“Ralph is interested in that kind of work, too. Is that how you know him?”
“In a way. Let’s talk about Ralph. Can you tell me anything about that job he lost?”
“He was a houseboy, more or less. He took jobs like that when he couldn’t get anything else. He worked for a mucky-muck up the lake. He showed me the house one night when the family was out. It was quite a layout.”
“I’ve seen the Blackwell place.”
“Blackwell. That was the name.”
“How long did Ralph work for the Blackwells?”
“A week or so. I didn’t keep tabs on him.” She smiled in her puzzled way. “I have enough trouble keeping tabs on myself.”
“Why did they fire him?”
“He didn’t tell me he was fired. He said he quit because he had what he wanted. Anyway, the family was going back down south.”
“I don’t understand.”
“They closed the lodge and went back to L. A. or wherever they live. Ralph thought they were going to stay longer, but they changed their minds.”
“I mean I don’t understand about Ralph getting what he wanted.”
“Neither do I. You know Ralph, he likes to act mysterious. Ralph Simpson, boy detective. It’s kind of cute.”
“Was Ralph doing some sort of detective work at the Blackwell place?”
“So he said. I don’t always buy a hundred per cent of what Ralph says. He goes to a lot of movies and sometimes he gets them mixed up with the things he does himself.” She added, with an indulgent glance at the paperbacks on the dressing table: “I do the same thing with stories sometimes. It makes life more exciting.”
I brought her back to the subject: “Tell me what Ralph said.”
“I couldn’t – my memory isn’t that good. The way he talked, it was all mixed up with the tragedy that happened to Dolly. That hit Ralph hard. He was very fond of Dolly.”
“Are you talking about the Dolly who married Bruce Campion?”
The force of the question pushed her off the bed away from me. She went to the far side of the room, which wasn’t very far, and stood beside the dressing table in a defensive posture.
“You don’t have to shout at a girl. I have neighbors, remember. The management’s always breathing down my back.”
“I’m sorry, Fawn. The question is important.”
“I bet you’re working on Dolly’s murder, aren’t you?”
“Yes. Was Ralph?”
“I guess he thought he was. But Ralph is no great operator. It’s time somebody with something on the ball did something. Dolly was a sweet kid. She didn’t deserve to die.”
She looked up at the low ceiling, as if Dolly’s epitaph was also a prayer for herself. Tentatively, almost unconsciously, she drifted back across the room, stood over me with eyes like brimming pools.
“It’s a terrible world.”
“There are terrible people in it, anyway. Do you know Bruce Campion?”
“I wouldn’t say I know him. Ralph took me out to their place once, when Dolly was living with him. She was crazy about him at that time. She followed him around like a little poodle.”
“How did Campion treat her?”
“All right. Actually he didn’t pay too much attention to her. I think he kept her around because he needed a model. He wanted me to model for him, too. I told him I hadn’t sunk that low yet, to pose for dirty pictures.”
“He painted dirty pictures?”
“It sounded like it to me. Dolly said he made her take her clothes off.” Her nostrils flared with righteous indignation. “I only know one good reason a girl should uncover herself in front of a man.”
“Why did Campion marry her if all he wanted was a model?”
“Oh, he wanted more. They always do. Anyway, he had to marry her. He got her pregnant.”
“Did Dolly tell you this?”
“She didn’t have to tell me. I could see it already when Ralph and I were out there.”
“Do you remember when that was?”
“It was along toward the end of last summer, late August or early September. They weren’t married yet, but they were talking about it, at least she was. Ralph brought along a bottle, and we drank a toast to their happiness. It didn’t do much good, did it? She’s dead, and he’s on the run.” She touched my shoulder. “Did he really kill her?”
“All the evidence seems to point to him.”
“Ralph said that isn’t so. He said there was other evidence, but the cops held back on it. He may have been telling the truth, or having one of his movie spells. You never can tell about Ralph, ’specially where one of his friends is concerned.” She drew a deep breath.
“When did Ralph say these things to you?”
Using her hand on my shoulder as a pivot, she sat down beside me. “The last night he was here. We sat up talking, after I got in.”
“Did he tell you what the other evidence was?”
“No. He kept his lips buttoned. The man of mystery.”
“Did he show you anything?”
“No.”
“What did he have with him when he left here?”
“Just the clothes that he stood up in. When he came up here he wasn’t planning to stay, but then he got this job.” She hesitated. “I almost forgot the bundle. He dropped this bundle off with me a day or two before his job folded. I wasn’t supposed to open it, he said. I felt it, though. It felt like it had clothes in it.”
“What kind of clothes?”
“I wouldn’t know. It was a great big bundle.” She opened her arms. “I tried to ask Ralph about it, but he wasn’t talking.”
“Was it stolen goods, do you think?”
She shook her head. “Of course not. Ralph’s no thief.”
“What sort of a man is he?”
“I thought you knew him.”
“Not as well as you do.”
She answered after a little thought: “I like Ralph. I don’t want to criticize him. He has a lot of good ideas. The trouble is, he never follows through on them. He keeps changing, because he can’t make up his mind what he wants to be. I can remember, when we were kids, Ralph was always talking about how he was going to be a big criminal lawyer. But then he never even made it through high school. It’s been like that all his life.”
“How long has he known Campion?”
“It goes ’way back,” she said. “Ten years or more. I think they were Army buddies in Korea. They did some talking about Korea the day Ralph took me out to the cabin.”
“I’m interested in that cabin. Do you think you could find it again?”
“Now?”
“Now.”
She looked at the leatherette-covered traveling clock on the dressing table. “I have a date. He’s due here any time.”
“Stand him up.”
“I got rent to pay, mister. Anyway, you won’t find Bruce Campion there. He only had the cabin for a while last summer. Somebody lent him the use of it.”
“I still want to see it.”
“Tomorrow. Buy me brunch tomorrow, and I’ll show you where it is. It’s real wild on that side of the lake. Buy some sandwiches and we’ll have a picnic.”
“I like night picnics.”
“But I have a date.”
“How much do you expect to make out of him?”
She frowned. “I don’t think of it that way. They give me money to gamble, that’s their business. Nobody says I have to throw it all away.”
“I’m asking you how much a couple of hours of your time is worth.”
She blinked her innocent eyes. “Twenty?” she said. “And dinner?”
We set out in the rented Ford, along a road which branched north off the highway through thickening timber. Above the broken dark lines of the trees there were almost as many stars as I had seen in Mexico. The night was turning colder, and the girl moved over against me.
“Turn on the heater, will you, mister? I don’t even know your name.”