No police officer had put his initials in the margin beside the item. Martineau wrote “Attention H.M.D.-Insp.” and said: “I’ll have a word with the lady.”
He looked at his watch. It was too early for Lucky to have gone to work, and he thought he might find her at home. Devery was out on an inquiry. All the men were busy. He decided to go alone.
He stopped the police car at Lucky’s door. When he knocked, she appeared at a bedroom window. She was wearing a bright silk dressing gown, and she had a comb in her hand.
She opened the window. “Hello,” she said. “Wait a minute, I’ll come down.”
She was still wearing the dressing gown when she admitted him. “You’ve come too late,” she said as he followed her into the house. “Ten minutes sooner, and you’d have caught me in the bath. Woohoo! What a thrill!”
He was admiring the rear view of her, and the way she walked. “A thrill? For whom?” he asked, for the sake of saying something.
“For me, sonny boy. And for you, if you’re human. I’m worth seeing, let me tell you.”
“Now you’re making me sorry I was late.”
They were in the living room. She turned and faced him. “No!” she said, wide-eyed in mock wonderment. “I don’t believe it! You are human!”
She was vitally attractive: full of life. The dressing gown, which was rather long and full, suggested intimacy and vulnerable femininity. Martineau was stirred by a quite strong feeling of concupiscence. It was years since he had lusted after a woman other than Julia; and a long time since he had wanted Julia.
Well, there was nothing to be done about it. “I came to ask you a few questions,” he said.
“Oh-h-h-h!” she exclaimed in disgust, and flopped into an armchair. He sat down facing her, and gave her a cigarette. The thought of her was still worrying him a little.
“I came in a police car,” he said. “We can’t use those for errands of private amusement.”
Her eyes twinkled mischievously. “Why not?” she queried. “That makes it official. If you come sneaking around with your hat over your eyes the neighbors’ll know you’re up to no good.”
He grinned at her. Lucky was a good woman-so far as he knew-but her sporty brand of humor would get her into trouble some day. “Give over,” he said. “You’d be frightened to death if I made a pass at you.”
“Try it and see,” she challenged, but she was still sprawling quite unguarded in the chair, smoking her cigarette.
He was tempted, but he laughed, thinking of her sudden alarm if he took her at her word.
“Business first,” he said. “I thought Don Starling and all his friends were on your list of things which mustn’t be mentioned at mealtimes.”
She sat up. “Don Starling! What about him?”
“Have you seen him during the last few days?”
“No,” she said.
He thought he had detected a slight hesitation before the answer. “Are you sure?” he persisted.
“I haven’t set eyes on him,” she replied deliberately.
He frowned, watching her keenly. “Can you think of any reason why he would want to see you?” he asked.
She appeared to meditate. “No,” she said. “I can’t. I’m not the sort of person he’d come to for money, or-or for anything else. We were barely on nodding terms when he was sent to prison. I don’t have anything to do with such as him.”
“He might come to you for shelter.”
“I shouldn’t think so. Well, he hasn’t asked for shelter, anyway. I haven’t seen him.”
Martineau was not satisfied. There was something missing. If she had had no contact of any sort with Starling, why hadn’t she demanded, indignantly, the reason why she of all people should be questioned about him?
“You did know him quite well at one time, didn’t you?” he probed.
“Yes. But that was years ago, before I met Chris, Chris Lusk. I thought he was a bit wild, but when I found out what he really was I dropped him like a hot cinder.”
“Still, he might come to you for shelter. He was seen hanging around here. He tried your door.”
“He-he tried my door?” She was obviously terrified. She put a hand to her face, as if to protect it. “When? When was that?”
“Early on Saturday night.”
“Oh,” she sighed, curiously relieved. Then she was assailed by a new fear. “Do you think he might come here again?” And before he could answer she said: “Oh no, he won’t come again.”
“What makes you think he won’t?”
“Well, I–I don’t think he’d dare.”
“You don’t? He’s pretty daring, you know. Do you keep your doors locked all the time? When you’re at home, I mean.”
“No, of course I don’t,” she said, and then she was on her feet, staring at Martineau. Her face was chalk-white. “He might be in here now,” was her panic-stricken whisper. “He might be listening to us. He might have crept in while I was upstairs.”
“Now, now, take it easy,” said Martineau. “Of course he isn’t here.” But he could not prevent himself from taking a speculative look at the pantry door.
Lucky came to him, as if for protection. She seized his arm. “I’m safe while you’re here,” she said. She shuddered at an intolerable thought. “Don’t go till you make sure he isn’t here. Lock the doors and search everywhere.” She stooped quickly to the hearth. “Here, take the poker.”
He looked at her curiously. “Has Starling been threatening you?” he wanted to know.
“Yes-no. Go on, make sure he isn’t here.”
Her terror was very real. He locked the doors and searched the house. Lucky, tensely holding the poker, was at his elbow wherever he went.
The house was small, and it was tidy. It did not take long to make sure that no man was hiding there.
“Now then,” said Martineau. “Put that poker down, and tell me about Starling.”
“I daren’t tell you,” she said.
“Because he threatened you?”
“He said he’d carve me up.”
“Well, never mind. I’ll see that he doesn’t. Why did he threaten you?”
“If I told you, it wouldn’t help you one little bit.”
“Let me be the judge of that.”
“I daren’t,” she said, and ran to him. Her distress was undoubtedly genuine. “You don’t know what it is,” she said, with her head against his shoulder, “to have no man of your own to protect you from people like Don Starling. You have to pretend to be bold and tough, just to keep your end up.” And then, though she was weeping, she said with a kind of anger: “I never had a man who was any bloody good.”
He raised her chin and smiled down at her. “Now, Lucky,” he chided gently. “Don’t be such a softy. There’s nothing to be afraid of. I won’t let Starling get near you. Why don’t you trust me, and tell me all about it?”
She told him about Saturday night’s phone call from Starling.
“You were right,” he said, when the little tale was ended. “It doesn’t help much. But thanks all the same. Nobody will ever know you’ve told me.”
“What will you do now?” she asked.
“I’ll put some men out,” he said. “Starling has no reason to hurt you, but they’ll serve the double purpose of protecting you and picking up Starling if he shows his face around this district. You haven’t a thing to worry about.”
She was still close to him, and he was holding her gently, with one arm around her. Suddenly she hugged him hungrily, pressing close to him. That was too much for him. He put both arms around her, and became aware of her nearly-naked torso beneath the dressing gown. She smelled sweet and clean.
She was on her toes. “Ooh, you!” she said, and put her aims around his neck. She pulled his head down and kissed him fiercely. “You!” she said again. He kissed her, quite literally sweeping her from her feet; and then over his shoulder she saw the time by the clock on the fireplace.
She broke away from him. “That’ll do, for a start,” she said. Her self-possession quickly restored his, but he may have looked disappointed. Smiling, she reached up and touched his face. “Call it a promise, darling,” she said. “Just now there isn’t time. I’ve got to go to work.”