“Let’s get Edward straight,” I said. “Is he your sister’s husband?”
“He was. Ethel divorced him last month. And she’s well rid of him, even if he did cheat her out of her fair share of the property. He claimed to be a pauper, practically, but I know better. He’s a very successful real estate operator – you must have heard of the Illman Tracts.”
“This is the same Illman?”
“Yes. Do you know him?”
“Not personally. I used to see his name in the columns. He’s quite a Casanova, isn’t he?”
“Edward is a dreadful man. Why Ethel ever married him…Of course she wanted security, to be able to send me to college, and everything. But I’d have gone to work, gladly, if I could have stopped the marriage. I could see what kind of a husband he’d make. He even had the nerve to make a – make advances to me at the wedding reception.” Her mouth pouted out in girlish indignation.
“And now you’re thinking he had something to do with your sister’s disappearance?”
“Either that, or she did away with – No, I’m sure it’s Edward. He sounded so smug on the long distance telephone yesterday, as if he’d just swallowed the canary. I tell you, that man is capable of anything. If something’s happened to Ethel, I know who’s responsible.”
“Probably nothing has. She could have gone off on a little trip by herself.”
“You don’t know Ethel. We’ve always kept in close touch, and she’s been so punctual with my allowance. She’d never dream of going away and leaving me stranded at school without any money. I held out as long as I could, expecting to hear from her. When I got down below twenty dollars, I decided to take the train home.”
“To Ethel’s house in West Hollywood?”
“Yes. It’s the only home I have since Daddy passed away. Ethel’s the only family I have. I couldn’t bear to lose Ethel.” Her eyes filmed with tears.
“Do you have taxi fare?”
She shook her head, shamefaced.
“I’ll drive you out. I don’t live far from there myself. My car’s stashed in a garage near Union Station.”
“You’re being good to me.” Her hand crept out across the tablecloth and pressed the back of mine. “Forgive me for saying those silly things, about Edward hiring you.”
I told her that would be easy.
We drove out Sunset and up into the hills. Afternoon was changing into evening. The late sunlight flashed like intermittent searchlights from the western windows of the hillside apartment buildings. Clare huddled anxiously in the far corner of the seat. She didn’t speak, except to direct me to her sister’s house.
It was a flat-roofed building set high on a sloping lot. The walls were redwood and glass, and the redwood had not yet weathered gray. I parked on the slanting blacktop drive and got out. Both stalls of the carport under the house were empty. The draperies were pulled over the picture windows that overlooked the valley.
I knocked on the front door. The noise resounded emptily through the building. I tried it. It was locked. So was the service door at the side.
I turned to the girl at my elbow. She was clutching the handle of her overnight bag with both hands, and looking pinched again. I thought that it was a cold homecoming for her.
“Nobody home,” I said.
“It’s what I was afraid of. What shall I do now?”
“You share this house with your sister?”
“When I’m home from school.”
“And it belongs to her?”
“Since the divorce it does.”
“Then you can give me permission to break in.”
“All right. But please don’t damage anything if you can help it. Ethel is very proud of her house.”
The side door had a spring-type lock. I took a rectangle of plastic out of my wallet, and slipped it into the crack between the door and the frame. The lock slid back easily.
“You’re quite a burglar,” she said in a dismal attempt at humor.
I stepped inside without answering her. The kitchen was bright and clean, but it had a slightly musty, disused odor. The bread in the breadbox was stale. The refrigerator needed defrosting. There was a piece of ham moldering on one shelf, and on another a half-empty bottle of milk which had gone sour.
“She’s been gone for some time,” I said. “At least a week. We should check her clothes.”
“Why?”
“She’d take some along if she left to go on a trip, under her own power.”
She led me through the living room, which was simply and expensively furnished in black iron and net, into the master bedroom. The huge square bed was neatly made, and covered with a pink quilted silk spread. Clare avoided looking at it, as though the conjunction of a man and a bed gave her a guilty feeling. While she went through the closet, I searched the vanity and the chest of drawers.
They were barer than they should have been. Cosmetics were conspicuous by their absence. I found one thing of interest in the top drawer of the vanity, hidden under a tangle of stockings: a bankbook issued by the Las Vegas branch of the Bank of Southern California. Ethel Illman had deposited $30,000 on March 14 of this year. On March 17 she had withdrawn $5,000. On March 20 she had withdrawn $6,000. On March 22 she had withdrawn $18,995. There was a balance in her account, after service charges, of $3.65.
Clare said from the closet in a muffled voice:
“A lot of her things are gone. Her mink stole, her good suits and shoes, a lot of her best summer clothes.”
“Then she’s probably on a vacation.” I tried to keep the doubt out of my voice. A woman wandering around with $30,000 in cash was taking a big chance. I decided not to worry Clare with that, and put the little bankbook in my pocket.
“Without telling me? Ethel wouldn’t do that.” She came out of the closet, pushing her fine light hair back from her forehead. “You don’t understand how close we are to each other, closer than sisters usually are. Ever since Father died–”
“Does she drive her own car?”
“Of course. It’s a last year’s Buick convertible, robin’s-egg blue.”
“If you’re badly worried, go to Missing Persons.”
“No. Ethel wouldn’t like that. She’s a very proud person, and shy. Anyway, I have a better idea.” She gave me that questioning-calculating look of hers.
“Involving me?”
“Please.” Her eyes in the darkening room were like great soft centerless pansies, purple or black. “You’re a detective, and evidently a good one. And you’re a man. You can stand up to Edward and make him answer questions. He just laughs at me. Of course I can’t pay you in advance…”
“Forget the money for now. What makes you so certain that Illman is in on this?”
“I just know he is. He threatened her in the lawyer’s office the day they made the settlement. She told me so herself. Edward said that he was going to get that money back if he had to take it out of her hide. He wasn’t fooling, either. He’s beaten her more than once.”
“How much was the settlement?”
“Thirty thousand dollars and the house and the car. She could have collected much more, hundreds of thousands, if she’d stayed in California and fought it through the courts. But she was too anxious to get free from him. So she let him cheat her, and got a Nevada divorce instead. And even then he wasn’t satisfied.”
She looked around the abandoned bedroom, fighting back tears. Her skin was so pale that it seemed to be phosphorescent in the gloom. With a little cry, she flung herself face down on the bed and gave herself over to grief. I said to her shaking back:
“You win. Where do I find him?”
He lived in a cottage hotel on the outskirts of Bel-Air. The gates of the walled pueblo were standing open, and I went in. A few couples were strolling on the gravel paths among the palm-shaded cottages, walking off the effects of the cocktail hour or working up an appetite for dinner. The women were blonde, and had money on their backs. The men were noticeably older than the women, except for one, who was noticeably younger. They paid no attention to me.