Double or Quits

by Erle Stanley Gardner

  “I can probably break the ice by telling him his face is familiar and ”

  “No. Better let it ride along the way it is now.”

  “You didn’t offend him, did you. Mr.—er—Donald?”

  “Uh huh.”

  “How?”

  “I asked him if Dr. Devarest hadn’t had some money invested in the oil properties.”

  “Why did he mind that?”

  “Because if that had been the case, Harmley would have been holding out on Mrs. Devarest.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Suppose Dr. Devarest gave him two hundred and fifty dollars to put in the business. Suppose the business had suddenly become enormously profitable. He comes in and pays the two hundred and fifty dollars back as a loan.”

  “Wouldn’t there have been some record, some ”

  “There might not have been.” She thought things over, then looked at me with a half frightened expression in her eyes. “You don’t trust people very much, do you, Donald?”

  “No,” I said. “Could you get your husband up to your lawyer’s office?”

  “Only if he thought he was going to get something.” I said, “Bring Harmley and your former husband together where someone who’s trained to appreciate the significance of casual remarks can hear what they say as soon as they recognize each other.”

  “You mean Mr. Timkan?”

  “If he’s a good lawyer, he should be able to get a pretty good clue from what they say when they meet each other.”

  “I’ll try to arrange it. I think it would be well to let everyone think you’re—well, a particular friend of mine—act that way.”

  “Okay. I’ll be devoted when Harmley is around.”

  “Only when someone is around.”

  “That’s right. Who’s the man going into the house?”

  “Rufus Bayley, the chauffeur.” It was the same man I’d seen looking in through the tool-house door the night Dr. Devarest died.

  I said, “I’d like to look him over.”

  “Rufus,” she called in a low, musical voice.

  He was just opening the door. He whirled and his face changed expression. Then he saw me, and his face became a mask again. It was a big-featured face, one that gave an impression of good-natured power, like that of a Saint Bernard or a Great Dane.

  “Yes, Mrs. Croy.”

  “Did you grease and oil my car yesterday?”

  “Yes. Mrs. Croy.”

  “That enough?” she asked me in a low voice.

  I saw the nephew, Jim Timley, leaving the house. “It’s enough for right now,” I said, and she dismissed him with a smile and a gesture.

  Jim Timley came marching toward us across the patio. He moved with the nervous bustle of a man who believes in direct action. His sun-bleached eyes fastened on mine. “I’ve just been talking with Aunt Colette. She told me about you—about this friend-of-the-family business.” I nodded.

  Timley said, “It puts Aunt Colette in a funny position.”

  “What does?”

  “The friend-of-the-family idea.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “Dr. Devarest’s friends have never heard him speak of you. Aunt Colette felt it might give people the wrong impression —you showing up that way right after Dr. Devarest’s death, and apparently being one of the inner circle. So she thought it would be a better plan for you to be Nadine’s particular friend.”

  “Mrs. Croy’s already broken the news,” I said. “I just want to get my signals straight. I’d hate to start running toward the wrong goal-post.”

  “Or run out of bounds,” Nadine Croy said. Her eyes were smiling at me now.

  “How about passes?” I asked.

  “Laterals strictly. On all forward passes, be sure your receivers are eligible.”

  “Thanks,” I told her. “I will.”

  Chapter VII

  ELSIE BRAND said, “No, Donald, she hasn’t been in all day—hasn’t even telephoned.” I sat down and offered her a cigarette.

  She shook her head. “Bertha doesn’t like me to smoke during office hours.” I said, “Go ahead. I’m a partner now.”

  “So I understand.” She hesitated a moment, then took a cigarette and lit up.

  We smoked for a while in silence. “I think it would be a good plan to raise your wages,” I told her. ” ?”

  “Because you’re always pounding away on the typewriter.”

  “Bertha would run a blood pressure of two hundred and ninety-five. I asked her for a raise last month, and she turned me down so hard I bounced.”

  “How much did you want?”

  “Ten dollars more.”

  “You’ve got it,” I said.

  “You can’t do that.”

  “Why?”

  “I mean you can’t make it stick.”

