‘Never heard of him,’ Mrs. Cool said. ‘But he seems to know me. Sure I do anything — divorces, politics — anything. My idea of ethics in this business is cash and carry.’
Alma Hunter said, ‘You did some work for a friend of his once.’
Bertha Cool said, ‘Well, don’t get me wrong, dearie. I’m not going to serve your summons. I don’t go wandering around the highways and byways with papers in my hand. I hire people to do my leg work. Donald Lam is one of my legs.’
The phone rang. She frowned and said, ‘I wish somebody’d invent a muzzle for the telephone so the damn thing wouldn’t always ring in the middle of a sentence. Hello — hello, what is it? Yes, what do you want, Elsie?... All right, I’ll put her on.’
She pushed the telephone over to the corner of the desk, and said, ‘It’s a call for you, Alma. A woman’s on the line. Says it’s an emergency.’
Alma Hunter walked swiftly around the desk, picked up the telephone, put the receiver to her ear, gulped once, and said, ‘Hello.’
The receiver rattled into noise. I saw Alma Hunter’s face twist in a spasm of expression. She said, ‘For God’s sake,’ and listened some more, then asked, ‘Where are you now?... Yes... And you’re going home from there... Well, I’ll meet you there. I’ll come right away, just as quick as r can... Yes, she’s assigning a detective to work on the case — no — no, not herself... No, she doesn’t go out by herself. She’s — she’s hardly—’
Bertha Cool said, ‘Don’t be bashful. Tell her I’m fat.’
‘She’s — well, she’s fat,’ Alma Hunter said. ‘No, not that. Fat. F-a-t... Yes, that’s right... No, he’s a young man. All right, I’ll bring him with me. How soon? All right — hold the phone a minute.’
She looked up from the telephone and asked me, ‘Can you go with me right away? That is, can Mrs. Cool let you start right now?’
It was Bertha Cool who answered. ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘you can do anything you want to with him, dearie. Put him on a collar and lead him around with a leash, for all I care. You’ve rented him. He’s yours.’
‘Yes, I’ll bring him,’ Alma Hunter said into the telephone, and hung up. She looked at Mrs. Cool. Her voice had just the suspicion of a quaver.
‘That was Sandra,’ she announced. ‘She met her brother at the train, and someone ran into her automobile. Her brother was thrown through the windshield. She’s at the emergency hospital. She says her brother knows all about the girl Morgan has been going with, but for some reason he doesn’t want to tell. She says we’ll have to put pressure on him.’
Bertha Cool said, ‘Go ahead. Donald will know how to bring pressure to bear. He’ll figure it out. Handle it any way you want. Only remember, if we find him tomorrow, it costs you a hundred and fifty bucks just the same.’
‘I understand,’ Miss Hunter said, ‘and I’ll pay you now, if you please.’
‘I please,’ Bertha Cool said calmly.
Alma Hunter opened her purse, took out bills, and started counting them. While she was doing that, I glanced through the allegations of the divorce complaint. After all, those things are largely a matter of form, the allegation of the residence, of the marriage, the statistical statement necessary for the state bureau, the setting up of the cause of action, and the allegations on which alimony is predicted.
I skimmed through the unessential parts to concentrate on the paragraph dealing with the cause for divorce. It was cruelty. Her husband had hit and slapped her, had on one occasion pushed her out of an automobile when she was a little slow in getting to the sidewalk, had called her ‘bitch’ and ‘whore’ in the presence of witnesses, all of which had caused her great and grievous mental suffering and physical anguish.
I looked up, to find Bertha Cool staring at me with gray eyes in which the pupils had contracted until they were black pinpoints. The currency lay uncounted on the blotter in front of her.
‘Aren’t you going to count it?’ Alma Hunter asked.
‘No,’ Mrs. Cool said. She scooped the money into a drawer, picked up the telephone, and said to Elsie Brand, ‘When Alma Hunter goes out, give her a receipt made to Sandra Birks for one hundred and fifty dollars.’
She hung up the telephone and said to Alma Hunter, ‘That’s all.’
Alma Hunter got up and looked at me. I left the office with her. Elsie Brand had a receipt ready. She tore it from the receipt book, handed it to Alma Hunter, and turned back to her typewriter.
Alma Hunter looked across at me as we gained the corridor and started down toward the elevator. ‘I want to talk with you,’ she said.
I nodded.
‘And please understand me. I know how you’re feeling. After what Mrs Cool said about having rented you, you feel like a gigolo or a poodle dog or something.’
‘Thanks,’ I said.
‘Sandra told me the doctor would be patching her brother up for almost an hour, and not to come until he was finished.’
‘And you decided to kill that hour talking to me?’ I asked.
‘Yes.’
The light over the elevator shaft glowed red. ‘Is it too early for lunch?’ she asked.
I thought of my twenty-five-cent breakfast and followed her into the elevator.
‘No,’ I said.
Chapter 3
We sat in a little, quiet restaurant down on a side street, a little place run by a big German woman. It was a new one on me. Alma Hunter said Sandra had been eating there for five or six months. The food was wonderful.
‘Tell me — how long have you been working there?’ Alma asked.
‘You mean at the detective agency?’
‘Yes, of course.’
I said, ‘About three hours.’
‘I thought so. And you’ve been out of work for a while?’
‘Yes.’
‘How in the world did a man of your size decide to become — er — that is — what experience have you had — or perhaps I shouldn’t ask that.’
‘You shouldn’t,’ I said.
She was silent for a moment, then said, ‘I’m going to give you some money for the lunch check. We’ll do that on all meals we eat together. I don’t want to put you in the position of standing by while I pay the checks. As a man, you’ll naturally resent—’
‘Don’t worry about me,’ I grinned. ‘All the pride I ever had has been kicked out of me. You’ve seen that for yourself.’
‘You mustn’t be like that,’ she protested. Her eyes showed hurt.
‘Ever walked the streets,’ I asked, ‘hungry — not able to talk to anyone, because the people you know would cut you and the people you didn’t know would think you wanted a handout? Have you ever been counted out without having had any sort of a trial?’
‘No,’ she said, ‘I don’t think I have.’
‘Try it some time,’ I said. ‘It does a lot for your pride.’
‘You mustn’t let it get you down.’
‘Oh no, it hasn’t,’ I assured her politely.
‘Now you’re being sarcastic,’ she said. ‘I don’t think, Mr.I’m going to call you Donald. You call me Alma. When people are mixed up in a game such as we’re mixed up in, it seems foolish to stand on a lot of formality.’
‘Tell me about the game we’re mixed up in,’ I invited.
There was a queer expression in her eyes, a pleading perhaps, perhaps a loneliness, and, I thought, just a glint of fear.
‘Tell me, Donald, and tell me the truth. You haven’t had any previous experience as a detective, have you?’
I squeezed the last drops of coffee out of the coffee pot, and said, ‘Lovely weather we’re having, isn’t it?’
‘That’s what I thought.’
‘What is?’
She smiled. ‘That we’re having lovely weather.’