Стюарт Стерлинг - Collection of Stories

She slowed the car to stare at him in awe.

“That’s what he did with me. You do seem to know an awful lot about him.”

“Learned quite a bit on short acquaintance,” Don answered drily. “But you see what might happen if I turned you over to the precinct boys. Pretty soon you’d be needing a lift and then you’d agree to go out on bail when some shyster lawyer of his put up the dough. Once you were out, he’d snap the switch on you and I’d have a dead witness instead of a live one.” He pulled her skirt down.

She drove in silence for a while. “If I have to go into court and testify to his — his relations with me, I’d as soon be dead, anyway.”

“Maybe we can get around that. If you’re cooperative.”

Some of the come-on came back to her face. “I’ll be the most cooperative little kitten you ever knew,” she said fervently.

“I’m going to take you to my apartment.”

“Um!” She shot him a provocative sideward glance. “But if he knows you, he’ll find me.”

“He won’t be able to get at you. I’ll have a plainclothes lad down in the lobby on the lookout for him.”

“I’m scared as hell,” she admitted. “But if you want the truth, I always have been scared of him, since I first met him.”

“Where was that?”

“Coming back from Buenos Aires on one of those vacation cruises. He was so clever and such a good dancer and — and so horribly exciting when he made love to me.”

That was probably how he’d met the others, too, Don thought. Daughters of well-to-do families, shipped off to South America for six weeks to get them out of their parents’ hair or to break up undesirable affairs. Crazy for romance and ready to try anything once. After they’d tried it with Clem, he’d have them roped.

It wouldn’t have been too hard to convince them they wouldn’t be running into real trouble even if they got picked up in the store, trying to pass themselves off as society girls accustomed to ordering large quantities of expensive furniture. Probably Clem had coached all of them to do what Suzanne had done when she’d been cornered by a floor-watcher who’d happened to know the woman the Collinson girl had claimed to be, they would pretend it was just a joke.

“Keep on down the expressway to Fourteenth,” he directed her, when they were over the bridge. It’s on Christopher.”

“How long do you expect me to stay with you?”

He was evasive. “Can’t tell. Worrying about your ‘lift’?”

“I have a little.” She touched the handbag at her side. “But by tomorrow—”

“There’s a doc who’s a pal of mine. If you feel like breaking the habit — I’m not preaching, you understand — but he could help you get off it.”

She drew a deep breath. “If it doesn’t mean going to one of those hideous institutions, that’s the thing I want to do most in the world!”

“All right. We’ll see about it.” He told her where to park.

Upstairs in the apartment he said; “See, Evaline, I’m taking you strictly on faith. You can scram out of here as soon’s I’m gone.”

“Are you going right away?” She was disappointed.

“Yes. You can beat it, five minutes after I leave, if you want to. But then we’d get you sooner or later, and your family would be dragged into it. Even if Clem didn’t put the dot on you first.”

“I’ll be here when you get back.” She came up close to him. “I want you to know how grateful I am for not — making things worse for me.”

She kissed him. She held her lips on his until he disengaged her arms gently.

“Okay. If you’re really grateful—” he pointed to the desk in the bookcase corner — “sit down and write out everything you can remember about that Red Bank business. From the beginning. What Ayerell told you to do, what you did, who you saw at our store, every last damn particular. Especially about the big red-headed guy.”

“I don’t know any big red-headed guy. You couldn’t call Clem big.”

“No. Tough. But not big. Know a man named Benny?”

Evaline shook her head. “No. I never heard of him. Maybe he’s the one in the store. I’m sure Clem had someone in Nimbletts tipping him off which accounts to charge to.”

“Sure. He’d have to. He wasn’t trying his tricks on any other store.” He patted her arm. “Keep the door locked. Even if you hear somebody holler ‘Fire.’ I’ll use my key when I come in.”

When he got back to his office Cora gaped at him. “For goodness sake, Mr. Marko! What did that girl do to you?”

He looked at the slip on his desk. It had the red “Urgent” sticker on it. “I found things a little rough up there,” he murmured.

His secretary took out her handkerchief, dabbed at his chin. “She might have been discreet enough to wipe off her lipstick!”

Don said absently, “Oh, that was another girl.”

Cora sniffed, “And it’s all I can do to get you to treat me to coffee once in a while. What have they got that I lack?”

He grinned. “Elastic morals, honey. What’s this from Eddrop’s office?”

“That snippety little assistant of his you know, the one with the horsetail hair-do and the prissy little mouth?”

“Meoww.”

“Uh-huh. I could be catty about Miss Wrenn. Anyhow, she says Mr. Eddrop’s left the office and she can’t get him at his hotel and she wants to speak to you about him just the instant you get in.”

“Hah!” He glanced at his watch. “Put in a little overtime tonight, will you? I might need you.” He hung up his raincoat.

“I’ll be pretty mild company, I’m afraid, after the B girls you seem to have been waltzing around with. She went back to her typewriter.

He found Miss Wrenn in Ralph Eddrop’s private cubicle where he was accustomed to interview customers who wanted to open charge accounts. She was a small, slim, bony girl who used an oddly orangeish shade of rouge. Her lipstick was an off-tone, too. Her eyes were large and limpid. She gazed at Don almost piteously.

“I don’t know what to do, Mr. Marko.”

“What’s the problem?”

“Well—” she hesitated “I feel like a nasty little ingrate, after Mr. Eddrop’s been so kind to me and everything. But the way I look at it, I owe something to the organization, as well as to Mr. Eddrop.”

Don said, “You think he’s been up to no good?”

“I don’t know, Mr. Marko. That’s the trouble. I may get him in wrong by talking when he hasn’t done a single thing he shouldn’t have.”

“Better let me be the judge of that.”

“Well, I do hope I’m wrong. But there’s been something queer going on about those credit tokens, the little coins with Nimbletts and the customer’s name and charge number stamped on them.”

“What’s queer?”

“The bill from the stamping company that makes them up for us — Gothametal Die and Stamping — came in last week and he took it out of the file, Mr. Eddrop did. After a couple of days a new bill came in and it wasn’t for the same amount. It billed us for only 121 new coins instead of 127 like the first one. Mr. Eddrop okayed that and passed it for payment, but he never did mention the first bill. And I remembered checking the coins when they came — they send them by registered mail, you see — and I’m positive there were 127 charge tokens, but on the list he gave me to make out for new customers, there were only 121.” Miss Wrenn was almost tearful. “I wouldn’t have thought another thing about it, of course, if it hadn’t been for this mess in the furniture department. And I hate so to say anything that might get Mr. Eddrop in trouble.”

Don said, “He’s had his share already today, that’s a fact. Could you come back after supper tonight for a couple of hours? I might want to go over this again.”