Here, Greg glanced at the inspector, who remained impassive. With a shrug, Greg went on. “Please have a seat, Ralph. Concepcion, for heaven’s sake, shut that door!” As she hastily complied, Greg turned again to Ramirez. “Senor Carden is a personal friend and a respected employee of this company. We both would like an explanation.”
Grimly Ramirez turned to me. “Senorita, is this the man, Ralph Carden, you saw the other night?”
Everyone was watching me, and tempers were clearly short. Slowly I sat back down and tried to answer carefully. “This is not the man I saw New Year’s Eve.”
Carden muttered a loud, “Thank heaven for that!”
I tried to ignore him and went on. “In fact, I’ve never seen him before in my life, so I don’t know whether his name is Ralph Carden or not.”
“It is!” the same voice retorted.
I looked at him and tried to explain, “I’m sorry. It’s just that someone told me his name was Ralph Carden. It must have been another Ralph Carden.”
“Obviously!”
“Or someone using Ralph’s name,” Greg suggested reasonably.
“Why?” Ramirez demanded.
Mr. Iveson shrugged. “Since you haven’t explained what happened, I can hardly be expected to guess what the man was thinking.”
Ramirez glared at Greg. Then he turned back to Ralph Carden. “Senor, have you a son perhaps? Or nephew?”
Mr. Carden snapped out his answers. “I’m not married. And so far as I know I am the only Ralph in my family over age five. And certainly the only one in Mexico. Now may I please return to my office? I do have work to do.”
“In a moment, senor. Senorita, please describe the young man you met.”
“Now what good will that do?” Mr. Iveson demanded.
The inspector was elaborately polite. “Perhaps it was another man with the same name, and this is a coincidence. Then the description will do no good, as you say it. But perhaps the man borrowed Senor Carden’s name. In that case, it is probable he may know the senor.”
“Or,” growled Carden, “he may have picked the name at random out of the telephone book!”
Ramirez nodded. “As you say, he may have done this. In any event, it can do no harm to hear the senoritas description, si?”
I took a deep breath. “He was thirty, maybe. Tall. Six feet, I think, with a medium build. Dark brown hair and brown eyes. Small nose and mouth. His hair was just a little longer than ear length, and it was curly. Oh, and he was from the United States, I’m sure of it.”
“I see.” Ramirez sighed. “So there was nothing to distinguish him?”
I shook my head regretfully.
Calmer now, Carden asked, “Just what is this young man supposed to have done to you?”
I looked at the inspector, who answered for me. “Drugged the senorita.”
For a moment, there was a stunned silence, then Greg started laughing. We all looked at him as if he were crazy. Finding a new target for his anger, Carden voiced our thoughts. “What the devil is wrong with you, Greg? Have you gone crazy?”
Mr. Iveson straightened up and the laughter faded to a wry smile. With a meaningful look, he asked the inspector, “Must we detain Mr. Carden any longer?”
Ramirez ignored him. “Senor Carden, do you know any young men such as the senorita has described?”
Carden snorted, “Dozens, undoubtedly! But I haven’t the slightest idea who she could mean, if that’s what you’re asking.”
Ramirez nodded, with a sigh. “Very well, senor. You may go. And my apologies for disturbing you.”
“Yes, well, that’s all right. Doing your job, I suppose. Can’t blame you. Good day.”
We all waited until Carden was gone. Then Ramirez turned to Greg, eyebrows raised. “Well, Senor Iveson?”
Greg looked at me, took out a handkerchief, and began polishing his glasses before he answered. “This is rather difficult,” he said, with a frown, “since you haven’t explained yet what occurred. However, my own feeling is that Miss Steffee has been under a great deal of strain lately and may have misinterpreted certain things. I gather this business about being drugged refers to Saturday night?” He waited, watching me, until I bit my lower lip and nodded.
Then he went on self-consciously. “Forgive me, Ellen, I don’t want to embarrass you, but I also don’t want unnecessary trouble for anyone. Correct me if I’m wrong, but you’re not really accustomed to drinking, are you, Ellen?”
I hesitated, then shook my head.
