The Bamboo Blonde

by Dorothy B. Hughes

  She said, hoping it sounded casual, "I forgot a call I put in. Hollywood business. I'll have to get back."

  "You can switch it here," Kew suggested.

  "It's private." She didn't apologize for bluntness.

  Dare too was blunt. "You'd better stick around. Thusby wants to see you too." She softened it. "He said for us to stay together until he—that's probably he now." She answered the buzzer.

  Kathie returned, her crumpled dress smoothed a little. "Is that the police?"

  Kew took her to the couch beside him. "Don't be nervous about Thusby, Kathie. Griselda probably has the answer, but if Walker is missing, you can help out by giving full information."

  She smiled at him. "I'll be good."

  The captain eased down as if the low white-leather chair were a bear trap. "What's this important information you have, ma'am?"

  Dare spoke. "Admiral Swales took Major Pembrooke to San Diego today. Mrs. Satterlee thought Walker Travis might be with them."

  "What made you allow that, it you don't mind saying?"

  Griselda explained her reasoning, realizing too well that she was wrong. All of them were telling her so, all but Kathie who didn't seem to care now that Kew was here.

  Thusby nodded, raised his voice, "Mrs. Travis, your husband say anything about San Diego?"

  "No, he didn't." She wasn't interested in this old man. "But he never tells me what he's doing."

  "Mrs. Travis." He was determined to have her serious attention, although fearful of her turning on the hysteria again. He tried for a medium between cajoling and commanding. "Did he say anything at all about his plans for the day?"

  Wide-eyed she said, "No, he never tells me."

  He was helpless, shaking his white fuzz.

  Kew took over. "Kathie, you were going to tell me all about it. From the time Walker surprised you yesterday. Why don't you? It might help Captain Thusby out." He nodded aside to the subsiding officer, urged, "Start in, Kathie."

  She told it with that dreadful sweet naiveté that made Dare's nostrils quiver. "It was about dinnertime when he came. I didn't expect him but he said he had some business on shore. We had dinner in our room because he wanted to. That's when I called you that we wouldn't join you, Kew. He didn't want to go out. And then after dinner—we had such a nice dinner, everything he liked, steak and cabbage and chocolate ice cream—" She didn't even notice the resistant faces. "Then he wanted to run down to our house, see if everything was all right."

  "Your house?" Thusby asked.

  "Yes. We have a cottage at Huntington Beach. But I've had to stay on at the hotel because you said not to leave town—after Shelley's death, you know—"

  It hadn't occurred to Griselda to be curious before about the lieutenant's wife living at a major hotel. She was certain, that Thusby's order, however, hadn't been a hardship on Kathie; she would have made another excuse to stay in town with Kew if this one had not arisen.

  "We don't have a car but a friend of ours keeps his in a garage on Pine. He lets us use it. He's away with the fleet. I went for the car."

  "You took it out?"

  "Yes. Walker wanted to telephone. I don't know who. He stopped in the drugstore. I went for the car and I picked him up and we drove to Huntington Beach." She looked at Kew. "We stayed there all evening. It was such a beautiful night. We just did about everything the way we used to—" She swallowed hard.

  "Used to before what?" Captain Thusby's eyes had leaped.

  Kew took her hand. Her eyes were misty. "Before Mannie disappeared. It's changed Walker so dreadfully. We used to have fun but now—" Her voice quavered. "You don't think anything's happened to him, do you? He hasn't been himself at all lately." She pleaded for the right answer.

  "Probably in San Diego," Thusby grunted without assurance, "You took the car back to the garage?"

  "Yes. Walker still wanted to reach whoever it was. I let him off at a drugstore; it was just before midnight. I parked the car and walked back to the hotel."

  "Alone?" Dare asked.

  "I'm used to it." She was as sweet as Dare wasn't. "I knew he was anxious about something. I was in bed when he came in. He hadn't had any luck, he said. This morning he was gone when I woke. I thought he'd gone back to the ship just the way he always did. Then when he"—she just glanced at Thusby—"came this afternoon. I was frightened, Kew. I was afraid something awful had happened to Walker. So many dreadful things have happened lately."