  “I think I can. You’re raised. How about that smashed bicycle? Heard anything yet?”

  “Not yet. I rang up the Auto Club this morning. I guess she was too smart for us on that one.”

  “Give them a ring again,” I said, “just in case.” Elsie balanced her cigarette on the edge of the ash-tray, dialled a number, asked for a name, and then after a moment said, “Miss Brand. Anything on that smashed bicycle yet?” I saw the expression change on her face. She picked up a pencil and said, “Just a moment…. Nollie Starr, six-eighty-one East Bendon Street…. How much does she want? .. Yes, it was my fault, I guess. I’m sorry… Thank you very much.” She hung up the receiver and tore the page out of her notebook. “There you are,” she said. “Her correct address. She’d waited to make a claim until after she’d had the bicycle repaired. The Auto Club has the bill for repairs. It’s made out directly to her at that address.” I folded the paper, put it in my pocket, and said, “Better follow up on it and make sure the Auto Club has sent a cheque. I wouldn’t want to have Miss Starr trace your licence number and start making inquiries to find out where you work. She might change her living quarters.”

  “Okay, I’ll give them a ring tomorrow. I ” The door pushed open, and Bertha Cool came striding into the office.

  Elsie dropped the cigarette into the ash-tray, ground out the end, swung back toward the keyboard of her typewriter. Bertha Cool made a half-turn to glare at us. I beat her to the punch. “Where have you been all day?” I asked.

  Bertha’s hard little eyes glittered triumphantly. “Fishing,” she announced. “A perfectly swell day fishing, and don’t try to make anything of it. I told you I was going to take life easy. Now, don’t let me interfere with your little tête-à-tête. I know, Donald, that you’re a full-fledged partner in the business. You’ll remind me of it directly. But Elsie works here on a salary. So far, she hasn’t considered herself sufficiently indispensable to demand a full partnership.”

  “Elsie and I were talking business.”

  “Indeed.” I nodded.

  She started to say something, then caught herself, and, with some of the belligerency fading from her eyes, said, “Oh, about that bicycle?”

  “Partially that.”

  “What else?” I said, “Elsie was telling me that, with costs of living going up, she finds it increasingly hard to make both ends meet.”

  “Well, she was wasting her time trying to get sympathy out of you,” Bertha said, her eyes hard and brittle once more. “She told her troubles to me last month, and ”

  “She didn’t get any sympathy from me either,” I said. Mad as she was, Bertha showed surprise.

  “She got cash,” I said, “a ten-dollar raise.” Bertha had started to say something. The significance of my remark dawned on her just as she had her mouth open. She threw her mind into reverse. For a second she stood with her mouth open, then the torrent of words came. “Why, you little squirt! I’m running this office! You may be a partner, but you can’t raise salaries without my consent. And as far as that’s concerned, you ” I said to Bertha, “Wouldn’t it be better to have our quarrels in the private office?” She stood looking at me, blink
ing her eyes rapidly. Abruptly she strode toward the private office. I followed her in, and kicked the door shut.

  She was making a desperate effort to keep her self-control. She said, “I should have known it would be like this. That girl’s no more entitled to a ten-dollar raise than she’s entitled to a chauffeur to drive her back and forth to work. She’s getting paid at the same rate other stenographers in this line of work are paid. She’s –”

  “She’s doing about twice as much work as any other stenographer I’ve ever seen.”

  “Well, what of it?” Bertha demanded. “She wanted the job. I hired her. There were a dozen others who wanted the job. Naturally, I picked the one who could do the most work. That’s good business.” I said, “Times were tough then. Jobs were scarce. You could pick and choose. You can’t do it any more.” Bertha jerked open the drawer of her desk, took out a long ivory cigarette holder, jammed a cigarette into it so hard she doubled over the paper and broke the cylinder. She started to throw the cigarette away, then changed her mind, tore off the broken end instead, and pushed the rest of it carefully into the cigarette holder. She said, “You may not realize it, but I can dissolve this partnership at any time.” I said, “So can I.”

