“But I didn’t,” she said tearfully. “As soon as the police learn that I telephoned Mr. Torn, they’ll know I met him and went to the hotel with him.”
“They’ll suspect it strongly,” he agreed. “Not only that, Aline, they’ll also suspect strongly that I may have followed you there, gained access to the room somehow, and killed Torn in a jealous rage. With no knowledge or proof as to where I was at the time, I’m wide open to any sort of accusation.”
“What are we going to do?” Aline sank back on her haunches and looked up into his face appealingly. “It’s all my fault, you see. Whether you did or didn’t do anything. My untamed sexiness when I get tight. First, leading you on and making an assignation with you, and then faithlessly switching my desire to Vincent Torn whom I didn’t even know from Adam. I deserve anything that happens to me.”
“We’re going to see that nothing happens,” he said sternly. Then he sighed and added wistfully, “If we could only prove we spent the four hours from midnight onward here together. That would solve everything… for both of us.”
“No one can prove we didn’t,” she said hopefully.
He shook his head. “Except Ralph Barnes with his knowledge of your telephone call. If you’d only foreseen this, and gone to the bar yourself to inquire. Then we’d be quite safe. The bartender doesn’t know who you phoned, and there’d be no reason for him to come forward with information about the matter.”
“It’s too late to think about that now. Ralph does know. He even knows the number I called. As soon as he learns that Mr. Torn is dead, he’ll check the number and then he’ll know.”
“That’s true.” Dirk was frowning thoughtfully. He cleared his throat and said, “Please tell me honestly, Aline. Ralph goes for you in a big way, doesn’t he?”
Aline hesitated before replying. She wanted desperately to be honest with Dirk. It was easy, somehow. She said thoughtfully, “Just about as big as Ralph is capable of going for any woman. You know how he is.” She was thinking about Doris as she spoke. How Ralph had turned to her so easily last night… and then turned away from her back to Aline just as easily this morning. “He’s completely amoral. Like any tomcat prowling the back alleys.”
“I know,” said Dirk rapidly, “but he does like you, and I gather his ego was severely wounded when you sent him away last night. You didn’t tell him anything about Torn?” he asked urgently. “He has no idea at all that the midnight telephone call you made may involve you in a murder case as a suspect?”
“No!” Aline shuddered. “I told him nothing. I didn’t dare. You’re the only person who knows, Dirk.”
“If he did know how important that telephone call is to you,” pointed out Dirk, “isn’t it quite possible he would be willing to remain quiet about it? As a favor to you?”
“I don’t know,” said Aline doubtfully. “Just at this moment, Ralph isn’t in a mood to do me any favors.”
“But he could be put into such a mood without too much trouble,” said Dirk. He rose and strode across the living room, his face grave and deeply troubled. “You and I are both caught in the same sort of trap,” he told her despondently. “Without knowing what we did last night, neither of us can possibly prove we had no hand in Vincent Torn’s death. Once the police get onto the affair and dig into what happened at Bart’s party, we’ll be equally suspect. Don’t you see how perfect it would be for us both if we could alibi each other by swearing we were here in your place together from midnight until four o’clock?”
“It’s the perfect solution,” she agreed. “And no one could ever prove otherwise if I hadn’t made the telephone call to Mr. Torn.”
“About which no one can give evidence except Ralph Barnes.” Dirk strode to her side and took her arm firmly in his grasp. “If I know anything at all about Ralph, you should have no real difficulty persuading him to remain quiet about that. He needn’t actually lie when the police question him. He need only tell the truth about bringing you home from Bart’s and dropping you here. If he doesn’t mention the telephone call, the police will never know you didn’t come directly upstairs to spend the next few hours with me.”
“Wait a minute,” she faltered. “When you speak of persuading Ralph… you know what he will expect in payment?”
Dirk nodded gravely, his eyes holding hers. “I can easily guess. But, remember your danger, Aline. And the position I’m in myself.” His voice was deep-throated and strong. “Don’t do anything you’ll regret later, but think it over very carefully before you decide either way.”
Aline nodded and drew in a deep breath. “Don’t forget about Doris,” she warned him. “She knows I was out on the street at four o’clock without my purse and with no key to my apartment.”
“I think Doris will play along. She isn’t the sort who’d want to make trouble for you. She doesn’t know about the phone call, of course, and has no reason to suspect you were with Torn. You might even tell her that you and I were together, but ask her not to tell Ralph.
“And, of course, Ralph mustn’t know we’re going to tell the police we were together. He knows we weren’t. And he mustn’t know he’s providing me with an alibi at the same time, or he’d probably balk. But if he thinks he’s simply doing you a favor by keeping you out of a nasty mess, I hardly think he’ll refuse.”
“I don’t think he will, either,” agreed Aline breathlessly. “It is the right thing, isn’t it? Since I do know I’m completely innocent but have no way of proving it.”
“Innocent persons have been convicted before this,” Dirk reminded her gravely. “I think I’d better run along now and try to pacify Ina. You’d better have a talk with Ralph right away.”
“I will,” Aline promised, moving with him to the door. “You’ll never understand how much good it’s done me just to be able to talk with you, Dirk.”
“I think I do know.” He smiled wearily. “Remember, I’m in the same boat. Call me about Ralph?”
Aline told him she would. As he hesitated in the doorway, she rose impulsively on her toes and touched her lips lightly to his.
Then he was gone and she was alone in the apartment. She felt almost light-hearted now. It was going to be all right. If she could persuade Ralph not to tell the police about her midnight phone call, no one could possibly prove she hadn’t been with Dirk during the time Vincent Torn was being murdered.
10
That was the end of Elsie Murray’s manuscript. I laid it aside with an empty feeling of regret. If she had only gone on a little further!
But here was enough, it seemed to me, to provide a definite motive for her own murder. If the events in her story had happened (as she assured me they had) substantially as related by her, it seemed to me that at least one of her characters had a perfect reason for wanting the manuscript suppressed.
Poor silly Elsie! From the way she wrote about Dirk, it appeared that she was wholly unaware how cleverly he had used her in setting up an alibi for himself while pretending to provide her with one.
It is one of the classic gimmicks in detective fiction, of course, and I recognized it instantly.
But who was the man she called Dirk in her script? That was the burning question. She had told me that she had carefully changed all names and physical descriptions of the people involved, but it shouldn’t be too difficult, I thought, to identify him once one learned more about the girl herself and her associates.
The important thing was to get a duplicate copy made before the police came and impounded the one I had.
I looked at the slip of paper on which Ed Radin had written the address of the duplicating firm. It was a low number on West 45th Street. My watch said it was five o’clock. I slid Elsie’s manuscript back into its manila envelope, put on my hat and a light topcoat. With the envelope inside my coat and held through the cloth with my right hand in my coat pocket, no one would notice that I was carrying anything as I left the hotel.