Blondes are Skin Deep

by Louis Trimble

  “And Peone was on duty at six?”

  She smiled, shaking her head. “I doubt if he even knows about it yet.”

  “Quist does. Chimp does.”

  “Quist was sleeping,” she said. “And Chimp was on duty in the lobby.”

  I let it go. “Were you out as long as you expected?” I asked.

  “Not quite,” Tien said. “I usually get back around six-thirty from collecting. Last night I was ten or fifteen minutes early.”

  I said, “Anyone who knew the routine here would naturally pick that time to make a play for Kane.”

  “We thought of that,” Tien said.

  In the elevator, I did some thinking, too. There was something I had forgotten. When I put my hand in my pocket it closed over the key Quist had slipped to me.

  I felt as if I had a live hand grenade in my fist. And I couldn’t quite see Peone letting me slip it back into the desk drawer.

  14

  IT WAS a cute trick and I felt proud of myself. I just hoped it would work.

  I left the elevator at the sixth floor and walked down the back stairs to Edna Loomis’ floor and to her room. I took a quick look inside. Nothing had been disturbed. Obviously no maid had yet been in to clean it up, which could mean that she had checked out without notifying anyone.

  I put the master key in the lock of her door, on the outside, and left it there. Now, at least, there was a chance of not involving Quist and Johnny and even myself in something that could have nasty repercussions.

  I hiked back to six, puffing like an asthmatic old man, and rode down to the lobby. I went right to Chimp.

  “I want some help,” I said.

  Chimp was gnawing his cigar. Even unlit, it stunk. “Hall gave the okay,” he said. He didn’t sound as if he thought it very bright of Hall. “Go ahead.”

  “Did Edna Loomis check out?”

  We walked to the desk. Chimp took the ledger and handed it to me. There was no check-out for her.

  “I want a pass key,” I said. “She’s played hide and seek too long.”

  Chimp nodded to Peone. I watched with interest as Peone unlocked the cash drawer and lifted out the change compartment. He put his hand in the space beneath it. Obviously enough, he knew where the key was kept.

  His hand came up empty. He looked at Chimp. Chimp gnawed on his cigar. “Maybe the cops took it,” he said.

  “I can’t wait for them to give it back,” I told him. “Isn’t there any other way to get into her room?”

  Chimp looked at me as Tien had, with faint surprise that anyone who had been around the place as long as I should be so stupid. “Sure,” he said, “there’s a duplicate room key to the one she has.”

  Peone got it from the rack and gave it to Chimp. In silence we walked to the elevator and rode up to five. Halfway down the hall, I said, “Does Peone ever use a gun?”

  “He’s scared of them. He’s worse than Quist about it.” He grunted a little. “Thinking about Kane being shot?”

  “I might have been,” I said.

  “Peone was at the desk,” Chimp said. “I can vouch for that.”

  We were nearly to Edna Loomis’ door. I said, “Who can vouch for you?”

  Chimp stopped, turned, and looked quizzically at me. “Me,” he said. “Me and Peone.”

  “Maybe you’re like a gun to Peone,” I said. “He’s scared of you.”

  “He’s scared of a lot of things,” Chimp said. “But I’m not one of them.”

  “So am I,” I said. “But you aren’t one of them.”

  Chimp was still looking at me. His face creased up in something meant to be a smile. “I had my orders, Nick.

  “Next time,” I said. “I’ll be watching for it.”

  “I can handle you,” Chimp said. “You don’t worry me.”

  “I’m glad of that,” I said. “I don’t like to be underestimated.”

  Chimp grinned again and turned toward the door of five-twelve. He had the key in his hand and got it halfway to the lock when he slowed and stopped. I heard a grunt come out of him.

  “Now isn’t that nice,” he said in his soft voice.

  I looked and exclaimed, “Is that the pass key?”

  “It’s nobody else’s fanny,” Chimp said.

  “Maybe the maid left it,” I suggested.

