Elsie hadn’t called me to report—probably for that same reason.
Chapter XV
ELSIE came in about five-thirty. I saw her look swiftly up and down the corridor as she pulled the door shut.
She took off her hat, tossed her purse and hat on the table, looked around the apartment, and said, “God, what a mess ! ”
“What happened at the office?”
“A little of everything. Donald, I’d rather have cut off a right hand than have let you see my apartment with its hair down this way.”
“It’s all right. What happened? Who came to the office?”
“Everybody. Lieutenant Lisman for a starter.”
“What did he want?” She moved out into the kitchen and made a face at the sinkful of dirty dishes. “You.”
“What did Bertha tell him?”
“That you’d gone down to move the agency car, that you’d left it in front of a fire plug.”
“How long after I left the office did Lisman come in?”
“Probably not over ten minutes.”
“What did Lisman do?” Elsie turned on the hot water in the sink, turned to say something to me, and caught sight of the pyjamas on the back of the chair. She left the water running in the sink, grabbed up the pyjamas, hung them in the closet, started back toward the sink, saw the socks and panties on the line in the bathroom, made a dive for the door, then stopped, and burst out laughing. “Well, at least you won’t have any illusions left.”
“What did Lisman do?” I asked.
“He called Bertha a clumsy liar, then went down and found the agency car actually parked in front of a fire plug. That bothered him. Your hat was in the office. He thought perhaps something had happened to you after you’d left the office and before you got to the car.”
“He didn’t talk with the attendant on the parking lot, did he?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did he question you?”
“I’ll say.”
“What did you tell him?”
“That you’d been in and gone out.”
“Did he ask if I’d talked with you?”
“Certainly.”
“What did you tell him?”
“Told him you were telling me a story.” I grinned. “What was the story?” She said, “Aren’t men funny? That was exactly what Lieutenant Lisman wanted to know.”
“What did you tell him?”
“I told him I didn’t know him that well.”
“What did he say?”
“Oh, I’ve forgotten the exact words, but it changed the subject of conversation very nicely. He told me an officer can really show a girl a swell time because people always put themselves out to be nice to a police officer.”
“What did you say to that?”
“I asked him if the girls were supposed to do that, too.”
“What did he say?” She spilled soap powder into the dishpan, churned it up into a creamy froth, flashed me a glance, over her right shoulder, and said, “What do you think? Are you going to wipe dishes for me?”
“Uh huh.”
“The towel’s over on the hanger behind the stove. I’d never make anyone a good wife. I hate housework.”
“So do I.”
“A man’s supposed to hate it. It’s a sign of something when a woman does.”
“But you do?”
“Definitely. That’s why I’m working.” She plunged dishes into the hot suds, dabbed at them with the dish mop, fished out a plate, and handed it to me. “Don’t you rinse them?” I asked.
She said, “I don’t.”
“What’s this on there?”
“That is egg yolk,” she said. “It’s hardened, coagulated, oxidized, or whatever the hell you want to call it. Here, give it back to me. Let’s let the thing soak for half an hour. How about a drink?” I said, “It’s illuminating to get the low-down on a girl’s character. When I first came to the office you wouldn’t even look up from your keyboard when I came in. You were as aloof as a politician the first year after election. I thought you were a self-contained woman who simply adored prowling around your apartment with a dust cloth wrapped around your forefinger, dabbing at little specks of dirt, and burnishing everything until it shone.” She said, “I told you I hate housework, and I never mix business with pleasure.”
“Meaning me?”
“Meaning you.”
“Got anything to drink in the place?”
“I think there’s a little Scotch left.”
“How about going down and buying some?”
“We can beat that. There’s a liquor store in the block. They’ll send it up.” I said, “I’ve got some money.” She went to the telephone, picked up the receiver, and said, “Hello, Doris. How’s everything tonight? … Oh, so-so… . Beastly…. I’ll say—how about getting me the liquor store? … Okay, I will.” She hung on to the line for a moment, then said, “Hello, this is Elsie Brand. How are you tonight? … I’m swell… . Uh huh—how’s for a bottle of House of Lords and a bottle of cocktails?” She placed her hand over the transmitter, turned to me, and asked, “Martinis or Manhattans?”
“Martinis.” She said into the telephone, “A bottle of House of Lords, a club dry Martini. Put in three bottles of White Rock, and be sure it’s cold, will you, Bert? That’s a good egg. Send Eddie right up with them—will you? Okay, thanks.” She hung up the telephone, turned and surveyed the bed. “Where are you going to sleep?” she asked.
I said, “That’s an interesting question. Where am I going to sleep?”
“That’s no reason I shouldn’t make up the bed. Give me a hand with the sheet on that side. Not too hard. You’re pulling it loose at the bottom. Now the blanket. Where’s the jewellery?”
“In your top bureau drawer.”
“How nice!”
“Isn’t it?”