  Kew said, "You needn't worry. Nothing's happened."

  "No, nothing's happened," Thusby agreed. "Nothing we know about. Maybe I've been worried for nothing. Like as not he'll turn up with the admiral tonight. It's like Mrs. Travis says, so many things happening, you get to seeing shadows." He took his cap, struggled up from the chair.

  Griselda let out her breath and then she caught it tightly again. He hadn't forgotten her.

  "Now, Mrs. Satterlee, what's this about Lieutenant Travis calling on you?"

  "Not on me," she rejected. "He came to see Con. He'd had a message telling him, he said. But Con wasn't there."

  "He leave any word with you?"

  "Only that he'd be in town today if I could tell Con." She looked stonily at him. "But I don't know where Con is or how to reach him." Deliberated she asked Dare, "You haven't heard from him, have you?"

  Dare lied flatly, "No."

  Thusby grunted. "If you hear from either of them, call me." He stumped away.

  Griselda didn't hate him any more, now that he didn't have Con locked up where he could railroad him for murder. She felt safe in fact only in his reassuring presence. He was the one person in the whole set that she could be certain represented just what he appeared to be, an old dog with no new tricks.

  Dare said, "We'll have a drink all around before you go."

  Kathie was doleful, her fingers itching at Kew's coat sleeve. "I just can't bear to be alone. I hate hotels; you're so alone in them. And now not knowing where Walker is. I'm so worried. I don't know what to do." She looked helplessly at Kew. "If Walker is missing, I haven't hardly any money. He never gives me any. He makes enough but he takes care of his mother and sister and all his relatives besides. I can't stay on at the hotel running up bills—"

  Kew did not rise to the bait.

  Kathie's eyes saw every luxury of Dare's apartment. "If there were only somewhere in Long Beach that I could stay."

  It was an obvious bid and surprisingly Dare accepted it. "I have an extra room. You can stay here for a few days."

  Kathie demurred; Kathie protested, but she would stay.

  Kew said, "If it's settled, I'll run you down to the Hilton, Kathie, and we'll gather up your things. After that what about dinner for all of us?"

  Kathie was delighted. "Let's dress up, go to the Sky Room."

  "Forget our woes," Dare said in disgust.

  Griselda refused. "I've that business call. I'd rather be home under the circumstances."

  Kew told her, "I won't stay late. You won't be afraid until I get there?"

  Kathie looked from him to Griselda. The icing was scraped away showing almost animal hate beneath.

  Griselda said quickly, "You needn't come, Kew."

  He told her definitely, "I'll be out."

  She didn't look at Kathie again. She refused his offer for a lift, waited until they had left before calling a cab. She stated, "Three's proverbial."

  Dare was watching from the front window. She turned. "I don't wonder you're dodging tonight. I would if I could. But we both can't desert Kew in his hour of need." To herself she added, "That woman is determined to have him."

  Griselda agreed. "You might tip her off that I'm not a rival." She laughed. "I don't like the way she claws at me."

  Dare was frowning. "You mean she thinks you want Kew?"

  "Didn't you notice?"

  "No." She held the frown. "Wouldn't you think Kew would explain to her?" The cab sounded below.

  "I will tell her, Griselda. I don't want her thinking that. If you
can stand it, join us later. Four is less a crowd."

  Griselda shook her head. "Sorry. Doesn't interest me."

  She went down, directed the driver. But she changed directions on the main street of Belmont, paid him off. She must have the papers, see what they were saying about Travis and Con. It was but a few blocks to the cottage and still twilight. The major wasn't in town. She crossed to a sandwich shop, and while she waited for the steaks to broil, sat on the twirling counter stool, watching the green and gold neon sign of the Bamboo Bar cater-corner across. It would be so nice if she could go over and pick up Con from his accustomed haunt inside.

  Her newspapers under arm, the paper sack of sandwiches in hand, she walked on past the firehouse, crossed again to stroll along the bay front toward the cottage. She didn't want to get there. This early evening peace was better if only she had Con, and no one else, to share it. The yellow light coming slowly out of the sea might be truly a honey moon.

