His laugh was cynical. ‘So Morgan knows him, does he? And he’s a friend of the family? You know what that means? Just because he comes to the house and shakes hands with your husband and smokes his cigars, makes him a friend of the family, does it? How about the times you see him when Morgan ain’t around?’
‘Bleatie,’ she said, ‘you cut that out or I’ll start doing a little talking. You’re no tin angel yourself. You make me sick with this holier-than-thou attitude. If you want to sling mud, I’ll scoop up a handful. That little—’
He held up his hand and said, ‘Keep your shirt on, baby, keep your shirt on. I’m just leading up to something.’
‘Well, lead up to it right now.’
‘I’ll give you a chance at Morgan,’ he said. ‘You can serve those papers on him and go ahead and rush your divorce case through. But I’m going to see that Morgan has a square deal.’
‘What do you want?’
‘That whole paragraph in there about property,’ he said. ‘You were earning your living when Morgan met you. You’ve feathered your nest since then. God knows how much you’ve picked up, but it’s plenty — you and that wheedling, cooing way of yours. You’ve managed to get a pretty good apartment here. I suppose the rent is paid for a while on a lease. You’ve got a whole closet full of glad rags. You’ve salted a nice little wad of dough. With those clothes on your back, your figure, and your knowledge of what it takes to make men putty in your hands, you’ll take a trip to Europe and wind up with a couple of dukes.’
‘You showed him those papers?’ she asked me, the words coming out in a rush. ‘You let him read my divorce complaint?’
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘You sent me in to talk to him.’
She said irritably, ‘Of all the fool things—’ She broke off turned to her brother. ‘I’m finished with men,’ she said.
He laughed sarcastically.
Sandra Birks had lightning in her eyes, but she kept her voice calm. ‘What do you want, Bleatie? This isn’t getting us anywhere.’
‘I want you to go to your lawyer and get a new divorce complaint. I want one that doesn’t have anything in it about property. You get a divorce. You go your way; Morgan goes his. That’s fair.’
‘What do you mean, property?’
‘That stuff about the safety deposit boxes and all that stuff. You—’
She whirled on me. ‘You’re responsible for this. Why did you think you had to show him the papers?’
‘I made him,’ Bleatie said. ‘Keep your shirt on, Babe. I wasn’t going to be a sucker in this thing. One of these days Morgan is going to be out in the clear. Morgan can look me up then. Morgan isn’t a damn fool. The minute I drag the girl into it, he’s going to know where the tip-off came from. Remember that — Morgan Birks isn’t anybody’s damn fool!’
‘I haven’t any time to go to my lawyers and get another complaint,’ she said. ‘This one has already been filed and a summons issued.’
‘Well, you can change it, can’t you?’
‘I don’t think so.’
‘Sit down there at that desk,’ he said, ‘and write a letter. Put in that letter that you’re asking for property in your divorce complaint, but you really don’t want any, that when the case comes up for trial, you’ll have your lawyer tell the judge you don’t want alimony, that you’ll keep the apartment for as long as the rent is paid, that you’ll keep your clothes and whatever money you have in your jeans, and Morgan can have all the rest.’
‘What are you going to do with that letter?’ she asked.
‘See that you give Morgan a square deal.’
Her mouth was a firm, straight line. Her eyes were hot with anger. The man on the bed met her gaze with the calm assurance of one who is so accustomed to having people yield that he doesn’t even take the possibility of their disobedience into consideration. After a second or two, she walked over to the desk, jerked open the drawer as though she were going to pull it out by the roots, yanked out a sheet of paper, and wrote.
Bleatie said to me, ‘God knows how a cigarette will taste, but I’m going to try one anyway. You got one?’
I nodded.
‘Put it in my mouth,’ he said, ‘and light it for me, will you? The way this bandage sticks out on my nose, I’d probably burn the side of my face off trying to find the end of the cigarette.’
I gave him the cigarette and lit it. He inhaled a couple of deep drags and said, ‘God, it tastes funny!’
After that, he smoked in silence. Over at the desk, Sandra Birks scratched the pen across the paper. When an inch of the cigarette had burned down, she finished writing, blotted the paper, read it over, and handed it across to her brother. ‘All right,’ she said. ‘Now I hope you’re satisfied. You’d strip your own sister naked just to give a lousy friend a break.’
He read it through twice, then said, ‘I think that’s all right.’ He folded the paper, fumbled around until he found his, pants pocket, and pushed it down inside. He looked up at me and said, ‘Okay, buddy. Do your stuff. The girl is Sally Durke. She lives in the Milestone Apartments. Go up there and get hard with her. Get plenty hard. You’ve got to spread it on thick. Throw a good scare into her. Tell her she’s hiding Morgan, that you’re going to see she’s arrested for harboring a fugitive from justice or whatever kind of a stall you want to make. Tell her that Sandra is suing for divorce, is going to drag her into it and is out to collect all Morgan’s property. Don’t say a word to her about this letter Sandra has given me. Pretend you’re a cop — no, you’d never make that stick — but get hard.’
‘Then what?’ I asked.
‘Then shadow her. She’ll lead you to Morgan.’
‘Morgan won’t come there?’
‘Hell, no. Morgan’s too smart for that. Morgan keeps in touch with her, but he isn’t fool enough to walk into a trap like that, not when he knows the cops are looking for him.’
I turned to Sandra Birks. ‘Got some good pictures of your husband?’ I asked.
‘Yes,’ she said.
Bleatie said, ‘You’ll find his pictures in the newspapers.’
‘I know;’ I agreed, ‘but they’re no good. I’ve already checked up on them.’
‘I have a couple of snapshots and a good photographic portrait,’ Sandra said.
‘I’d prefer the snapshots.’
‘Will you come this way, please?’
I nodded to Bleatie.
‘Good luck, Lam,’ he said, and stretched out on the bed. His lips looked as though he wanted to grin and couldn’t. ‘When you get done, Sandra, come back and give me that sedative. I think in about half an hour this nose is going to be hurting like hell — it’s a wonder you couldn’t watch where you’re driving.’
‘Watch where I’m driving,’ she said. ‘My God, that’s just like you. At the time, you claimed the other car deliberately ran into us. If you could only stay put once—’
‘Save it,’ he said. ‘Lam isn’t interested in the brotherly and sisterly affection of the Thorns family.’
Her eyes glared cold daggers at him. ‘It took you a hell of a while to find that out,’ she said, and flounced out of the room. I followed along behind, closing the door after me.
Alma Hunter looked up with apprehensive eyes. ‘Did you get it?’ she asked breathlessly.
Sandra Birks nodded grimly. ‘You bet I got it,’ she said in a low voice, ‘and what I’m going to do to that baby isn’t even going to be funny!’
She kept on walking right through the living room and across, to a bedroom. ‘Come in here, Mr. Lam,’ she invited.
There were twin beds, pictures on the walls. The furniture was expensive, with plate-glass mirrors at various angles of the room. She said, ‘I have a photograph album here in my dresser drawer. Sit down over there — maybe you’d better sit on the bed because I’ll want to sit beside you. We’ll go over the photographs together, and you can pick out the ones you want.’