But there was something about the way this one behaved that intrigued me. I looked at my watch, decided it was time to get something to eat, lit another cigarette and didn’t move.
It took about five minutes. Then a green sedan whisked around the corner and bore down the block. It coasted to a stop in front of Dr. Almore’s house and its tall buggy whip aerial quivered. A big man with dusty blond hair got out and went up to Dr. Almore’s front door. He rang the bell and leaned down to strike a match on the step. His head came around and he stared across the street exactly at where I was sitting.
The door opened and he went into the house. An invisible hand gathered the curtains at Dr. Almore’s study window and blanked the room. I sat there and stared at the sun darkened lining of the curtains. More time trickled by.
The front door opened again and the big man loafed casually down the steps and through the gate. He snapped his cigarette end off into the distance and rumpled his hair. He shrugged once, pinched the end of his chin, and walked diagonally across the street. His steps in the quiet were leisurely and distinct. Dr. Almore’s curtains moved apart again behind him. Dr. Almore stood in his window and watched.
A large freckled hand appeared on the sill of the car door at my elbow. A large face, deeply-lined, hung above it.
The man had eyes of metallic blue. He looked at me solidly and spoke in a deep harsh voice.
“Waiting for somebody?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” I said. “Am I?”
“I’ll ask the questions.”
“Well, I’ll be damned,” I said. “So that’s the answer to the pantomime.”
“What pantomime?” He gave me a hard level unfriendly stare from his very blue eyes.
I pointed across the street with my cigarette. “Nervous Nellie and the telephone. Calling the cops, after first getting my name from the Auto Club, probably, then looking it up in the city directory. What goes on?”
“Let me see your driver’s license.”
I gave him back his stare. “You fellows ever flash a buzzer—or is acting tough all the identification you need?”
“If I have to get tough, fellow, you’ll know it.”
I leaned down and turned my ignition key and pressed the starter. The motor caught and idled down.
“Cut that motor,” he said savagely, and put his foot on the running-board .
I cut the motor again and leaned back and looked at him.
“God damn it,” he said, “do you want me to drag you out of there and bounce you on the pavement?”
I got my wallet out and handed it to him. He drew the celluloid pocket out and looked at my driver’s license, then turned the pocket over and looked at the photostat of my other license on the back. He rammed it contemptuously back into the wallet and handed me the wallet: I put it away. His hand dipped and came up with a blue and gold police badge.
“Degarmo, detective—lieutenant,” he said in his heavy brutal voice.
“Pleased to meet you, lieutenant.”
“Skip it. Now tell why you’re down here casing Almore’s place.”
“I’m not casing Almore’s place, as you put it, lieutenant. I never heard of Dr. Almore and I don’t know of any reason why I should want to case his house.”
He turned his head to spit. I was meeting the spitting boys today.
“What’s your grift then? We don’t like peepers down here. We don’t have one in town.”
“Is that so?”
“Yeah, that’s so. So come on, talk it up. Unless you want to ride down to the clubhouse and sweat it out under the bright lights.”
I didn’t answer him.
“Her folks hire you?” he asked suddenly.
I shook my head.
“The last boy that tried it ended up on the road gang, sweetheart.”
“I bet it’s good,” I said, “if only I could guess. Tried what?”
“Tried to put the bite on him,” he said thinly.
“Too bad I don’t know how,” I said. “He looks like an easy man to bite.”
“That line of talk don’t buy you anything,” he said.
“All right,” I said. “Let’s put it this way. I don’t know Dr. Almore, never heard of him, and I’m not interested in him. I’m down here visiting a friend and looking at the view. If I’m doing anything else, it doesn’t happen to be any of your business. If you don’t like that, the best thing to do is take it down to headquarters and see the day captain.”
He moved a foot heavily on the running-board and looked doubtful. “Straight goods?” he asked slowly.
“Straight goods.”
“Aw hell, the guy’s screwy,” he said suddenly and looked back over his shoulder at the house. “He ought to see a doctor.” He laughed, without any amusement in the laugh. He took his foot off my running-board and rumpled his wiry hair.
“Go on—beat it,” he said. “Stay off our reservation, and you won’t make any enemies.”
I pressed the starter again. When the motor was idling gently I said: “How’s Al Norgaard these days?”
He stared at me. “You know Al?”
“Yeah. He and I worked on a case down here a couple of years ago—when Wax was chief of police.”
“Al’s in the military police. I wish I was,” he said bitterly. He started to walk away and then swung sharply on his heel. “Go on, beat it before I change my mind,” he snapped.
He walked heavily across the street and through Dr. Almore’s front gate again.
I let the clutch in and drove away. On the way back to the city, I listened to my thoughts. They moved fitfully in and out, like Dr. Almore’s thin nervous hands pulling at the edges of his curtains.
Back in Los Angeles I ate lunch and went up to my office in the Cahuenga Building to see what mail there was. I called Kingsley from there.
“I saw Lavery,” I told him. “He told me just enough dirt to sound frank. I tried to needle him a, little, but nothing came of it. I still like the idea that they quarreled and split up and that he hopes to fix it up with her yet.”
“Then he must know where she is,” Kingsley said.
“He might, but it doesn’t follow. By the way a rather curious thing happened to me on Lavery’s street. There are only two houses. The other belongs to a Dr. Almore.” I told him briefly about the rather curious thing.
He was silent for a moment at the end and then he said: “Is this Dr. Albert Almore?”
“Yes?”
“He was Crystal’s doctor for a time. He came to the house several times when she was—well, when she had been overdrinking. I thought him a little too quick with a hypodermic needle. His wife—let me see, there was something about his wife. Oh yes, she committed suicide.”
I said, “When?”
“I don’t remember. Quite a long time ago. I never knew them socially. What are you going to do now?”
I told him I was going up to Puma Lake, although it was a little late in the day to start.
He said I would have plenty of time and that they had an hour more daylight in the mountains.
I said that was fine and we hung up.
5
San Bernardino baked and shimmered in the afternoon heat. The air was hot enough to blister my tongue. I drove through it gasping, stopped long enough to buy a pint of liquor in case I fainted before I got to the mountains, and started up the long grade to Crestline. In fifteen miles the road climbed five thousand feet, but even then it was far from cool. Thirty miles of mountain driving brought me to the tall pines and a place called Bubbling Springs. It had a clapboard store and a gas pump, but it felt like paradise. From there on it was cool all the way.
The Puma Lake dam had an armed sentry at each end and one in the middle. The first one I came to had me close all the windows of the car before crossing the dam. About a hundred yards away from the dam a rope with cork floats barred the pleasure boats from coming any closer. Beyond these details the war did not seem to have done anything much to Puma Lake.