  Imagination. Banal imagination. But it wasn't imagination, peering ahead, that her garage doors were open and the wrecky motor gone. Con had been here! She ran then, stumbling across the tracks by instinct, not looking for the trolley, stopped there in front of the empty garage.

  There had been no need for haste; if the car was gone, so was he. And then she heard it, no other motor sounded that much like an amateur on the trap drums. She swirled, began waving high her arm, there on the curb. The wreck was scrambling slowly down the street as if it had been parked above waiting for her to appear.

  "Con, Con—" She forgot his defections in her greed to see him. "Oh, Con—" But peering out as she peered in was no Con. Chang's face was ugly as well as blank and she drew up stiffly, clutching the news and the brown-paper sack.

  He croaked, "Con sent me after, you, Mrs. Satterlee."

  "Kind of him." He wouldn't come himself; he'd go to Dare's but he'd send his second-story man for her. She wondered if this were the truth as Chang's other incredible lies had been. She didn't want to disappear. She didn't want to fall into Albert George's hands. If she could only leave word for Kew, but the car was waiting impatiently, the engine coughing.

  She stepped hack warily as Chang leaned across to fumble with the door. He stated, "Con don't have much time, Mrs. Satterlee. We'll have to hurry if you're going to see him."

  She decided. With even the faintest possibility offered of seeing Con, she would risk it. Without words, she climbed in beside him. The car continued east toward Seal Beach. It had been ridiculous to suspect Chang; he was driving their own car; Con must have had another set of keys to give him.

  She asked no questions. But night was closing in rapidly. When he drew off the road at a lonely, fog-ridden curve, her jumpiness impelled speech. "What's the matter?"

  He didn't look at her. "I wonder, Mrs. Satterlee, would you mind being blindfolded the rest of the way?"

  She drew away. "I most certainly would," she stated.

  He said, "Con don't want anyone to knew where he's hiding out at. He told me to ask you."

  She had her hand on the door catch. She knew how it had to be wrestled with but she hoped she could bluff him; certainly he couldn't remember all the vagaries of the chassis. She said, "I don't believe a word of it. Con wouldn't ask me to go in for such hocus-pocus."

  His face had expression enough now. His jaw was set. He declared, "Con said to bring you to him and not let you know the way." He took her arms, pulled them behind her.

  She heard the clink of steel before she realized that the sound meant the fastening of handcuffs. She opened her mouth for a futile scream. There were no cars in sight; those that would pass would speed up, not hesitate, at screaming; only the thousand-to-one chance that a radio patrol would be cruising near would bring help. While she hesitated, he was grousing, "When Con says something to me it's orders." She did let out a faint sound as the sleep mask covered her eyes. The car had started again with Chang muttering furiously, "It's orders, that's what it is." They were going at rapid speed; they curved and turned and curved again. When they stopped she would run for it; she wouldn't let herself be delivered helpless into Albert George's hands. At least she would try to save herself.

  But the car didn't stop in the open. She sensed the move under cover, probably a garage, and she heard the doors clang behind them before he cut the motor.

  He told her, "Slide out, Mrs. Satterlee, and up this way." His voice wasn't obsequious now.

  With her feet on the floor, she balked. "I'm not going any further. Let me out of here."

  He made no pretense of courtesy. "Mrs. Satterlee, you're walking up them steps if I have to drag you. Now get going."

  He propelled her, up, up, up. She was more angry than frightened, feeling her way step by step, his heavy breathing beside her. He opened a door and she saw light under the mask. "Sit there," he said.

  Her head was swirling as his footsteps receded. She sat there, feeling the overstuffed chair under her; sat there trembling now, waiting for door sounds, for more footsteps, for that voice.

  CHAPTER 8

  THE voice wasn't stone; it was almost gurgling. "Why don't you take off those fool things?"

  A hand lifted the mask, Con's hand, Con standing there, laughing down at her. Con. Fury shook her. Con having the nerve after all this to leave her handcuffed while he draped himself over the opposite chair and began eating one of her steak sandwiches. She had no words.

  He said, "All you have to do is press that little jigger by the wrist and off they come. They're Junior G-man's. Bought them for a dime at Woolworth's."

