‘Donald Lam,’ I told him.
‘I want to talk with you,’ he said.
‘I wish you would,’ Sandra chimed in. ‘You know time’s precious. Morgan may leave the country any time.’
‘He won’t leave the country without me knowing it,’ Bleatie said. ‘Look here, Doctor, how about it? Are you finished?’
The young doctor cocked his head on one side as a sculptor might survey a finished masterpiece.
‘You’ll get by now,’ he said, ‘but no sudden exertion, nothing which will run up a quick blood pressure and start a hemorrhage. For three or four days take a mild laxative. Take your temperature every four hours. If you start running a fever, get in touch with me at once.’
‘All right,’ Bleatie said. ‘Get out, the whole outfit of you. I’ve got something to say to Lam. Go on, Sandra, and you too, Alma. Go have a drink. Beat it.’
They went out like a bunch of chickens being shooed out of a garden patch. Before the blast of that dominating personality, the doctor lost his paternal sick-room manner and scuttled out through the door along with the rest. When the door was closed, the green eyes turned once more to me. ‘Are you with a lawyer?’ he asked.
I had some difficulty understanding his conversation at first. He talked like a man with a clothespin clamped over his nose. ‘No,’ I said, ‘I’m with a bureau of investigation.’
‘How well do you know Sandra?’ There was suspicion in his eyes, a suspicion which, for the moment, I couldn’t understand.
‘I met her for the first time about five minutes ago.’
‘What do you know about her?’
‘Nothing except what Miss Hunter told me.’
‘What did she tell you?’
‘Nothing.’
‘She’s my sister,’ Bleatie said, ‘and I should stick up for her, but God knows she has her faults, and they’re a pretty important element in this whole mess. If you ask me, she’s given her husband a hell of a raw deal. She can’t be trusted around a man. She’s never happy unless she has half a dozen men on the string, playing one of them against the other. She’s married, but marriage doesn’t stop her a damn bit. She goes her own way, and does pretty much as she pleases.’
‘They all do these days,’ I said easily.
‘You seem to be rushing to her defense a little too eagerly considering that you’ve only known her a few minutes,’ he said.
I kept quiet.
‘You’re sure you’re not lying to me?’
‘I’m not accustomed to lie to anyone,’ I said, ‘and I don’t like to have people with broken noses accuse me of being a liar.’
He grinned then. I could see the cheek muscles twist and the eyes narrow. ‘Sort of taking an unfair advantage, is it?’ he asked.
‘Yes. You can’t hit a man with a busted nose.’
‘I don’t know why not,’ he said. ‘I wouldn’t hesitate.’
I looked into the cat-green eyes and said thoughtfully, ‘No, I don’t suppose you would.’
‘If a man’s nose is broken, that makes him all the more vulnerable. When I fight, I don’t spar for points. I fight to smash the other man, and the harder I can smash him, the better I like it. And you’re a little shrimp to have such a gamecock disposition.’
He’d have liked me to make some comment then. I didn’t make any.
‘So Sandra wants a divorce, does she?’ he said after a moment.
‘So I understand.’
‘Well, there’s a hell of a lot to be said on Morgan’s side of this thing. Has that ever occurred to you?’
‘I’m serving the papers,’ I said. ‘He’ll have a chance to tell his side of it in court.’
‘The hell he will!’ Bleatie said impatiently. ‘How the devil could he come into court? He’s a fugitive from justice. Hell, they’d rip him wide open. What’s all the big rush about? Why doesn’t Sandra serve him by publication?’
‘It would take too long,’ I said, ‘and you can’t collect alimony on a service by publication.’
‘She wants alimony?’ he asked, then added quickly, ‘Thought you said you weren’t a lawyer.’
‘I think you’ll have to ask her or her lawyer about the alimony,’ I said. ‘After all, I’m only hired to serve the papers.’
‘You have the papers there?’
‘Yes.’
‘Let’s see ‘em.’
I passed the papers over. He hunched around on the bed, said, ‘Put your hand behind my shoulders and give me a boost —there, that’s better—now get that pillow down—you probably think I’m a hell of a brother, but we’re not a particularly conventional family-and when you come right down to it, I don’t give a damn what you think.’