“Think the police will pay me a visit?”
“I doubt it. The car in front of the fire plug will give them something to think about.” She sat down. “Donald, is there anything else? Is it just over that jewellery? I had an idea, from the way police activity picked up around the office this afternoon, there might have been something else.”
“There is.”
“How about telling me?”
“There’s so darn much I wouldn’t know where to begin.”
“Is that a stall?”
“Uh huh.”
“Why? Don’t you want me to know?”
“It’s better if you didn’t.” Why.
“Because you’re just a stenographer who knows nothing of what goes on in the private offices. You thought Lisman wanted me just as clients want me. You came home and found me in your apartment. I kidded you along and told you I’d dropped in just a few minutes before you got here, that I wanted to talk to you. I told you I’d buy a drink. You kept asking me how I’d got in, and I’d insisted I’d found the door open. You thought perhaps I’d had a passkey, but I bought you a drink and you asked me about the police. I told you that I’d seen Lieutenant Lisman and had just left his office, that the reason I came up here was because I wanted to dictate some letters that could go out early in the morning, that as soon as I dictated the letters I was on my way.” She thought that over and said, “I might make that stick.” A knock sounded on the door. She said, “Here’s the booze, Donald. Give me some money.” I handed her a ten-dollar bill. She opened the door about eighteen inches, held her foot against it to keep it from opening any further, shoved out the ten-dollar bill, and said, “Hello, Eddie. How much?” He handed her two paper bags, said, “Six twenty, including the tax.” I heard the rustle of currency, the clink of coins, and then he said, “Thanks a lot, Miss Brand.” Elsie closed the door, and I took the two paper bags out to the kitchen.
Elsie got ice cubes out of the refrigerator, said: “I suppose I’m going to be a martyr and cook dinner.”
“Who’s going to be a martyr?” She laughed and said, “I got the shoe on the wrong foot. You are.
”
“We could open a can of beans.”
“That’d be swell,” Elsie said. “Just beans is all we need—if it suits you all right.”
“It suits me.” She got a cocktail shaker and said, “Hold out your glass.” I held out my glass. We sipped the cocktail, then had another. She said, “Well, I’ll go down and get the can of beans. We might have an avocado salad to go with it.”
“Swell.”
“And maybe brown bread? They have it canned. All you need to do is put it in boiling water for about twenty minutes. It melts in your mouth.”
“Suits me.” I took out my wallet, gave her another ten dollars.
“Are we eating on Bertha Cool?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“That’s fine. I know where there’s a place that specializes in homemade chocolate pies. They’re about an inch and a half thick, and just a creamy chocolate. We could get a half a chocolate pie and ”
“Sold,” I told her.
She put on her hat and was humming a little tune as she looked at herself in the mirror.
“How are you coming with the Devarest insurance business?”
“Pretty good.” She said, “That isn’t what Bertha Cool told me. Bertha said you’d pulled a boner.” I laughed.
“Didn’t you?”
“It depends on how you look at it.”
“Donald Lam, did you put that weight on the door so it acted that way?”
“No.”
“Who did?”
“Someone who wanted my experiment to be a success.”
“I don’t get you.” I said, “The door hinges on a pivot. There is, however, one critical place at which the door will be perfectly balanced. A strong gust of wind would upset that balance and blow it open or shut. That point of balance normally is when the door is only about four feet off the ground. Dr. Devarest couldn’t have driven his car in. Someone tampered with the point of balance so it would be just high enough so that a car could squeeze under it. The person who did that hoped the wind would close the garage door from that point. It was a bum guess.”
“And you knew that when the tests were being made?”
“I suspected it.” She said, “I guess Bertha’s right. You’re a funny cuss. You certainly play them close to your chest. Well, I’m going out and get our dinner. Anything else you want?”
“No, that’s plenty.” She went out, was gone twenty minutes, came back with two market bags full of packages.
“Gosh, Donald, things looked so good down in the store. Do you know what I got?” She said, “We’re going to have the beans all right, and the brown bread, and the salad.”
“And the chocolate pie?” I asked.
“And the chocolate pie, but in addition to that, I got a swell tenderloin steak about two inches thick, and some ale ”
“Did you get the ale?”
“Uh huh, and some potato chips and a can of asparagus and a loaf of sourdough French bread. We’ll cut that right down the middle and put it in the broiler alongside the steak until it ”
“You’d better get started,” I told her.
“I am getting started.” She went out in the little kitchenette and dumped her bundles down on the drainboard of the sink.
“What can I do?” I asked.
“Not a thing. It’s too cramped in here for two people to work. I’ll have things going in just a jiffy.” I could hear her bustling around in the kitchen, and, after a few minutes, the smell of broiling steak caressed my palate.
“How about another cocktail?” Elsie Brand called from the kitchenette.
“How long before we eat?”