  She felt the scarcely hidden clasp with her thumb. In unbroken silence she dropped them indignantly. They clinked.

  "Hungry? How about a sandwich?" He held out her own sack.

  She was starving but not nearly enough to accept her food from him.

  "No?" He unwrapped the other one. "They're pretty good."

  She encased her words in ice as she uttered them. "Will you kindly tell me the meaning of this childish mumbo-jumbo?"

  "Didn't Chang explain?"

  She hadn't heard him come in. "I tried to, Con, honest, but she wasn't buying any. I'm afraid I lost my temper, Mrs. Satterlee, but when Con gives orders, they're my orders."

  Con said, "That's all right, Chang. Keep an eye on the street, will you?"

  He nodded. "Sure, Con." He went out.

  Con asked, "Smoke?" He held out his usual disreputable package. She refused,

  "Who slugged you?"

  She touched her cheek. "I fell—"

  "Yeah. I know that one. You charged a doorknob." He scowled. "Did Chang—"

  "No, not Chang," she reassured him.

  "Kew?"

  She laughed out loud. "No."

  "Who was it?" He advanced on her.

  She said quickly, "It was Major Pembrooke." She hadn't meant to speak but anyone's sudden motion at her, even Con's, had power to startle now. Her nerves were that shaky.

  Con said almost with deadly calmness, "I'll take care of Albert George for that."

  She cried in sudden terror. "You mustn't! You mustn't! He's dangerous, terribly so. You mustn't do anything to him!"

  He set his chin. "He's not as tough as he thinks."

  "You mustn't!" she reiterated. She repeated Kew's warning. "He's after you. Con. He will kill you."

  "Why did he sock you?"

  "Because I wouldn't give him the envelope Walker Travis brought for you."

  "My God, didn't you see Chang take that one?" She stared at him. A ruse. Chang picking up the envelope. Sleight-of-hand. And she'd been taken in as she was supposed to be.

  "Did you think I was risking that falling into Albert George's hands? Chang trailed Walker from the time he left Navy Landing until he passed over that envelope to you."

  "Chang is working for you."

  "Didn't you ever catch on to that?" Why didn't he put his arms around her instead of sitting over there asking foolish questions? He pretended to love her; she'd married him again
because she'd believed he was as crazy about her as she about him. Yet after this tense separation he could loll around chewing on a steak sandwich as if it were the most important thing on earth.

  She reminded him frigidly, "You forget. You haven't been particularly garrulous about what's trashing all around me."

  "That's out now," he cut in. "You didn't stay clear. And I need some help."

  "That Dare and Chang can't give?" She spoke with scorn.

  "That's right. But why drag her in?" She retorted, "Perhaps because she has the privilege of seeing you without being bound and gagged in the process."

  "Now what are you referring to?"

  "I haven't seen your pajamas in my closet recently."

  He had the grace to look embarrassed. "You weren't supposed to snoop around her place."

  "Snoop!" She'd like to Albert George him. "They were in plain sight. Where you usually hang them. Where were you? Under the bed? Or sneaking down the fire escape?"

  He didn't like "sneak" any better than she did "snoop." "I used the fire escape, yes. when you barged in unexpectedly. I didn't know it was you."

  "I'm certain it was unexpected. I don't see how you dressed so quickly. She hadn't time to do more than wrap a negligee and pretend she was going to the beach."

  He was beginning to answer her anger in kind. His eyes were kindling. "You can't talk. You certainly moved your boy friend in fast enough."

  "You're making a mistake," she stated.

  "Yeah? He goes in before dinner and comes out the next noon. Not to stay. No indeed, just to go pack a bag and come in again. While you're making yourself swell all over town in his Lahdedoosenberg."

  He couldn't really believe his insinuations. "You must have efficient spies. I can only tell you they aren't efficient enough. If they were they'd get facts, not suggestion of facts. Kew believes I need protection."

  He shut his teeth together. "Does he think I'd be fool enough to leave you unprotected? Chang's been on you since I left." He scowled at her. "He wasn't gone five minutes with that envelope and if I'd known Albert George was in the neighborhood I'd have come for it myself."