  “The maid doesn’t have a key. When she comes to work she gets the duplicate keys off the board. There are a lot of people here who don’t like maid service all the time. We don’t break in on anyone’s privacy, Nick.”

  “An interesting dissertation,” I said, “but let’s get at what we started.”

  Chimp unlocked the door and pocketed both keys. We went in. I did some more exclaiming over the emptiness of the room. Chimp said, “Her rent’s paid ahead, but Quist should have checked her out.” He didn’t sound much concerned.

  “Maybe she went down the fire escape.”

  “That blond?” Chimp demanded. “She could have blown a kiss at Quist and walked out while he was coming to.” He sniffed the air that was still faint with Edna Loomis’ perfume.

  I sniffed too. Chimp grinned at me. “Where’d she take you yesterday?”

  “Out in the brush,” I said. “She left me there, too.”

  “You haven’t got what it takes,” Chimp said.

  We left the room, locking the door carefully, and returned to the lobby. Chimp handed both keys to Peone who put them in their respective places.

  I said, “I don’t suppose anyone came in about six last night.”

  “Nobody,” Chimp said. “No one gunning for Kane Hall got by me, Nick.”

  I had to agree to that. No one coming through the lobby would get by Chimp. That was one of the reasons Kane Hall paid him such a fat salary.

  I left. My car was where I had parked it the day before, and there was a ticket on the windshield. I pocketed it, got in, and drove home. The apartment had an empty feeling when I let myself in.

  Nelle was gone. I checked the bedroom. Some of her dresses were missing from the closet. Most of her stuff was there but enough had disappeared to tell me that she had decided to take a trip.

  I thought about Nelle admitting Johnny had contacted her. Then I added it to her being gone. And to Edna Loomis having checked out secretly from the hotel.

  I decided to take a trip myself.

  Portland was enjoying clear evening twilight when I left the plane. I went directly to the hotel, sprawled out on the bed, and put in a call to Edna Loomis. It was the first of a series of routine moves I had planned on the way down. Edna Loomis’ husky voice broke into the third sharp ring of her phone.

  I said, “Mercer talking. Remember me?”

  “Uh-m, yes.” Noncommittal. “We never did have that dinner date,” I said.

  “You weren’t in any shape to eat.”

  “I am now,” I said. I felt good all of a sudden. I had that sensation I got when something was about to happen. “I’m in fine shape.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “Sorry that I have a dinner date, I mean.”

  I stayed silent a moment and then said, “With Johnny?”

  “You are in good shape,” she mocked me. “Maybe after my engagement …”

  “Set the time,” I said.

  “At nine.”

  “Where?”

  “You don’t have to bite my head off, Mr. Mercer.”

  “I’m disappointed,” I said. “But I guess I can stand it until nine.”

  Her laughter was warm and promising. “Come here then,” she said.

  “On the dot,” I assured her, and hung up. I lay back, smoking, and wondering if it hadn’t been just a little too easy. I remembered again her phone conversation with Johnny. It might be that she hoped now to get the information she had failed to get before. Or had she failed to get it? I knew I had been unconscious, but how much so was something else again. I may have talked a steady streak to her while in the park.

  Something in my stomach stirred and I decided
that I was hungry. Getting up, I changed my suit and went down to the dining room. I was halfway to a table when it hit me that it might be better for me to postpone eating until later. I went outside and crawled into a taxi. I gave the driver as an address the corner nearest Edna Loomis’ apartment house.

  Her presence here interested me. Her presence and possibly Johnny’s and Nelle’s. It was practically a convention. All we needed now were Chimp, Peone, and Lieutenant Powers and the roll call would be nearly complete.

  It was a nice problem and I was absorbed in it until the cab let me off at the corner. When it had rolled out of sight I walked briskly to a point opposite the house. It was growing dark fast now and there were lights on in a number of apartments. I spotted a series of them in the top apartment on the northeast corner. If I remembered correctly, that would be Edna Loomis'.