“In fact, I’m willing to bet you’ve never had a hangover before, right?” Again I nodded, and this time he sighed. “Yes, well, I can imagine that if you’ve never had a hangover before, the effects could well feel like the effects of having been drugged. Especially when there has been so much trouble and you were attacked so recently.”
Mr. Iveson turned to the inspector. “It’s a common problem, I’m afraid, among our people when they first arrive in Mexico City. It’s very deceptive, but the altitude makes quite a difference in how the body reacts to alcohol.”
Ramirez nodded sympathetically, but said relentlessly, “We still wish to speak with the young man who called himself Senor Carden.”
“Yes,” I said eagerly to Greg, “how do you account for him lying about that?”
Greg was silent for a moment, obviously uncomfortable. Then he said, slowly, “Yes, I see, of course, that you must check out this young man. Certainly, one mustn’t take any chances. Still, you may find his name really is Ralph Carden. Not, of course, related to our Ralph Carden,” he added hastily. “There is another possibility, however. Senor Ramirez, I ask you. When you were younger, didn’t you ever give a senorita a false name?”
The man hesitated, then nodded grudgingly. “Si. If I wished a good time, but no-how do you say it-no complications. It is possible. Still, we must see. Do you know any such young man, Senor Iveson?”
Greg frowned. “Well, as Ralph said, the description could fit dozens of young men. I really don’t know. After all, I didn’t see him-”
“Edna did!” I broke in excitedly.
The three men turned to stare at me, waiting. “Mrs. Iveson saw him follow me into the room.”
“The room?” Greg’s tone seemed ominous.
“A study,” I explained hastily. “I could be wrong, but I think she was nearby.”
Now we all stared at Greg. After a moment, the inspector gestured toward the phone. Immediately, Greg nodded and said with decision, “Of course. She’s far more familiar with the U.S. community here than I am. If anyone could recognize the fellow, she could. If,” he added cautiously, “Edna saw him. Even if she was nearby, she may not have.”
We waited while Mr. Iveson arranged for an outside line. After several minutes, he said, “Senora Iveson, por favor.” There was a pause, then, “Edna? Greg. Yes, fine, fine. What? Oh, of course. Listen, Edna, I’m calling about the party at Doug’s place Saturday night. Yes, that’s right, New Year’s Eve. There are some questions I want to ask you. Hold on a second.” He covered the mouthpiece with his palm and turned to me. “Now when was it that Edna might have seen your young man, Ellen?”
“Ask her if she remembers the fight I had with Mr. Whitford,” I said, carefully not looking at the inspector.
“Edna? Yes. Do you remember Ellen having a fight with Charles Whitford? I see. No, I can’t explain now. Hold on.” Again Greg turned to me expectantly.
“Ask her if she remembers a young man entering the room, either right before or right after she did,” I said.
Greg frowned but repeated the message and waited. Then, “I see. Do you, by any chance, know who he is? No. Well, can you describe him? I see. Tall. Brown hair. Well dressed. Slender. Hold on.” He turned to us. “She saw him, but she doesn’t know who he is.”
Ramirez sighed. “Please ask the senora if she has ever seen him before.”
Greg nodded. “Hello, Edna? Do you remember ever seeing the young man before? Anywhere? You did?” We
all leaned forward eagerly as he went on. “Where? Oh. Yes, I see.” Greg turned to us again. “She’s seen him a few times with friends. All young kids from the U.S.College age. Mostly hippies. At least, that’s what we would have called them ten years ago. Edna thinks he must have crashed the party.”
The inspector was silent, for a while. Finally, he said, “I see. Gracias, senor. One more detail. What is the name of the man who gave the party?”
“Doug. Doug MacAffee,” Greg answered promptly. “Listen, do you have any more questions for my wife, or shall I hang up?”
“No more questions, senor.”
Greg turned back to the phone. “Edna? Sorry to bother you like this, but I think that’s all. Yes, yes, I know. I’ll tell you this evening when I get home. No, no, I don’t think there’s anything to worry about. Yes, Miss Steffee is fine. Okay, dear. Take care. I’ll see you later. Bye.”
