“How did my handbag get here, Ralph?” Aline scarcely recognized her own fear-distorted voice. “In your car… slipped down behind the cushion.”
“May have been there for days,” he said genially, rolling forward on the empty street. “Let’s see. I drove you home from the office last Wednesday.”
“This is the bag I had at Bart’s party tonight,” she told him in a flat voice.
“Oh?” He hesitated, glancing aside at her tight face and wetting his lips with the tip of his tongue. “Then you were blacked out, weren’t you? I wondered. It’s so hard to tell with you. Don’t you remember anything at all about my taking you home?”
“But you told Doris you left alone. That I was still there when you left.”
“Pride, my dear. I didn’t want to confess to her that you kicked me out after we got to your place. She’d have felt she was second choice. Which she was, of course. You must have left your bag when you got out, and I didn’t notice it.”
“Ralph! You’ve got to tell me. What did happen. Did you drive me home?”
“Right to your doorstep,” he assured her cheerfully. “You were sweet enough in the car, but you turned nasty as hell when I suggested coming up. I didn’t know just how tight you were,” he went on thoughtfully. “That other time you blacked out you were glad enough to have my company. So, I thought you knew what you were doing and wanted to be alone as you said. I don’t like street scenes, damn it. And I knew Doris would be receptive.”
“And you left me standing outside?” Aline asked in a shaky voice.
“You were going up the steps to the door when I drove away.”
“Without my handbag?” She shuddered. “And without my keys? I couldn’t have got in the front door. What did I do? My God, Ralph, what do you suppose I did?”
Ralph had been driving east on 26th. Now, he turned north and pulled to the curb in front of the canopied entrance to a six-story apartment building. “You went back to the party, maybe… or called someone up,” he suggested. “Where were you when you came to this time?”
“I’m not going to tell you,” she said defiantly.
“No reason why you should,” he agreed. He cut his motor and leaned past her to open the door on her side. “Be sure you’ve got your key this time. I’ll sit right here until you go inside.”
“Please, Ralph.” Aline put a trembling hand on his arm. “Come up with me. I’m frightened. I’ve got to talk. Try to figure out what happened. Don’t you see that without my bag I didn’t have taxi fare? Not even a dime to telephone with. I was locked out here on the street, and then what?”
“You poor kid.” Ralph lifted her hand from his arm and kissed it. “Of course I’ll come up with you. Might as well make a night of it now.” He slid along the cushion and got out on her side of the car, went up the short flight of stone steps with her, and through swinging doors to an entry-way lined with mail boxes.
Aline took a leather key-holder from her purse. Beside the lock on the inner door there was a bell with a brass plate beneath it that read SUPERINTENDENT.
Ralph gestured to it and said, “Perhaps you rang the super and he let you in last night. That would be the normal thing. It wasn’t terribly late”
“How late?” She put a key in the lock and turned it, opened the door onto a small, attractive lobby with two self-service elevators at the rear.
“About midnight,” Ralph told her on the way to the elevators. One was waiting and he opened the door and followed her in. Aline pressed the button for the fourth floor and it began to rise easily. She stood silent, waiting for him to go on.
“I stopped at a bar for a couple of drinks after leaving you,” Ralph continued, “to give Doris time to break away from the party and get home. I got to her place about twelve-thirty. So it couldn’t have been past midnight when I left you.”
The elevator stopped and they went down a short length of carpeted hallway to a door which she unlocked. She went in ahead of him to turn on a light in the living room, took a quick look about and shook her head despairingly.
“I don’t believe I was back here after the party at all. It’s exactly the way I remember leaving it.” She went toward the small dressing alcove off the bathroom, saying, “I know I look like the wrath of God. Make yourself a drink while I fix my face a little and comb my hair.” She went in and closed the door.
Ralph went to the low, glass-topped bar in front of the studio couch, opened it and took out a flagon of rye and a large shot glass. He filled it and settled back on the couch, his face bland and uncommunicative as he waited for Aline to return.
It took her ten minutes. Her features were still tight and ravaged, but rouge and powder and a hairbrush had done much to improve her appearance. She sat down beside him, shook her head and shuddered when he lifted his glass and gestured toward its mate with the dregs of a drink she had left before leaving for Bart’s party.
“Not for me,” she said flatly. “Never again. I swear it. What do you think could have happened after you left me here without a key?”
“I still think the normal thing would have been for you to ring the superintendent.” He glanced at the speaking tube near the door. “Why not call him and find out, if it’ll set your mind at rest?”
“And wake him up at this time to ask him that?” she protested. “He’d think I’d lost my mind. Besides, if I did come up, I didn’t stay.”
“I gather,” said Ralph drily, “that you didn’t stay. However, it would be a starting point if you’re determined to backtrack. Up here, you could have telephoned anyone you liked without dimes. Go ahead and buzz him on the speaking tube. What are janitors for?”
“I’d be ashamed to ask him. If he didn’t think I was crazy, then he’d know I was too drunk to know what I did.”
“All right, then,” said Ralph amiably, “I’ll buzz him, and talk to him on the speaking tube.” He hesitated a moment, then added reflectively. “Better still, to save you embarrassment, I’ll telephone him, and let him think it’s an outside call. I’ll say I’m a friend who knows you came home about midnight without a key and am worried. I’ll ask if he let you in, and that won’t give anything away. Know his number?”
“No. But it’s listed under ‘Superintendent’ in the black book there on the telephone stand.” She started to get up, but Ralph caught her arm.
“You just sit here nice and comfy. I’ll find it.” He went to the telephone and flipped the pages of her private listing, dialed the number and waited.
The phone rang a long time before a sleepy voice demanded: “Yeh? Who you calling?”
“Are you the superintendent at the Maidstone?”
“Yeh. What you want?”
“I’m a friend of Miss Aline Ferris in Apartment 4-F. We’ve just discovered that she left her handbag with her keys here when she went home about midnight, and we’re a little worried. Her phone doesn’t answer. Did she ring you about midnight to let her in?”
“No. Haven’t see Miss Ferris for days.” He slammed the receiver down hard.
Ralph replaced his receiver and turned to Aline. “That’s not the answer. Let’s see, now.” He crossed over and sat down beside her and stretched his long legs out comfortably. “There you were about midnight on your own doorstep and operating under your own power, but actually passed out mentally. You had no key and no money to telephone. I had driven away thinking you were safely inside. What happened then?”
“Oh, I don’t know… I don’t know,” Aline cried out. “But I’ve just got to find out.”
“U-m-m. It would be lots easier to figure out if I knew where you were when you finally came to. Didn’t you ask anyone how you got there?”
“There wasn’t anyone to ask,” she told him. “I was alone. It doesn’t matter exactly where. In a hotel room, if that helps any. But how did I get there?” Her voice was shrill, close to hysteria.
“Take it easy,” Ralph said calmly. “There are dozens of possible explanations. Let’s reason it out together. From the way you acted last time, I know you’re outwardly rational when you’re passed out, but… less inhibited than when you’re sober, let us say. The real you takes charge of your body. You remain perfectly logical and self-possessed. Now: What would you have done under those same circumstances if you had been sober?”