  Twice a figure passed between the windows and the lights. I wished for a pair of field glasses. I had shifted to a slightly better position when headlights came around the corner, touched me briefly, and crawled on by. The speed told me that it was a prowl car. I got out a cigaret, lit a match, and bent my head toward it. I glanced up casually, tossing the match aside as the car came abreast. Both cops in it were looking at me. I just stood, watching them incuriously, and they coasted on past with only the barest perceptible hesitation.

  I knew it wouldn’t look good to be there when they came around again.

  It was seven-thirty by my watch when all but one light went out in Edna Loomis’ apartment. Two cars had gone by during my wait but neither had slowed down. Now a third one came around the corner to the left. I turned and started walking.

  It was the prowl car again; they had returned too fast to be merely a routine patrol. I was a little late remembering that Edna Loomis might still be under surveillance. The cops drew alongside me, and stopped. I swore under my breath.

  “Looking for something?”

  “Date,” I said briefly. We were almost directly in front of the apartment house doorway. I tried to keep an eye on the entrance without appearing to do so. “A blind date,” I told them. “Maybe I got stood up.” I looked at my watch and mentioned that my date was over a half hour late.

  One cop said, “This is a hell of a neighborhood to find a blind date.”

  “That’s what worries me,” I said. I could hear the deep roar of a powerful motor somewhere. Suddenly headlights shot sharply into the air as a car came from a garage beneath the apartment house.

  “Maybe that’s it,” I said, and peered around the prowl car.

  The oncoming automobile hesitated briefly as it leveled into the street. But it was already turned toward us so that when it started up again it swung wide and passed in front of the cops. The headlights of the prowl car caught it momentarily. I was staring frankly. I wished I hadn’t been.

  “Nope,” I said hurriedly. “That dame’s occupied. Anyway, she’s a blonde.”

  “You got good eyes,” one of the cops said dryly. “All I saw was dame.”

  “It’s a hobby of mine,” I said. There wasn’t any meaning at all to the statement but the cops laughed a little and the driver put the car into gear. I said, “To hell with it,” and started toward Burnside. They drifted off, picking up speed as they neared the corner. I Kept on walking, turned down Burnside, and aimed for town.

  I hoped they hadn’t seen as much as I had. But then they were probably still looking for a small, red-haired man, not a small, gray-haired one. Johnny Doane was a fool to come out in the open, even though his disguise was a good one.

  If he was going to ride around I thought, he should pick a less conspicuous car. Edna Loomis drove a fancy, very powerful rig with a lot of glass. There was practically no privacy at all, not even for the person in the rear seat. I knew that because I had seen Nelle sitting there.

  I got a little relief cursing all private detectives, including myself, and by the time I hit the bottom of the hill I felt better. There was a restuarant there and I went in, treating myself to a fancy dinner.

  When it was nearly nine I took another cab back up the hill. One walk was enough for a single evening. I was in the building lobby when I heard the deep-throated roar of a powerful car. I was beside the self-service elevator when it came up from the basement garage. My signal stopped it and I got in. I smiled at Edna Loomis and removed my hat. “Timed it on the nose,” I said.

  She looked even better than I remembered her. She wore a gold dinner dress that, like the negligee of gold, highlighted her blond hair. Her short fur cape was thrown open at the neck, revealing a good deal of shoulder and upper breast. Her perfume was exciting in the warm confines of the elevator. I almost wished she would have a reason to carry me again.

  She put her finger on the fifth floor button. “You are prompt.”

  “I was here hours ago,” I said.

  I dropped it casually, and caught a sharp glance. She looked away and then let her eyes come back to my face slowly. She was smiling. Her eyes were interested.

  “You don’t trust me, do you?”

  “I don’t like being left alone in a car—out in the woods.”

  “I could explain that,” she said. “If I had to.”

  She came very close to me, her smile widening, her eyes very interested now. Her perfume was heavy. Some of it came from her hair as it brushed across my lips. She stepped back, tilting her head, waiting.

  I kissed her. I enjoyed it and repeated the process. She was unreservedly responsive and didn’t move for some time after the elevator had stopped.