“About five minutes. Tell you what let’s do, Donald. Let’s have a quick cocktail, and then you can set the table.” We had our cocktail. Elsie got up and started for the kitchen. The telephone rang. She called over her shoulder, “Get that, will you, Donald?”
“I’d better not.”
“That’s right. I’ll see who it is. You take a look at the steak.” She picked up the telephone, said, “Hello…. Yes… . Who? … Oh, my God!” She slammed the telephone receiver back, and said to me, “That’s the desk. They just telephoned that Bertha Cool was on her way up here.” I stood perfectly still for a moment.
Elsie Brand said, in a panic, “No, you don’t, Donald. Don’t you see? She’ll remember about my raise, and then when she comes and finds me cooking dinner for you in my apartment Get in that closet, close the door, and stay there.” I still hesitated.
“You can’t put me on a spot, Donald. Hurry up. Here she is now.” Knuckles tapped heavily on the door.
I slipped in the closet. Elsie Brand closed the door, and I heard her call, “Who is it?” Bertha said, “It’s me.” I heard the sound of the outer door being unlocked and opened; then Bertha Cool, giving an audible sniff and saying, “Just cooking dinner?”
“Just broiling a steak.”
“Go right ahead, dearie. I’ll come out in the kitchen and talk with you.”
“No, you won’t,” Elsie said, laughing. “That kitchen is hardly big enough to hold me. The steak’s just at the crucial moment. You sit down right here and have a cigarette. I’ll shut off the fire. Perhaps things will wait, or—or—” Her voice trailed off into dubious, uncordial silence.
Bertha Cool said, “Go right ahead. That cooking smells good. I’m hungry.”
“Or I was going to suggest that if you hadn’t had dinner ”
“Well, go ahead and suggest it. What’s stopping you?” Elsie laughed and said, “There’s just a little more cocktail.”
“It’s nice that you can afford cocktails whenever you want them.” Bertha said pointedly. “Where is it?”
“I’ll get it.” There was silence for a moment, then the sound of the oven door opening, and the odour of broiled steak was suddenly intensified. I heard Bertha moving around, then her voice saying, “You certainly got a golden brown on that French bread. No, don’t put any butter on mine. Well—well, after all, I suppose this is really a special occasion and a diet shouldn’t be taken too seriously.” Elsie said, “Just a moment. I’ll get some things on the table.”
“Where are the dishes? I’ll help.”
“You wouldn’t know where things are, Mrs. Cool. Just sit down and relax.” I heard Elsie Brand’s quick steps coming and going. She was all but running. I could hear plates clatter on the table. Bertha said, “Fry me for an oyster!”
“What’s the matter?” Elsie Brand asked.
“A steak that size when you’re eating alone.” Elsie Brand said quickly. “There’s not much fun in cooking when you’re all by yourself, so I usually get a big steak, have it hot the first night, have cold steak the second night, and make hash the third night.” Bertha sniffed at that. I guess she didn’t like cold steak.
“Don’t ever eat too much,” Bertha said. “I used to let myself go, and I got altogether too fat. That illness was the best thing that ever happened to me. I feel ever so much better now.”
“Yes, you look better. Was there something you wanted—something particular you had in mind?” Bertha said, “Where’s Donald?”
“Why, when he left the office—you know he said something about his car in front of the fire plug, and then ”
“He hasn’t been here?”
“Why, Mrs. Cool, what on earth would he want to come here for?”
“Well, he’s some place, and I simply have to find him before the police get hold of him.”
“What’s the matter?”
“He certainly got the agency in Dutch. They’re talking about revoking our licence.”
“Why, isn’t that too bad?”
“Too bad!” Bertha exclaimed, and then choked up with feeling.
“I’m sorry,” Elsie Brand said.
Bertha said, “You only have butter on half the steak.”
“I thought perhaps you preferred yours without.”
“Oh, go ahead,” Bertha said. “I’m too nervous to diet tonight.” I h
eard the scrape of chairs, the sound of knives and forks. Standing there in the closet, the pangs of hunger were as acute as the pain of toothache. Listening, I could tell exactly what was going on. That would be Elsie cutting the steak now. She was putting a juicy, steaming piece on Bertha Cool’s plate.
“Some asparagus tips?” she asked.
“Please,” Bertha said.
“And you’ll try some of this avocado salad?”
“Certainly. And plenty of potato chips.”
“Pull off a piece of that French bread—but look out. It’s hot.” I heard Elsie laugh, heard the scrape of the plate against another plate.
And then knuckles pounded on the door.
“Now what?” Bertha asked.
“I don’t know,” Elsie said, and then added with a flash of inspiration, “You don’t suppose that’s Donald, do you?”
“It may be.” Elsie Brand called through the door, “Who is it, please?”
“Never mind stalling around. Open up.” I knew that voice. It was Lieutenant Lisman.
Elsie Brand opened the door.
Double or Quits Page 16
