“They’re married!” she flung at him.
“You don’t treat her as a mother.”
Betty shrugged. “I don’t give a tinker’s damn for the old witch. But I like Papa.”
“Where is Papa?” he thrust in quickly.
Her eyes were troubled. “We don’t know. He... he hasn’t been in touch with us for several days.”
“Aren’t you worried? Maybe he took a run-out.”
“Not Papa!” she flared. “Papa wouldn’t do that to me.” She hesitated, then confessed, “The old lady said that, too.”
“Where did all this start? Mind telling me?”
“No, not at all. It’ll never do you any good. We’re going to have fun here!” she added warmly, eyes sparkling at him.
“Don’t change the subject.” He was beginning to have a bright and shining idea. “You’re rather new in this business. You make too many mistakes.”
“I’ve been working for Papa for a couple of years. Since I went over the hill.”
“And that was where?”
“In Riverside, California. She and a veterinarian named Ackerley ran a hospital there.”
“Ackerley is dead,” he said significantly.
She nodded. “He was a good joe until he got suspicious. Papa kept him for a straight front in the hospital.” She held the beer bottle up before her eyes and stared through it at the sunshine filling the window. “Poison, I think. He outgrew his usefulness.”
Horne jumped up.
“Why you cold... cold...”
“You tried to say that before,” she reminded him. “Cold bitch. So what? Sit down.”
He sat down. “And by and by things got hot in California and the outfit moved here. Right?” He questioned her softly. “How many would you say are leaving money to this doggie joint?”
“Two or three, perhaps. Not many. We can’t afford to excite the curiosity of the insurance company. Accidents, you know, bear looking into.”
“Accidents,” he echoed. “With your kind assistance.”
“An automobile smashup here, a kerosene stove explosion there,” she shrugged it away. “And juries still fall for the ‘I didn’t know it was loaded’ gag. Funny thing — most of the boobs didn’t know it was loaded. They fret and stew for weeks and months afterwards, tormenting themselves with that question. How did the bullet get in the gun? And they never find out.”
“Slick,” he said admiringly, in spite of himself. “Damned slick. People are so sure the gun isn’t loaded.”
“I’m pretty good,” she admitted modestly.
“Betty,” he asked quickly, “what happens to the money after it passes into the hospital’s account? Who splits with who?”
She looked at him, interestedly and warmly. “Jack, that’s the first time you’ve called me by name.”
“Never mind that. Answer my question.”
“Go to hell!” she retorted sharply. “Oh, Jack! Don’t make me say things like that. I want to love you.” She stopped, brightened considerably, and dug into her purse. “Look, baby doll. I’ve brought your mail.” She threw three letters at him.
He scooped them up, saw that two were addressed to him at the office and the third was the report he had mailed to the home office last night on the way home.
“Hey!” he exclaimed in surprise and alarm. “I mailed this one. In a street box.”
She grinned in delicious amusement. “I thought you’d take it that way. I have a key, darling. I got it out again.”
“You have a key to a mailbox?”
“I have the key to all the mailboxes. Every letter carrier has one. One key unlocks all the boxes in Boone. It comes in handy.”
He started to remark that was a prison offense, and didn’t, thinking how utterly foolish it would have sounded to her. Instead, he just stared at her.
She waited. “Well, aren’t you going to thank me? I want a kiss.”
He put his index finger to the back of his ear and touched it tenderly.
She jumped up and ran over to him. “I’m sorry, Jack. I really am. I had to do that.” Taking his face in her hands, she softly kissed the spot where she had hit him. He kept his eyes open.
“I was looking over your books,” he said some moments later.
“Were you? Do you like our house?”
“Ever stop to think of the jam you’ll be in if I get out of here?”
“If you get out,” she taunted, smiling.
His jaw stiffened. “Want to make a bet on it?” he asked softly, flexing his cheek muscles.
“Charles Horne! I know that expression! You’re just being stubborn.” She broke off to rummage in the purse, angrily. In her anger she had used his right name. He noted that and wondered about it. She brought a key ring from the depths of the purse and jerked off a single, flat key.
“Here—” she practically threw the key at him. He knew the kind of a key it was. “Take this. That key is to my safety deposit box in the Capitol City National Bank. It’s yours. Yes, I’m giving it to you.”
“But why?”
“Because in that box is everything of value I have, other than what is in this house. No one else can touch it. It’s yours; all yours. It’s yours to keep — if you get out of this house! There, that’s what I think of your wager, Charles Horne!”
“I’m broke,” he answered stupidly. “Stony broke. I can’t bet with you.”
Instantly the burning anger vanished and she was soft with smiles again, running her fingers over his hair.
“Never mind, Jack. The bet still stands. Everything in that deposit box against your nothing. Except what I have of you here now. Put the key in your pocket.”
He hesitated a moment and then pocketed the key.
“I want some shirts,” he said. “And a couple of books of poetry.”
She cocked her head. “Poetry? Like those you’ve been buying?”
“Yeah. And don’t forget the shirts.”
“All right, darling. But I’d rather look at you the way you are. You give me cozy ideas.”
He cast about for a diverting subject. “Who falsified the record concerning Channy’s sick dog?”
“Oh, Jack! Must you always play detective? Relax and enjoy your new home. We’ll have fun here. Isn’t it nice?”
“Swell. Who gummed up the record file?”
She sighed in exasperation. “Oh, very well. Ackerley did it. Channy never had a dog; he was sent into Boone as a sort of advance agent in 1940. Two or three years later he opened the animal hospital for the old lady, who was preparing to leave Riverside. He took out a policy, naming the hospital as his beneficiary.
“Ackerley made out the false card and placed it in the file sometime recently. Before he died, I mean. And don’t think it didn’t foul us up when you discovered it!”
“That,” offered Horne, “must have been the exact reason for placing it there.”
“I wonder why he didn’t trust us?” she asked musingly.
“That’s a good question. After all, you never harmed the old gaffer except to poison him. Why didn’t he?” Horne grimaced. “Let me ask one: why did the old lady call Lainey to examine the files for me?”
“She never suspected a Channy card would be found there, ninny! By not having a Channy as a client, she could disclaim any further interest in him as the man who left her money.”
“She was certainly a good actress,” he admitted grudgingly. “The appearance of the card never fazed her.” He finished the bottle of beer and contemplated the girl. “Speaking of acting: how did you do it?”
“Do what, baby doll?”
“Tail me for a year without my getting wise? I thought I was smart. I hate to admit it, but I’ve never seen you.”
“But of course you have, darling! Dozens of times. Think back. Remember one winter evening in that little restaurant on Indiana Avenue? I dropped my purse and a handful of silver dollars rolled across the floor. You and a couple of other men helped me find them.”