  “Do I have to explain it?” she murmured.

  I slid the doors open, doing it dexterously so that when my arm fell back it rested on her hip. She put a hand over mine, holding my fingers to her body. I could feel her muscles move as we walked down the hallway.

  I said, “No.” Right then, as far as I was concerned, she didn’t have to explain anything—ever. It was that damned perfume, I thought. I sniffed at it again, and kept my hand where it was.

  When we reached the door of her room she gave me her key and we went on in. There was one lamp lighted, a small table lamp set between two large windows, It gave me enough light to see the startling decor of her apartment. I had not been mistaken; it was the perfect background for her.

  I reached for the light switch and she caught my hand, tugging it down. I shrugged and she turned, freeing my other hand so that I could remove her cape. When I did so she made no move at all. I took the hint, bent, and ran my lips lightly over her bare shoulder. The way she smiled back at me said that I had done the right thing.

  I looked for a place to put the cape. I was beginning to be bothered now. The effect of the perfume was immunizing itself. This was getting to be more than I had come prepared to handle. I couldn’t very well say, “I’m in a hurry. I came for information so let’s get to it.” Not with a woman like this.

  “Drink?”

  I tossed the cape on the nearest chair and added my topcoat and hat to it. “Yes.” I watched her move in that model’s walk across the room. After a moment I followed. She was tipping a bottle of bonded rye over two glasses when I reached her. I put out a hand, took the bottle away and set it down. Putting two fingers alongside her chin I turned her face toward me. The kiss was even longer than the one in the elevator.

  She said, a little breathlessly, “You’re making an anticlimax out of the liquor.”

  Which was what I wanted to know. Experts had told me that I was like the Latins: a lousy lover. My sex appeal rating was usually equal to that of the Daily Worker.

  I said, “Am I really that interesting?”

  She studied me with her lower lip pushed out slightly. “Is that a crack?”

  “No. Just a question.”

  “Did you come here to ask questions?”

  I wondered if she thought I was that stupid; I knew that she wasn’t. “Among other things,” I said.

  “But not so early in the evening.”

  I smiled at her and p
icked up the bottle. I poured a little more rye in each glass. “No, not so early in the evening.”

  She stirred the drinks, handed one to me, and we clinked glasses. I sipped, nodded, and sipped again. It was definitely first class rye and first class mixing. We worked our way to a small love seat affair. It was built so that two people, unless they were abnormally small, were in amazingly close proximity. It was very nice.

  When my glass was empty she rose and took it. I was glad for my heavy dinner; it would provide a coating against the liquor.

  Neither of us had spoken. Coming back now, with a second round of drinks, she smiled at me, set down the glasses, and walked toward the front windows. She turned out the lamp.

  I could make her out vaguely in the diffused radiance that came from the city lighted up below. She wasn’t clear, just a slowly moving blur, but I could see her swaying walk.

  I heard the noise. I could see nothing but her and she was almost completely distracting. Still the noise was too definite, too much out of key with the warm quiet of the room. It was sharp, brief, and accidental. I twisted my head reluctantly away from watching Edna Loomis. I could see the bulk crouched in the foyer doorway.

  I came off the little couch, my legs kicking it backward out of position, my body low. I hit Edna Loomis around the knees and knocked her sideways so that she thumped hard against the carpeting. There was a hissing, sibilant sound that knotted my stomach, and a finger of hot iron ran along my leg.

  She was gasping, struggling for enough breath to curse me.

  I put my hand down my leg and my fingers closed over the hilt of a knife.

  I said, “Shut up!”

  15

  I MOVED quickly enough but I had no chance at all. Before I could untangle myself from Edna Loomis the front door was closing.

  I reached it in time to hear the elevator doors shutting. The indicator was on three before I got there. I put my finger on the signal button and heard a click far below. The elevator started up again. I stood to one side as it stopped, reached out cautiously, and opened the doors. I waited a brief breathing space, swung around and into the cage.