‘I’m not paid to think,’ I said. ‘I’m paid to serve papers. And if you want to be personal, I don’t give a damn what you think.’
‘That’s good. I like your spunk. Sit down there and don’t interrupt me for a minute.’
He took the papers, glanced through the summons, and read through the divorce complaint with the laborious thoroughness of a layman who isn’t familiar with legal papers and has to puzzle through all the whereases, whyfores, and aforesaids. When he had finished, he folded the papers and handed them back to me. His eyes were narrowed thoughtfully. ‘So she wants a court order giving her the custody of the contents of all of the safety deposit boxes, does she?’
‘All I know is what’s in the papers,’ I said. ‘You’ve read those now. You know as much as I do.’
‘Pretty cagey, aren’t you?’ he asked.
‘I’m paid to serve papers,’ I said. ‘Why don’t you talk with your sister if you want to find out just what she has in mind?’
‘Don’t worry,’ he said grimly, ‘I’m going to.’
‘Do you,’ I asked, ‘know where her husband is?’
‘I know Morgan’s mistress,’ he said simply, ‘and she’s a damn nice girl.’
‘Mrs. Birks could have dragged her into the case,’ I pointed out. ‘She didn’t.’
He laughed, and his laugh wasn’t pleasant. ‘A fat chance she’d have, dragging anyone into the case,’ he said. ‘My God, you don’t know women very well, if you can’t size Sandra up just by looking at her.’
He was talking about his sister. I kept quiet.
‘If you’re ever left alone in the room with her for ten minutes, she’ll make a pass at you-oh, don’t look so shocked about it.’
‘I’m not shocked.’
‘Well, I’m warning you. We’re an unconventional family. Hell, I don’t hold it against her. She lives her life. I live mine. But she’s a shrewd, selfish, scheming vixen. She has the morals of a cat. She’s attractive as hell. She has a quick mind-and she uses it most of the time to get something she wants— Hell, I should talk things over with you. Tell her to come in here.’
I stepped to the door and said, ‘Mrs. Birks, your brother wants to talk with you.’
‘You want me to clear out?’ I asked.
‘Hell, no. I want you in here.’
I moved over to the side of the bed. Sandra Birks came in, and said, anxiously, ‘What is it, Bleatie? Are you feeling all right now? The doctor left this sedative to give you if you get nervous and—’
‘Nix on that God damn cooing,’ Bleatie said. ‘You always did put on that solicitous air when you wanted something. Christ Almighty, I’m your brother. I know you like a book. I know what you want. You want to get the name of Morgan’s girl out of me. You want to serve papers on Morgan. You want to get a divorce. You want to be free to marry your latest sweetie. Who is he? That young squirt of a doctor? I’ve got my suspicions about him.’
‘Bleatie!’ she said. ‘Don’t!’ and glanced apprehensively at me. ‘You mustn’t talk that way. You’ve been through a nervous shock, and you’re upset and’
‘Upset, hell!’ he interrupted. ‘Any time a man can’t be twisted around your fingers, it’s because he’s upset and isn’t himself-well, I don’t blame you. Now look here, Sandr
a. You and I are going to have a showdown. You’re my sister. I suppose I should be loyal to you. It also happens that I’m a friend of Morgan Birks’. Just because he’s down at the moment, is no sign you’re going to jump on him with both feet.’
‘Who wants to jump on him with both feet?’ she countered, her eyes beginning to glint. ‘I’ve given him all of the breaks in that divorce complaint. My God, the things I could have said about him would—’
‘Wouldn’t have done you a damn bit of good,’ Bleatie said. ‘Think of the things Morgan could say about you. Look at you! You never can forget your sex. I get my nose busted and damned if you don’t have to drag in your current boy friend or one of your current boy friends-to practice on me. That young squirt ain’t dry behind the ears yet, and you drag him in—’
‘Bleatie! You stop,’ she said. ‘Archie Holoman is a fine young man. Morgan knows him. He’s a friend of the family. There’s absolutely nothing between us.’
