He went for his clothes.
“I can put a slug into you faster than you can try to pull a stunt — is that understood?”
“Yes mam!”
“Then get something on. You’re too tempting.”
Surprise and mild shock stung him; he wondered how she intended that? Few women expressed themselves so openly. If, of course, she had placed that meaning to her words. Well — why not? If the situation had been the reverse, he would be keenly enjoying the spectacle of her... He opened a bureau drawer and selected a pair of shorts patterned in large red polka dots.
“Sissy!” she stated witheringly.
“You’re dripping water on my floor,” he retorted.
He turned his back and stepped into the shorts, reached in the drawer for an undershirt, put it on, and turned to face her again. She was silently laughing at him.
She had taken up a position near the door, her back to the wall, standing with shining legs braced apart, watching his every move. The shining legs were clad in nylon, he decided. Fetchingly clad. He mentally compared her with an earlier description he had tabulated, already knowing the answer and already wondering what he was going to do about it.
She stood close to five-foot-nine in high heels. The boots she wore fitted over them. Water dripped from a small, mannish hat pulled low over her eyes, dripping onto a dark green raincoat that outlined her figure. The rim of the coat was depositing the water on the floor. She kept her eyes on him.
He hoped she wasn’t the nervous type, and slipped into his trousers. Later, in the act of buttoning his shirt the crazy humor of the scene struck him. He started to laugh, silently and steadily, his shoulders shaking.
Instantly she stepped away from the wall.
“What is so funny?”
“You... me... this—” He waved a wide hand to include both of them and the room at large. “A lot of things have happened to me, but this ties it.”
“Yes?”
“Yes. Sorry, but I can’t help it. Its comical.”
She whispered crushingly, “You may be laughing out of the other side of your face — soon.”
He abruptly wiped the laughter off.
“Say — how did you get in here?”
She shrugged. “Walked in.”
He brushed it aside, impatiently. “I mean up here? Up the stairs?”
“Walked up,” she answered irritatingly.
“But the front door was locked.”
She cocked her head aside. “I haven’t yet met the door that can stop me.”
He paused to consider the remark.
“Take off your hat,” he said suddenly.
She eyed him. “Why should I?”
“I want to see if your hair is red... or auburn.”
“It is.” She didn’t remove the hat.
“Ummm. You play tricks with automobiles?”
“Do I?”
“You do. I know who you are, you see.”
“Oh... do you?” She added a certain something to the tone of her voice that he couldn’t immediately identify.
“Well, I’ve seen you before.”
The face beneath the mannish hat nodded. “Yes, I’ve realized that. It’s too bad.”
“Is it?” he asked, imitating her replies.
“Stop stalling! Let’s be moving. Get your coat; don’t put your shoes on.”
“Don’t put my— But its raining outside!”
“Do as I say!” The gun moved suggestively.
He put his coat on, reached into the closet for his raincoat and a showerproof hat, picked up his shoes and followed her to the door. She stopped him.
“Turn out your pockets.”
“Turn out my— Why?”
Her hand whipped up behind him and there was a steady pressure in his back. She held out her other hand open.
“Turn them out.”
He shrugged and gave her the contents of his pockets. A comb, wallet, pen and pencil, key ring, a crumpled receipt, a bookie’s tab on a three-day-old horse race, a tin of aspirin, a handkerchief, and some small change. His pipe, tobacco pouch and a booklet of matches completed the haul. She took stock of it.
“Where’s your gun?” Suspicion was in her tone.
Horne’s face turned deeply pink and he jerked a thumb behind him.
“Where is it?”
“Under my pillow.”
A derisive laugh broke on her lips. “My hero!”
“A guy can’t win all the time,” he said defensively. “Only the movie heroes do. I want the handkerchief and—”
“Does it have an initial?”
“No.”
“All right. Take it, and the comb, and the pills.” He took the articles from her hand and she threw the rest on the floor.
“Hey — my wallet.”
She wagged her head solemnly. “You’ll have no use for money, not after tonight.”
He frowned. She had let him keep some things.
“There is but one more word,” she said huskily. She stood close to him, so close he could stare down into the black pupils of her fascinating green eyes, so close there was but the length of the steel barrel separating his body from hers. Her heady perfume beat at him in waves. “A last word,” she continued, “of excellent advice.”
He said to the eyes, “Fire away, baby.”
The eyes flicked briefly. “The old lady who runs this house is a tidy housekeeper, I imagine?”
“You imagine right.”
“A tidy housekeeper would be rather badly upset to find a body at the foot of the stairs and the carpets ruined by blood, I imagine?”
“You have an excellent imagination.”
The fine skin about her eyes crinkled but the smile never appeared on her lips. She nodded. “Your body will not be found there, I can also imagine.”
“How right you are! But what is this leading to?”
“Simply this: go down those stairs and out the door without making noise. Do that, and the old lady won’t become upset. Do something foolish to attract attention and you’ll give her a shock. I trust I make myself clear?”
She did. He put on his hat and switched out the bedroom light. The descent of the stairway was made in silence. No one was stirring on the ground floor. He saw a light under the door of Dr. Saari’s room but there was no movement behind the door. Together they slipped through the front entrance. She put out a hand to stop him.
“You can put your shoes on now.”
He slipped them on, struggled into the raincoat, and turned to her. She was watching him with pursed lips, openly speculating upon something known only to herself.
“Well—” he demanded.
“My car is down there... around the corner. Now frankly, Jack, you were expensive and I’d hate to lose you. On the other hand, I value my car; I don’t want the upholstery ruined any more than this old lady would want to see her best rug ruined. So, if you’re planning anything foolish do it now, before we reach the car.”
“Like getting away from you, you mean?”
She nodded. “Go on, try it. The rain will wash away the stains.”
He hesitated, unable to decide the degree of seriousness to her voice. She correctly interpreted his hesitation.
“If you’re going to do it, Jack, do it now. Get it out of your system. Go on, I dare you.”
Still he hesitated. He thought he could disarm the woman before she could use the gun, possibly throw her from the porch, but he wasn’t sure. He wasn’t so foolish as to try to run away from her. On the other hand the desire to stay and see it through was a strong one. She had made some statements that were highly curious. Such as referring to him as being expensive... as if she had purchased him. He turned that over in his mind and was lost.