  “You!” she said. “You came here without a nickel in your pockets, and were hungry to boot. You dissolve a partnership that’s giving you more money than you ever had before in your life! Don’t make me laugh!” I said, “And Elsie Brand gets her ten-dollar rise, or the partnership is dissolved.” Bertha’s hand shook as she held the flame to the cigarette. She got up from the desk and walked over to stand at the window, her back turned toward me. After about a minute and a half she turned back to face me. Her face was a mask. She said sweetly, “All right, lover, I can stand it if you can. Only remember, you don’t get a salary any more. You draw half of the net proceeds, after paying expenses. The trouble with you is, you still think you’re being generous with my money. That ten-dollar raise is just five dollars a month out of your pocket. What’s new in the Devarest case?”

  “I’m to see Nadine Croy’s lawyer, a man by the name of Timkan. Do you know him?”

  “No, never heard of him. What are you going to see him about?”

  “The general situation.”

  “When?”

  “Tomorrow morning. She’s going to have a man there who she thinks has something on her former husband.”

  “What?”

  “She thinks this man, Harmley, gave Dr. Devarest some bit of information which enabled him to put the screws on her husband. Whatever the proof was that Dr Devarest had, it was probably in his safe and was stolen.”

  “When the jewels were taken?”

  “Before that. He conceived the stolen-jewel idea so as to have something on which he could call in the police.”

  “Where are the jewels now?”

  “I don’t know. One ring was in the glove compartment, and ”

  “Yes, I know that. But if Dr. Devarest took that jewellery, where is it—the rest of it, I mean?”

  “I haven’t found out yet.”

  “She should pay us a reward for that.”

  “Who?”

  “Mrs. Devarest.”

  “For what?”

  “For recovering her jewels.”

  “I haven’t recovered them yet.”

  “You will.”

  “I’m not even certain Mrs. Devarest hired me to get the jewels back.”

  “What did she hire you for then?”

  “To be a red herring.”

  “On what?”

  “To keep Walter Croy from finding out the name of the person with whom his former wife was in love.”

  “What makes you think that?”

  “Because they started in telling me I was to pose, not as a detective, but as an intimate friend of the family. Then they made it more specific. I was to be Nadine Croy’s personal property.”

  “Well, what’s wrong with that?”

  “Nothing as far as I’m concerned. She’s easy on the eyes, but she’s a little too anxious to have it understood I’m her heart throb.” Bertha said, “I don’t get it.” I said, “Walter Croy started in asking for custody of the child, trying to show that the mother wasn’t a fit person to have the custody. Apparently, he wasn’t doing it because he cared anything about the child. He wanted money. Something happened, and he dropped the case like a hot potato. Then something else happened, and he picked it up again. The fact that he dropped it made Mrs. Croy think she was absolutely safe. She could do anything she wanted to. She might have become a little careless. Now, the matter is right back where it was seven months ago.”

  “How would it help her any to push you out in front as a boy friend?”

  “They couldn’t prove any indiscretions with me, and it would keep the interested parties from looking any farther.” Bertha Cool’s eyes narrowed. “You may have something there.”

  “I’ll know pretty soon,” I said.

  “How?”

  “If she starts dragging me around in public with her, it’ll mean I’m right.”

  “Why all the hooey? After all, she’s divorced now.”

  “When I find that out, I’ll know a lot more about what she’s afraid of.”

  “You think she’s afraid?”

  “Of course.” The telephone rang.

  Bertha picked up the receiver and said, “Who is it, Elsie?” Then she turned to me and said, “That Croy woman is on the line. Elsie told her you were in conference and couldn’t be disturbed. She wants to know if you’re free tonight. She says her Aunt Colette thinks it would be a good plan if you were seen together in public.”