His laugh was cynical. ‘So Morgan knows him, does he? And he’s a friend of the family? You know what that means? Just because he comes to the house and shakes hands with your husband and smokes his cigars, makes him a friend of the family, does it? How about the times you see him when Morgan ain’t around?’
‘Bleatie,’ she said, ‘you cut that out or I’ll start doing a little talking. You’re no tin angel yourself. You make me sick with this holier-than-thou attitude. If you want to sling mud, I’ll scoop up a handful. That little—’
He held up his hand and said, ‘Keep your shirt on, baby, keep your shirt on. I’m just leading up to something.’
‘Well, lead up to it right now.’
‘I’ll give you a chance at Morgan,’ he said. ‘You can serve those papers on him and go ahead and rush your divorce case through. But I’m going to see that Morgan has a square deal.’
‘What do you want?’
‘That whole paragraph in there about property,’ he said. ‘You were earning your living when Morgan met you. You’ve feathered your nest since then. God knows how much you’ve picked up, but it’s plenty-you and that wheedling, cooing way of yours. You’ve managed to get a pretty good apartment here. I suppose the rent is paid for a while on a lease. You’ve got a whole closet full of glad rags. You’ve salted a nice little wad of dough. With those clothes on your back, your figure, and your knowledge of what it takes to make men putty in your hands, you’ll take a trip to Europe and wind up with a couple of dukes.’
‘You showed him those papers?’ she asked me, the words coming out in a rush. ‘You let him read my divorce complaint?’
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘You sent me in to talk to him.’
She said irritably, ‘Of all the fool things— ‘She broke off,: turned to her brother. ‘I’m finished with men,’ she said.
He laughed sarcastically.
Sandra Birks had lightning in her eyes, but she kept her voice: calm. ‘What do you want, Bleatie? This isn’t getting us anywhere.’
‘I want you to go to your lawyer and get a new divorce complaint. I want one that doesn’t have anything in it about f property. You get a divorce. You go your way; Morgan goes his.
That’s fair.’ ’
‘What do you mean, property?’
‘That stuff about the safety deposit boxes and all that stuff. You—’
She whirled on me. ‘You’re responsible for this. Why did you think you had to show him the papers?’
‘I made him,’ Bleatie said. ‘Keep your shirt on, Babe. I wasn’t going to be a sucker in this thing. One of these days Morgan is going to be out in the clear. Morgan can look me up then.: $
Morgan isn’t a damn fool. The minute I drag the girl into it, he’s going to know where the tip-off came from. Remember that-Morgan Birks isn’t anybody’s damn fool!’
‘I haven’t any time to go to my lawyers and get another complaint,’ she said. ‘This one has already been filed and a summons issued.’
‘Well, you can change it, can’t you?’
‘I don’t think so.’
‘Sit down there at that desk,’ he said, ‘and write a letter. Put in that letter that you’re asking for property in your divorce complaint, but you really don’t want any, that when the case comes up for trial, you’ll have your lawyer tell the judge you don’t want alimony, that you’ll keep the apartment for as long as the rent is paid, that you’ll keep your clothes and whatever money you have in your jeans, and Morgan can have all the rest.’
‘What are you going to do with that letter?’ she asked.
‘See that you give Morgan a square deal.’
Her mouth was a firm, straight line. Her eyes were hot with anger. The man on the bed met her gaze with the calm assurance of one who is so accustomed to having people yield that he doesn’t even take the possibility of their disobedience into consideration. After a second or two, she walked over to the desk, jerked open the drawer as though she were going to pull it out by the roots, yanked out a sheet of paper, and wrote.
Bleatie said to me, ‘God knows how a cigarette will taste, but I’m going to try one anyway. You got one?’
I nodded.
‘Put it in my mouth,’ he said, ‘and light it for me, will you? The way this bandage sticks out on my nose, I’d probably burn the side of my face off trying to find the end of the cigarette.’
I gave him the cigarette and lit it. He inhaled a couple of deep drags and said, ‘God, it tastes funny!’
After that, he smoked in silence. Over at the desk, Sandra Birks scratched the pen across the paper. When an inch of the cigarette had burned down, she finished writing, blotted the paper, read it over, and handed it across to her brother. ‘All right,’ she said. ‘Now I hope you’re satisfied. You’d strip your own sister naked just to give a lousy friend a break.’
