"I see. Good reasoning," he nodded.
"Not very," I said. "Or you wouldn't say so. It all rests on the assumption that it was Mrs. Luther who telephoned there to the office tonight. I'm sure now that it wasn't."
He laughed and made a pass at slapping me on the knee. I drew my leg back.
"This isn't getting you anywhere, Pat," he said, sobering. "I told you I'd straighten everything out for you when the proper time came. Now, why don't you just forget it all for the present and we'll have a good talk some day soon when you're not so upset?"
"I'd like to know now," I said. "What do you want with me? You and Doc and whoever's working with you?"
"I'm sorry, Pat. I-"
"Dammit," I said. "You're going to have to tell me sometime. You want me on your side of the fence, and I can't be there unless I know your plans. Now what is it?"
"You're a very smart young man, Pat. Far too shrewd for my liking."
"Thanks," I said.
"And I won't be ready for you to act for several weeks yet. Probably a month or so. If I explained things now, well-you see why I can't. Why take chances, particularly when I don't have to?"
"I see," I said. "You want to spring it on me suddenly. Without giving me a chance to think. I'll have to jump one of two ways and yours will look the best."
"Well, Pat?"
"You want me to kill Doc," I said. "Why?"
"Now, Pat"-he laughed nervously-"where do you get that idea?"
"All right," I said. "I'll kill him. I've had about all I can take. I'm going to do it tonight and then I'm skipping out."
"Pat!" He gripped my arm. "You mustn't. Not now. I mean-I-"
I shook off his arm, grinning at him. "Not now," I said. "But later. That's it, isn't it? You do want me to kill him. Let's have the rest of it."
"I've got nothing more to say, Pat. You'd better leave."
I nodded and got up. And then my hand went out in a stiff-arm, and he shot backwards off of the ottoman. I dived over the coffee table and on top of him, straddling his chest.
I grabbed up a whiskey glass and struck the rim against the coffee table. Part of it fell away, and I gripped it by the base, holding the long jagged splinters above his face.
His eyes rolled, and he stopped squirming.
"All right," I said. "I'm waiting."
"This"-he gasped-"this won't get you anywhere, Pat."
"Talk."
"Don't talk," said a voice behind me, and something hard and round and cold pressed against the back of my neck. "Betcha I'll shoot if you don't get up from there, honey. Betcha."
23
I dropped the glass and stood up, my hands raised. I turned around. She was grinning that cute crinkled grin, and her brown eyes were dancing with gay good humor.
"Whatsa matter, baby? Aren't ums glad to see mama?"
"God!" I said "God Almighty!"
"Poor, poor baby. So sweet and trusting and obliging with Madeline… and all for a little petting. He didn't even get to sleep with her."
"No," I said. "I didn't. I've got that to be thankful for at least."
"Tsk, tsk," she said, grinning again. "Sour grapes, don't you think so, Bill?"
"Very sour," said Hardesty.
He had risen from the floor and kicked the glass into the fireplace, and now he moved over to her side and put his arm around her.
She leaned against him, her crisp brown hair brushing against his neck. She took his hand into one of hers and raised it up and pressed it tightly against her breast.
"There," she said, comfortably. "Hold the gun, will you, Bill? It makes my li'l fingers tired."
Hardesty took the gun and dropped it into his pocket. "We won't need that," he said. "Pat's ready to listen to reason, aren't you, Pat?"
"Reason," I said. "Reason."
"I'm sorry, boy," he said, and he sounded like he meant it. "Some things you can only do the hard way and this is one of them. You've never had a chance. You've been licked from the start."
"So I see," I said, dully.
"Doc knows you've been seeing Madeline. You were supposed to see her. You were bound to see that something was wrong, to be disturbed about it. It was Madeline's job to keep you from taking any action. Let you take it out in talk, more or less."
"Never mind," I said. "I understand. I guess I've understood from the beginning. I just wouldn't let myself believe it was true."
Madeline's grin faded. "I didn't want to hurt you, Pat. I didn't want you to get hurt. I told you to see me before you did anything, and you promised you would. If you'd kept that promise, this wouldn't have happened."
"I don't think you'd better say any more," I said. "I'm afraid if you keep on talking to me I'll try to kill you, and nothing will stop me but being killed. You don't want that. Yet. It would spoil your plans."
Hardesty shook his head, sympathetically. "We are sorry, Pat, believe me. I hope there's no hard feelings?"
"Over her?" I laughed shortly. "All right, I'm going now."
"Like another drink first?"
"No," I said and I started for the door.
Madeline's voice stopped me.
"Wait, Pat! No, wait, this is business!… Bill, maybe we should tell him, now. That car, I'm worried about that. Doc shouldn't have bought it so soon."
"You mean the one for-for Pat's birthday?" Hardesty made a gesture of disgust. "Of course, he shouldn't have, but you know Doc. He's always got to be a jump ahead of everyone else, even if he jumps in the ditch."
"But this is different. He wouldn't go in for gestures at a time like this. I've got a feeling that-"
"Nonsense. This Arnholt deal breaks tomorrow night. It'll take him at least a month to wind it up, follow it through the legislature and collect. How could he-he-"
Their eyes met, and he jerked his head at me. She nodded slowly.
"I suppose you're right. We'll be in a terrible spot if you aren't."
"Of course, I'm right," said Hardesty. "Pat, I don't want to seem discourteous, but perhaps..
I heard a suppressed laugh as I went out the door… I drank a great deal of whiskey that night, and the more I drank the more sober I became. Around midnight, when the stuff was virtually running out my ears, I went into the bathroom and vomited for what seemed like
hours. When it was all out of me, I started drinking again and I kept on until I fell asleep.
In this fine house I went to bed drunk, with my clothes on, for the first time in my life.
24
A long hot and cold shower and a close shave did wonders toward pulling me together. Afterwards, I had one short drink and got the morning paper from beneath the door.
Eggleston's picture and a half-column story about him were on the front page. Since the dead man had not been robbed, it was believed that:.. the private detective, long a familiar figure in divorce court proceedings, may have unearthed secrets which someone- probably a client-felt it unsafe for him to know. "I'm almost certain that our tall red-haired stranger and the murderer are the same man," Det. Lt. Rube Hastings declared. "Probably he only intended to throw a scare into Eggleston. Judging by his actions, I'd say that was what he had in mind. He walked up to the office, fearing perhaps that the elevator operator might want to accompany an after-hours caller. But he didn't mind being seen by the operator, as he would have if he'd contemplated murder.