Carefully, he replaced the receiver. Ramirez was frowning. Gravely he said, “You will please, Senor Iveson, not discuss this matter with anyone, not even your wife. Tell her… tell her the senorita was curious, or something.”
Greg sighed. “Very well. But she won’t believe me, you know. And I should think you’re making a great fuss over nothing. In my opinion, you should be trying to find the men who attacked Miss Steffee on Thursday.”
“We have,” Ramirez said, calmly.
“What?”
Ramirez permitted himself a wry smile. `That is to say, we believe we know the identity of the men involved and expect to catch them soon. Or, perhaps not.” He shrugged philosophically. “They have much practice in evading us.”
Greg nodded. “Yes. Well, if you have no further questions for me, I would like to get back to work.”
“Of course, senor. And thank you for your assistance.”
Greg grimaced as he stood up. As soon as he had left, I turned to Ramirez and asked, “Well, what do you think?”
He was frowning. “You did not speak, before, of a quarrel with Senor Whitford.”
He paused, obviously waiting, so I told him. Everything. Even going back to the night Rick had given me the earrings. As I spoke, I watched the inspector’s face, but it betrayed nothing. He only said, when I finished, “Perhaps we should speak with Senor Whitford.”
“You can’t,” I blurted out, “he’s in Chicago!”
“What?”
Flushing, I tried to explain. “Mr. Iveson said yesterday that Mr. Whitford was flying to Chicago and wouldn’t be back for a couple of weeks. That’s all I know.”
Ramirez sighed and swore under his breath. Then he spoke in rapid Spanish to the other policeman before he said to me, “You will please excuse me, senorita. I will be back in a very few minutes.”
But Ramirez was gone at least half an hour. While he was gone, the other policeman and I carefully avoided each other’s eyes. Someone brought more coffee and some pastry. It was a welcome diversion. When the inspector finally returned, he was very angry at someone or something. But he was still very polite to me. At my questioning look, he said courteously, “It is as you say. Senor Whitford is in Chicago. And I have no more questions for you today. Perhaps, in a few days, there will be more photographs. Be assured, we will look for this Senor Carden. Meanwhile, I suggest the senorita try to enjoy herself. And, if you are frightened of the least thing, I hope you will call me. Si?”
“Si. “I smiled as I got to my feet.
Ramirez held the door for me as I left. “Good day, senorita.”
“Good day,” I murmured as I slipped past him and out into the hall. Absurdly, I felt a sense of relief that the questioning was over.
Carlos and the other men, Jaime, Luiz, and Eduardo, shut up abruptly as I entered the room. Eduardo, normally a rather shy fellow, broke the silence. “Trouble, Ellen?”
I shook my head. “Not for me. The police believe they know who attacked me, that’s all.” I stopped, realizing how unconvincing I must sound. “I…they also asked more questions about Rick Kemmler. I don’t know why.”
“And Senor Carden?” Luiz asked mischievously.
I started, then realized, of course, the company grapevine would have passed along the news that the police had asked to speak with Mr. Carden. It was inevitable. “Okay,” I said with a sigh, “I met someone who said his name was Ralph Carden. Wrong Carden.”
Jaime would have asked more questions, but Carlos cut him off, saying, “Hey! We have work to do!”
I smiled at Carlos gratefully as I took a chair. In return, Carlos explained the progress they had made while I was gone. As Carlos talked, I was impressed, as usual, by his competence. I only wished I could tell him that Mr. Iveson had said he would soon be in charge.
Some time later, as we waited for Luiz to punch up and run our latest program, the men and I took a fifteen-minute break. At first, they were talking together in Spanish, while I just sat back and relaxed. Then Carlos left the others and came over and sat next to me. Again, he seemed to eye me oddly, but all he said was, “We’re working hard today, yes?” He waited until I nodded before he went on. “After hard work it is good to relax, yes?” Again I nodded. “We, some friends and I” he waved a hand toward the others “we are going to a small cabaret tonight. Perhaps you would like to come along?”
“On a Monday night?” I asked, puzzled.
He laughed. “Si. My brother, he and two friends, they have developed an act and they have convinced another friend, the owner of a small place, to let them perform. Early. But, of course, this friend will say yes only if it is a week night.”
