Ричард Деминг - Manhunt. Volume 1, Number 6, June, 1953

“The time and the place?”

She scribbled on a paper and handed it to me. I looked at it and said, “So long, Lois. See you at nine.”

“So long, Shell. Don’t be late.”

“You kidding?” I left. It was just getting dark.

I reached the Spartan Apartment Hotel, home, at seven p.m. Inside I mixed a weak drink, then settled on the oversized chocolate brown divan in the front room, winked at Amelia, the nude over my fake fireplace, and put in a call to Diane Borden.

“Hello-o?”

“Diane? Shell Scott. I want—”

“Ooooh, Scotty. How nice. You missed me. Really missed me.”

“No. I want—”

“You didn’t miss me? Scotty! Please!”

“O.K., I missed you. Now listen. Reserve two tables at the Ambassador tonight. The Grove, adjoining tables. If you need glasses, wear them—”

“I don’t need glasses—”

“Keep quiet a minute. One table is for you; the other is for me and a gal. I’m hoping she’ll be wearing some rocks. Maybe yes, maybe no, but just in case, I want you to be there to take a peek. If you see anything that looks like yours, just sit tight. I’ll get the word from you; I’ll table-hop or something. O.K.?”

“What are you talking about?”

I went through it again, more slowly and clearly, telling her to get the tables for nine-thirty, and she said, “Is she pretty?”

“Who?”

“The girl.”

“Yeah, she’s a beauty. What’s that got to do with your bracelet and chokers and—” I broke it off. “Oh, hell, I forgot. Drink cokes or something till we get there.”

“I’ll drink anything I want.”

“But you’ll get in—”

“You dope. I’m twenty-one. I told you I was—”

“You’re what!”

“Twenty-one. You can look it up if you want to, just like a detective. I was twenty-one six days ago. So there.”

She hung up.

Well, I thought. Well, well.

It was nine sharp when I read the neat card, “Lois Sanders,” and rang the buzzer. A gong went off inside, then she opened the door and a gong went off in my head. This time she was in a gown like deep-maroon skin, just the right size. The dress wasn’t high on her throat like the green one; it was strapless, smooth, low on her high breasts, snug around her trim waist, gleaming over her curving hips, gracefully draped almost to the floor.

“Come in,” she said. “You’re right on time. And you know something? My headache is miraculously gone.”

I stared at her. “You know something? I am miraculously gone. You look lovely, Lois.” She held the door and I went inside.

“Thank you,” she said. “You’re rather pretty, too. You look right at home in a dinner jacket.”

I’d showered and shaved and climbed into the old tux and black tie. If I’d had soup and fish I’d probably have worn the silly things. I wanted this to be “formal” enough so Lois would feel lost without some glittering jewelry. Funny thing, though, I was beginning to feel a little lousy about this deal.

Lois took both my hands in hers and backed across the room to a divan that faced a wide window.

“You sit there, Shell. Drink before we leave?”

“Swell.”

“You’ll have to take what I’ve got. But its not too bad.”

She was still holding my hands, her back to the window and faint illumination behind her softly outlining the curve of her waist and hips. “Sounds delightful,” I said, and tightened my hands on hers.

She slipped her fingers free and said, smiling, “I meant rum and coke.”

“I was afraid you meant something like that.”

I looked out the window until she came back with the drinks. We chatted about nothing in particular, pleasantly, so pleasantly that I didn’t want it to end and decided I liked Lois perhaps a bit too well. It was nine-fifteen when we finished our drinks.

“Ready, Lois?”

“Uh-huh. I’ll get my stole.”

I followed her to the bedroom door. She picked what looked like a mink stole off the bed, draped it over her shoulders and walked back in front of me. She didn’t have on a single diamond, ruby, bracelet or necklace. She wasn’t even wearing a ring.

I opened my mouth to comment on that, and stopped. This wasn’t at all clever or funny any more. But finally I said, “Here I am all decked out in studs and links and a he-mannish after-shave lotion, and you haven’t so much as a watch. I’ll have to buy you some baubles.”

It came out flat, toneless, and cruelly obvious. I had no way of knowing what Cannon might have said to her earlier in the Zephyr Room. Nor what he’d said yesterday when he gave her what I felt sure was Diane’s bracelet. She could know Cannon had given her a stolen bracelet, she might even be in with him; she might suspect the thing was stolen, or she might even think it was a paste offering from a smitten suitor. And she might not even have it now, whether it was the one I was after or another one entirely — but I had to find out, and I was stuck now with the way I’d played it.

If Lois had wondered, during the evening or earlier, if I’d say anything about her wearing jewelry, she hadn’t given any indication of it. She’d been sweet and happy and smiling, but now the half-smile went away from her face and something went out of her brown eyes.

“Maybe you’re right, Shell,” she said. “I suppose I should wear something.”

She turned away from me and went to a dresser against the left wall, opened the second drawer and took out a square box. “Well, help me out,” she said, not looking at me. “What should I wear?”

She opened the box and watched me as I walked over and looked down into it at the crystal-white stones, and the red ones, the bracelets and chains and pins.

And it was there. The bracelet with the snake’s head, ruby-red eyes, and a forked gold tongue flicking out the of mouth. I picked it up.

“How about this?”

Right then, if it was all going to come apart, was when it should have happened. But she went along with it, neither of us fooling the other. “All right,” she said quietly.

I picked up a glistening choker, gems set into a thin black band. “This would be good.”

“It’s rhinestones. I bought it myself. Most of the others were given to me.” She swallowed. “By men, of course.”

I lifted her wrist. She’d already slipped the bracelet on and I asked, “More rhinestones?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think so.” She hesitated. “Cannon gave it to me, Shell. I suppose you know that.”

“I... I had a hunch, honey.”

She was facing me, and she put the choker around her throat, her hands behind her neck to fasten it there. Her full breasts lifted and pressed against the edge of her dress. She said softly, “I don’t know why I’m putting this on. I hope you didn’t make reservations.”

I winced. “Look, Lois. Let’s get this straight. We might as well now. Cannon gave you the rocks. I think they’re hot — stolen. O.K., there you’ve got it. I didn’t know I was going to get into a screwed-up mess like this, but there it is. Now what about it? Anything you can tell me? Or should I keep on guessing?”

Her brown eyes were icy. “Cannon gave me this yesterday. I don’t know where he got it or how — and up till now I didn’t want to know. He’s given me other things, but never anything so nice. He’s been trying to... buy something from me, by giving me things, but he hasn’t bought anything yet because it’s not for sale. Or... maybe he has bought something.” She paused, looking at me, her oval face sober, then added, “And I don’t like you at all, Shell.”

Neither of us said anything after that for a while, but finally I said, “I wonder whatever made me think I was a detective? Hey, what say we have another quick one, then take off for the high spots.”