  “Tell Elsie I’ll call back in half an hour.” Bertha transmitted the message and slammed up the receiver with sufficient violence to threaten to smash the telephone. “She’s falling for you.” I said, “That’s nice. She’s got a few hundred thousand in her own name. I might marry her and retire.” Bertha said grimly, “Suppose her intentions aren’t honourable?” I got up and started for the door. “To the pure,” I announced, “all things are pure.” Six hundred and eighty-one East Bendon Street was a brick-sided, ornate-faced apartment house with a lot of gingerbread decorations over the door; a drab lobby with the usual assortment of faded, worn furniture. To one side was a door marked “MANAGER,” two steps and a hallway, with apartments on each side. There were three stories in the building and no elevator. Apartment 304 was on the third floor near the front of the house. The name on the mail-box showed it was held by Dorothy Grail. I rang the doorbell. There were sounds of motion. The door opened a three-inch crack—to the limit of a safety chain which stretched taut across the opening. A pair of intense black eyes regarded me curiously.

  I said, “Does Miss Starr live here?”

  “No. This is Miss Grail’s apartment.”

  “And there isn’t a Miss Starr living here?”

  “No.”

  “You know a Miss Starr?”

  “No.” The door started to close.

  I kept my voice low, talked with quick, jerky sentences. “I can’t understand that. I’m from the Auto Club. She gave this address. I’m to make an adjustment on her bicycle.” I heard the sound of quick, light footfalls, and Nollie Starr’s voice saying, “That’s different, Dot. Let him in.” The black-eyed girl slipped the safety catch. I entered the apartment. It was a two-room affair, a dinky little kitchen, and a combined living room and bedroom with a big wall bed.

  It took Nollie Starr just a moment to place me. First, the realization that my face was familiar, then anger and fear in her eyes.

  A man was sitting over in a chair by the table in the corner of the room. He looked up as he heard Nollie Starr take that quick, startled inhalation of breath. The light shone full on his face. It was Jim Timley.

  I said, “Good evening. I don’t want to interrupt a tête-à-tête, but I thought this might be a good time to get acquainted.” Timley pulled his feet in under him, but it was his arms that raised him
out of the chair more than his legs. He looked as limp as a piece of cooked asparagus.

  The black-eyed girl seemed to be the only one who didn’t want to run. She regarded me curiously, not getting the play.

  I said, “My name’s Lam. I guess no one’s going to introduce us. You’re Dorothy Grail. Now we all know each other. Do we talk here, or would you two prefer to leave Dorothy out of it?” Dorothy Grail pushed the door shut, turned the bolt, and said, “Why not talk here?” Timley said, “Look here, Lam, I can explain this—but I don’t know as I’m called on to do so.” He looked at Nollie Starr, got a little more courage, and said, “Frankly, I don’t see that it’s any of your damn business.” Nollie Starr nodded approvingly.

  Timley liked the approach. The more he saw of it the more sold he got on it. He came barging toward me, his shoulders squared; the lean, bronzed face twitched slightly with nervous emotion. I could see from the swing of his shoulders he added boxing to his other athletic accomplishments.

  “I never did care for snoops, and I don’t like you. You came in that door. You’ve got until I count three to get out of it. One—two–-” I said, “None of it is my business. I’m simply hired to present facts to Mrs. Devarest. I’ll report to her, and you can explain to her.” Timley’s voice held sudden panic. “Come back here.” I said, “If you’ve got any other ideas, start talking.” Timley looked at the girl. He looked as helpless and frightened as a kitten on top of a telegraph pole.

  Nollie Starr said smoothly, “Since you’ve interfered so frequently in my private affairs, I may as well tell you the answer.”

  “It’ll save time,” I said.

  Nollie Starr spoke with the smooth, easy assurance of a woman in perfect command of the situation. “You certainly do jump to conclusions, Mr. Lam,” she said, and laughed.

  “Go ahead,” I told her. “Think fast.” Her eyes showed indignation. “You listen to me,” she said. “I don’t have to think fast. I’m tired of having you dogging me around. Now then, just to show you where you get off, I’ll tell you a little secret. I live here. I’ve been living here for six months. This is my room-mate, Dorothy Grail. Because we had a lease on the apartment I kept up my end, and I wasn’t certain how permanent my job was going to be out at Dr. Devarest’s. A couple of months ago when it was raining, Jim Timley took me home. He met Dorothy. Since then he’s been coming back occasionally. Usually, I try to give them a break and get out when he calls, unless he’s taking Dot somewhere. Tonight I didn’t want to do it because I hadn’t made up my mind just what to do about this other matter.