Still, I hesitated.
Carlos seemed to understand. “I assure you, we will have you home before midnight. It will be much fun, I promise!” The idea was very appealing. I needed a chance to relax after the past week. But still, perhaps out of fear, I hesitated. Suddenly, in a much softer voice, Carlos said, “Senor Whitford suggested we watch out for you.”
Startled, I lifted my eyes to his. Carlos was staring at me, his face very grave. He glanced at the others, then went on, in a low, rapid voice. “I have a letter for you, from Whitford. It would be better if you did not read it here.”
I nodded, caught up in the concern I saw in Carlos’s face. From his jacket pocket, he pulled out an envelope. I slipped it into my purse, on the desk beside me. I only had time to note that the stationery was not from the Hotel Bamer. Luiz appeared then, before I could make an excuse to go to the ladies’ rest room. We were all caught up again in the work, and it wasn’t until close to quitting time that I had a chance to take another break. And read the letter.
My footsteps sounded unnaturally loud to me as I walked the short distance to the rest room. I found myself hoping the lounge would be empty. It was. For once, I was grateful that I worked on a floor with few women, none of whom I knew. No one, wandering in, would expect me to gossip. None would feel free to ask about the letter.
The envelope was plain; the paper was company stationery. I had never seen Charles’s handwriting, so I couldn’t know whether it was his or not. The letter seemed to have been written quickly. In my haste, I read it through twice before the words began to sink in.
Ellen:
I haven’t much time. By the time you read this, I’ll be in Chicago. I leave in less than an hour. Ellen, I think you were drugged last night at the party. And I’m betting that it won’t be the last attempt. So, first of all, BE CAREFUL. I tried reaching Ramirez at the police station. No luck. I’m mailing him a letter, explaining what I think happened, but I don’t know when he’ll get it. Right now, I’ve just finished talking with Carlos. I don’t know who else to tell you to trust. More people than either of us realize may be involved. But not Carlos. That I’m sure of.
I know you must be feeling furious at me. First, I tell you you’re in danger. Then, I tell you I’m leaving town and don’t know when I’ll be back. But, believe me, Ellen, it’s absolutely necessary.
By now, you must also be feeling suspicious. How do you know it’s really m
e who wrote this letter? (At least, I hope you’re suspicious!) Do you remember the anthropological museum? And telling me that I disliked balloons, young men and women, and cats and dogs, as well? Or noticing, the first time I took you to dinner, that I wasn’t wearing a wedding ring? I hope so, because it’s all I can think of.
Hopefully, I’ll see you in a week, or less, Ellen. In the meantime, be careful. Don’t tell anyone about this letter except the police.
And, Ellen, when I come back, maybe I’ll have the chance to tell you that I love you.
Charles
I stared at the letter, stunned. Not quite sure what stunned me most. The only thing I was certain of, was that Charles had written the letter. And he thought maybe he loved me.
I heard footsteps then, approaching the rest room, and I hastily folded the note and put it back in my purse. It was time, anyway, that I got back to work. Briskly, I opened the door as a slightly dowdy, middle-aged woman started to enter. For a brief moment, we stared at each other, then passed. Neither of us smiled.
When I reached our workroom, I had another surprise. Greg Iveson was waiting by my desk.
Instinctively, I glanced at my watch. No, I was right. Mr. Iveson was early, by at least half an hour. As I looked up from my watch, Greg looked up from the papers on my desk that he had been studying. He smiled. “Ah, Miss Steffee, there you are. I’m leaving somewhat early today. I hope that won’t inconvenience you? You’ve had a rough day, also, and I’m sure you could use a rest.”
I glanced over at Carlos, who was pretending to be busy, and said regretfully, “Actually, Mr. Iveson, we are in the middle of some important runs. Besides, the men have invited me to join them this evening. They thought I might like to go to a nightclub.”
Greg raised his eyebrows in surprise, but he sounded pleased as he replied, “Really? That sounds like a marvelous idea, Miss Steffee. Lord knows you look as though you could use some fun. How will you get home? A taxi?”
“I have a car. I will drive her,” Carlos answered, suddenly appearing beside me.
My Love Betrayed Page 10
