«That’s too much. What is the nature of the expenses?»
«Gas and oil, maybe a bribe or two, meals and whisky. Mostly whisky.»
«Don’t you cat when you’re not working?»
«Yeah — but not so well.»
He grinned. His grin like his eyes had a stony cast to it. «I think maybe we’ll get along,» he said.
He opened a drawer and brought out a Scotch bottle. We had a drink. He put the bottle on the floor, wiped his lips, lit a monogrammed cigarette and inhaled comfortably. «Better make it fifteen a day,» he said. «In times like these. And go easy on the liquor.»
«I was just kidding you,» I said. «A man you can’t kid is a man you can’t trust.»
He grinned again. «It’s a deal. First off though, your promise that in no circumstances you have anything to do with any cop friends you may happen to have.»
«As long as you haven’t murdered anybody, it suits me.»
He laughed. «Not yet. But I’m a pretty tough guy still. I want you to trace my wife and find out where she is and what she’s doing, and without her knowing it.
«She disappeared eleven days ago — August twelfth — from a cabin we have at Little Fawn Lake. That’s a small lake owned by myself and two other men. It’s three miles from Puma Point. Of course you know where that is.»
«In the San Bernardino Mountains, about forty miles from San Bernardino.»
«Yes.» He flicked ash from his cigarette on the desk top and leaned over to blow it off. «Little Fawn Lake is only about three-eighths of a mile long. It has a small dam we built for real estate development — just at the wrong time. There arc four cabins up there. Mine, two belonging to my friends, neither of them occupied this summer, and a fourth on the near side of the lake as you come in. That one is occupied by a man named William Haines and his wife. He’s a disabled veteran with a pension. He lives there rent free and looks after the place. My wife has been spending the summer up there and was to leave on the twelfth to come in to town for some social activity over the weekend. She never came.»
I nodded. He opened a locked drawer and took out an envelope. He took a photo and a telegram from the envelope, and passed the telegram across the desk. It had been sent from El Paso, Texas, on August 15th at 9:18 AM. It was addressed to Howard Melton, 715 Avenant Building, Los Angeles. It read: Am crossing to get Mexican divorce. Will marry Lance. Good luck and goodbye. Julia.
I put the yellow form down on the desk. «Julia is my wife’s name,» Melton said.
«Who’s Lance?»
«Lancelot Goodwin. He used to be my confidential secretary up to a year ago. Then he came into some money and quit. I have known for a long time that Julia and he were a bit soft on each other, if I may put it that way.»
«It’s all right with me,» I said.
He pushed the photo across the desk. It was a snapshot On glazed paper showing a slim, small blonde and a tall, lean, dark, handsome guy, ’about thirty-five, a shade too handsome. The blonde could have been anything from eighteen to forty. She was that type. She had a figure and didn’t act stingy with it. She wore a swimsuit which didn’t strain the imagination and the man wore trunks. They sat against a striped beach umbrella on the sand. I put the snapshot down on top of the telegram.
«That’s all the exhibits,» Melton said, «but not all the facts. Another drink?» He poured it and we drank it. He put the bottle dowm on the floor again and his telephone rang. He talked a moment, then juggled the hood and told the operator to hold his calls for a while.
«So far there would be nothing much to it,» he said. «But I met Lance Goodwin on the street last Friday. He said he hadn’t seen Julia in months. I believed him, because Lance is a fellow without many inhibitions, and he doesn’t scare. He’d be apt to tell me the truth about a thing like that. And I think he’ll keep his mouth shut.»
«Were there other fellows you thought of?»
«No. If there are any, I don’t know them. My hunch is, Julia has been arrested and is in jail somewhere and has managed, by bribery or otherwise, to hide her identity.»
«In jail for what?»
He hesitated a moment and then said very quietly: «Julia is a kleptomaniac. Not bad, and not all the time. Mostly when she is drinking too much. She has spells of that, too. Most of her tricks have been here in Los Angeles in the big stores where we have accounts. She’s been caught a few times and been able to bluff out and have the stuff put on the bill. No scandal so far that I couldn’t take care of. But in a strange town —» He stopped and frowned hard. «I have my job with the Doreme people to worry about,» he said.
«She ever been printed?»
«How?»
«Had her fingerprints taken and filed?»
«Not that I know of.» He looked worried at that.
«This Goodwin know about the sideline she worked?»
«I couldn’t say. I hope not. He’s never mentioned it, of course.»
«I’d like his address.»
«He’s in the book. Has a bungalow over in the Chevy Chase district, near Glendale. Very secluded place. I’ve a hunch Lance is quite a chaser.»
It looked like a very nice setup, but I didn’t say so out loud. I could see a little honest money coming my way for a change. «You’ve been up to this Little Fawn Lake since your wife disappeared, of course.»
He looked surprised. «Well, no. I’ve had no reason to. Until I met Lance in front of the Athletic Club I supposed he and Julia were together somewhere — perhaps even married already. Mexican divorces are quick.»
«How about money? She have much with her?»
«I dont know. She has quite a lot of money of her own, inherited from her father. I guess she can get plenty of money.»
«I see. How was she dressed — or would you know?»
He shook his head. «I hadnt seen her in two weeks. She wore rather dark clothes as a rule. Haines might be able to tell you. I suppose he’ll have to know she disappeared. I think he can be trusted to keep his mouth shut.» Melton smiled wryly. «She had a small octagonal platinum wrist watch with a chain of large links. A birthday present. It had her name inside. She had a diamond and emerald ring and a platinum wedding ring engraved inside: Howard and Julia Melton. July 27th, 1926.»
«But you don’t suspect foul play, do you?»
«No.» His large cheekbones reddened a little. «I told you what I suspected.»
«If she’s in somebody’s jailhouse, what do I do? Just report back and wait?»
«Of course. If she’s not, keep her in sight until I can get there, wherever it is. I think I can handle the situation,»
«Uh-huh. You look big enough. You said she left Little Fawn Lake on August twelfth. But you haven’t been up there. You mean she did — or she was just supposed to — or you guess it from the date of the telegram?’
«Right. There’s one more thing I forgot. She did leave on the twelfth. She never drove at night, so she drove down the mountain in the afternoon and stopped at the Olympia Hotel until train time. I know that because they called me up a week later and said her car was in their garage and did I want to call for it. I said I’d be over and get it when I had time.»
«Okay, Mr. Mellon. I think I’ll run around and check over this Lancelot Goodwin a little first, He might happen not to have told you the truth.»
He handed me the Other Cities phone book and I looked it up. Lancelot Goodwin lived at 3416 Chester Lane. I didn’t know where that was, but I had a map in the car.
I said: «I’m going out there and snoop around. I’d better have a little money on account. Say a hundred bucks.»
«Fifty should do to start,» he said. He took out his gold-plated wallet and gave me two twenties and a ten. «I’ll get you to sign a receipt — just as a matter of form.»