“That’s right.”
“Damn you, tell me the real reason.”
“The man who took you for a hundred and twenty thousand was murdered. It looked as if M’Gruder might have done it and could be arrested for it sooner or later. Then that house party would have figured in the trial. I wanted to check it out.”
The quick red fox stared at me with foxy eyes, instantly aware of the implications. She fingered her throat. “Off the hook on that, eh?”
“Yes. And I have a hunch you’ll be in the clear on the other too. I wonder about you, Lee. Take a look at that house party list. Nancy Abbott is beyond hope. Vance and Patty and Sonny Catton are dead. The photographer is dead: Poor little Whippy is trade for the butch.”
“Really? What is all this? The hand of God? Punishment? Don’t be an ass, McGee. Sometimes the swingers go quicker. Maybe because they don’t have their feet braced. If that kind of little fun-party could kill, honey, lower California would be shrinking. You know, you do drag a little. Have you noticed it? Oh, hell, I don’t want to fight you. It’s going to be weeks and weeks before Dana can get back on the ball. That’s what they told me. I’ll keep her on salary, of course. And there’s a sick benefit thing she’s entitled to. Scotty will check that all out for her and take care of it. I think…”
Herm came to the door and beckoned to her. She excused herself and went to him. They talked a few moments in low tones. He left and she came slowly back to me. “There’s a meeting I don’t dare miss. Damn it. I did want to see Dana, at least once more. Herm is going to have to smuggle me into town and bring the stand-in along later. McGee, my darling, I’ve got a thousand things to do…”
“You sent for me. Remember?”
She snapped her fingers. “Of course. Darling, you got the thousand expenses? You understand that our deal was to get me completely free and clear. Right? It’s all or nothing, you understand. If your plan works, you come to see me and we’ll settle up. All right? Darling, I do love Dana like a sister, but sick people depress me so. Could you find some nice little dude ranch or something for her, and a woman to take care. I’ll have Victor Scott work out the money end with you. Would you mind terribly? After all, you must find each other attractive. I’m entirely clear publicity-wise on this end because, thank God, there isn’t a shred to link me to Vance in any way.” She patted my face. “Be a dear and take care of our girl. Give her my love, and bring her back to me when she’s truly healthy again.”
On Thursday afternoon the improvement in Dana was astonishing. The puffiness was gone, but there were saffron marks of the bruises. She wore lipstick. She was propped up. Her smile of greeting was shy.
They let me have an hour with her. She was anxious to know what had happened. I knew it might tire her, but I had to brief her before some official visited her and asked questions. I caught her up to date, including the plan to trap Bogen.
When I got back to The Hallmark at four that afternoon, there was a message to call a Los Angeles operator. When it went through, Lysa came on the phone, yapping with glee and relief. “McGee, darling? It worked, you shrewd, shrewd man! Our own people got him, and took away the nasty little gun he was going to shoot me with. Shoot the stand-in, I mean. And they went to his nasty little rooms and got all the photographs, and then they turned him and his nasty little gun over to the law. My God, I didn’t even know the terrible tension I was under. It’s such a relief.”
“Wouldn’t it be nice if you asked about Dana?”
“Give me time, for God’s sake! All right. How is she?”
“Much, much better.”
“That’s fine. That’s good to hear.”
“You and I have a little accounting to do.”
“I know that. Damn it, what makes you so sour? Give me a chance. What’s today? Thursday. Let me look at my book.” I waited five minutes and she came back on the line. “Darling, I’ll be home Monday afternoon. You fly in and come talk to me about it.”
“Talk to you about it?”
“Darling, you don’t exactly have a contract, you know. And a frightened person can make some very rash promises. Technically, you really weren’t in at the kill, were you?”
“Monday afternoon,” I said and hung up. I did not know why I had been sour with her. Something was wrong, and I did not know what it was.
On Sunday afternoon I found out what my instincts had been trying to tell me. The nurse and I helped Dana into the wheelchair and I rolled her to the big sun room, to a private corner.
“Here’s the way I have it lined up,” I told her. I sat holding her hand. “Ten days before they spring you, then say a week or so more before you can travel, honey. So I tote you east, get you settled aboard, and after a few days we can go cruising. How does that sound?”
She gently, firmly pulled her hand away from mine. She looked away from me. “Travis, you have been very good to me.”
“What’s the matter?”
“It was all… mixed up and crazy. It wasn’t me, really. I don’t know how to tell you. I’m not like that. I’m married. I don’t even know how I could have been so… so silly. I think it was because of working for her, maybe. I’m not going back to her.”
I put my fingertips under her chin and turned her head and made her look at me. I looked at her until she flushed and twisted her head away. She meant it. A new conception. You could get a hit on the head that could knock love out of you for good and all. When their eyes go that dead for you, there’s no way to ever get back. I knew what my instincts had been trying to tell me.
“You don’t have to stay around,” she said. “I mean, I’m used to looking after myself. I’ll be fine, really. I do want to thank you for everything. I feel so sorry about… giving you the wrong idea and a lot of false hopes and…”
“You can still be honest, can’t you?”
“Of course.”
“How do you feel about my coming to see you here, Dana?”
She hesitated, then lifted her chin a half inch. “I d-dread it, Travis. I’m terribly sorry. It just keeps reminding me of something I’d rather forget.”
Then all that was left us was the goodby ritual, which was, after the details of what to do with her belongings, and my promise to send a nurse to wheel her back to her room, a handshake. McGee, the great lover. This was one I wanted to keep. No, not this one. I didn’t even know this one. The one I wanted to keep was the one Ullie had bashed on her way to go kill herself. This Dana wanted to forget that Dana. And damn well soon would. So shake hands with your darling and say goodby and try not to see the evident relief she tries to hide.
The cab deposited me in front of Lysa Dean’s iron gates on Monday afternoon. The Korean let me through the gates. The maid let me into the house and then disappeared. The house was as silent as when I had been there with Dana. The big oil portraits of Lysa Dean stared emotionally at me through the halfgloom of draperied sunlight.
I roamed and plinked two notes out of the gold and white piano. Lysa Dean came swiftly into the room, in black knit pants and a white silk overblouse, an effective combination to go with gold-red hair in a room of whites and blacks and golds. She wore woolly white slippers and carried a white envelope in her hand. She hurried to me, stretched up to kiss me with the faked sweet-shyness of a welcoming child, and took me by my good hand to a vast couch in a shadowed alcove.
“How is dear Dana?” she asked.
“Marvelously improved.”
“When can she come back to work, dear? I really need her, desperately.”
“She’ll have to take it easy for a while.”
“McGee, darling, do use your influence on her. Tell her Lysa needs her sooooo much.”
“I’ll tell her that the very first chance I get.”
“You are a huge old sweetie. Now what about the photos I gave you in Miami?”
“I’ve destroyed the ones I had made, with your face blanked out. When I get back, I’ll destroy the other ones… unless you want them.”