He read it through twice, then said, ‘I think that’s all right.’ He folded the paper, fumbled around until he found his, pants pocket, and pushed it down inside. He looked up at me and said, ‘Okay, buddy. Do your stuff. The girl is Sally Durke. She lives in the Milestone Apartments. Go up there and get hard with her. Get plenty hard. You’ve got to spread it on thick. Throw a good scare into her. Tell her she’s hiding Morgan, that you’re going to see she’s arrested for harboring a fugitive from justice or whatever kind of a stall you want to make. Tell her that Sandra is suing for divorce, is going to drag her into it and is out to collect all Morgan’s property. Don’t say a word to her about this letter Sandra has given me. Pretend you’re a copno, you’d never make that stick-but get hard.’
‘Then what?’ I asked.
‘Then shadow her. She’ll lead you to Morgan.’
‘Morgan won’t come there?’
‘Hell, no. Morgan’s too smart for that. Morgan keeps in touch with her, but he isn’t fool enough to walk into a trap like that, not when he knows the cops are looking for him.’
I turned to Sandra Birks. ‘Got some good pictures of your husband?’ I asked.
‘Yes,’ she said.
Bleatie said, ‘You’ll find his pictures in the newspapers.’
‘I know;’ I agreed, ‘but they’re no good. I’ve already checked up on them.’
‘I have a couple of snapshots and a good photographic portrait,’ Sandra said.
‘I’d prefer the snapshots.’
‘Will you come this way, please?’
I nodded to Bleatie.
‘Good luck, Lam,’ he said, and stretched out on the bed. His lips looked as though he wanted to grin and couldn’t. ‘When you get done, Sandra, come back and give me that sedative. I think in about half an hour this nose is going to be hurting like hell-it’s a wonder you couldn’t watch where you’re driving.’
‘Watch where I’m driving,’ she said. ‘My God, that’s just like you. At the time, you claimed the other car deliberately ran into us. If you could only stay put once—’
‘Save it,’ he said. ‘Lam isn’t interested in the brotherly and sisterly affection of the Thorns family.’
Her eyes glared cold daggers at him. ‘It took you a hell of a while to find that out,’ she said, and flounced out of the room. I followed along behind, closing the door after me.
Alma Hunter looked up with apprehensive eyes. ‘Did you get it?’ she asked breathlessly.
Sandra Birks nodded grimly. ‘You bet I got it,’ she said in a low voice, ‘and what I’m going to do to that baby isn’t even going to be funny!’
She kept on walking right through the living room and across, to a bedroom. ‘Come in here, Mr. Lam,’ she invited.
There were twin beds, pictures on the walls. The furniture was expensive, with plate-glass mirrors at various angles of the room. She said, ‘I have a photograph album here in my dresser drawer. Sit down over there-maybe you’d better sit on the bed because I’ll want to sit beside you. We’ll go over the photographs together, and you can pick out the ones you want.’
I sat down on the bed. She opened a drawer in the dresser, took out a photograph album, and sat down beside me.
‘What was my brother telling you about me?’ she asked.
‘Nothing much.’
‘Yes he did. He-he has a nasty mind. I don’t care if he is my own brother.’
‘We,’ I reminded, ‘were to get a picture of your husband. Is it here?’
She made a little face by wrinkling her nose, and said, ‘Don’t, by any chance, forget whom you’re working for.’
‘I won’t.’
‘Well?’ she asked.
I raised my eyebrows in a silent question.
‘I’m waiting to hear what Bleatie had to say about me.’
‘Nothing much.’
‘Did he say I was selfish?’
‘I don’t remember exactly how he expressed it.’
‘Did he say that I was sex-crazy?’
‘No.’
‘Well,’ she said, bitterly, ‘he’s improving. He usually has that idea about me. My God, I wouldn’t put it past him to even claim Dr. Holoman was a lover.’
When I didn’t say anything, she let her eyes glitter at me from under half-lowered lids. ‘Well,’ she asked, ‘did he?’
The Bigger They Come Page 4
