Erle Gardner: Turn on the Heat

“Ever make any money at it?” I asked.

“No,” she said, and then, after a moment: “Have you?”

“A little.”

“Do you think I could?”

“No. I think you could make more money by talking. How does it happen you’re the only pretty girl in town?”

“Thank you. Have you taken a census?”

“I have eyes, you know.”

She said, “Yes, I’d noticed that.”

The bartender filled the glasses. She said. “The cashier at the picture show says the travelling salesmen all ask her why she’s the only pretty girl in town. Perhaps that’s just the urban approach.”

“I don’t think much of it,” I said. “It doesn’t seem to get one anywhere.”

“Why don’t you try another one?”

“I will,” I said. “In 1919 this town supported an eye, ear, nose, and throat specialist. It doesn’t look as though it would support one now.”

“It wouldn’t.”

“What happened?”

She said, “Lots of things. We never list them all at once. It sounds too depressing to strangers.”

“You might give me the first instalment.”

She said, “Well, the railroad had shops here. It changed the division point and moved the shops, and there was a depression in ’21, you know.”

“Was there?” I asked.

“So they tell me. Business fumbled the ball, but recovered it before the politicians grabbed it.”

“What,” I asked, “are the Blade’s political affiliations?”

“Local,” she said, “and in favour of the incumbents. There’s quite a bit of county printing, you know. We’d better finish the cocktails and get to the dining-room before the local talent highgrades the best of the food.”

We finished the cocktails, and I escorted her into the dining-room. After we were seated, I toyed with the menu and asked, “What do we eat?”

“Well,” she said, “you don’t want corned beef hash. I wouldn’t take the chicken croquettes because they had the chicken Wednesday. If there’s veal potpie, it was left in over from Thursday. You’re pretty safe on roast beef, and they do have good baked potatoes.”

“A baked potato,” I said, “with lots of butter would make up for a lot of other things. How did you happen to go to dinner with me?”

Her eyes grew large and round. “Why, you asked me.”

“How did I happen to ask you?”

She said, “Well, I like that!”

I said, “I happened to ask you because you brought the subject up.”

“I did?”

“Indirectly, and you brought it up because the man who tried to pump me, and couldn’t, went back of the partition and suggested to you that it might be a good idea.”

She let her eyes grow very large and said, “Oooh, Grandma, what big ears you have!”

“And he made that suggestion because he wanted some information, and he intimated that he had some information that he might give me in exchange for information I could give him.”

“Did he really?”

“You know he did.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, “but I’m not a mind-reader.”

A waitress came and took our orders. I noticed her looking around the dining-room. “Worried?” I asked.

“About what?”

“Whether Charlie will see you dining with me before you have a chance to tell him that it was a business assignment the boss gave you.”

“Who’s Charlie?”

“The boy friend.”

“Whose?”

“Yours.”

“I don’t know any Charlie.”

“I know, but I didn’t think you’d tell me about him so we might as well call him Charlie. It’ll save time and simplify matters.”

She said, “I see. No. I’m not worried about Charlie. He’s really quite broad-minded and tolerant.”

“No firearms?” I asked.

“No. It’s been almost six months since he shot anyone, and even then it was only a shoulder shot. The man wasn’t in the hospital over six weeks.”

“Admirable self-restraint,” I said. “I was afraid Charlie might have a temper.”

“Oh, no. He’s very patient — and kind to animals.”

“What does he do?” I asked. “I mean for a living.”

“Oh, he works here.”

“Not the hotel?” I asked.

“No, no. Here in town.”

“Does he like it here?”

The bantering look left her eyes. She jabbed her fork into her roast beef, and said, “Yes.”

I said, “That’s nice,” and she didn’t say anything for a minute or two.

The dining-room was fairly well filled. I didn’t figure the hotel rooms furnished the a good deal of it was steady trade. Several of the diners showed an interest in Marian Dunton and her escort. I figured the girl was pretty well known to the local trade. I asked her a few more questions about the town and got short, informative answers. She wasn’t trying to kid me any more. Something had put a damper on her spirits. I tried to figure whether it was someone who had come into the dining-room about the time the light went out of her eyes. If that was the case, I could divide responsibility between two middle-aged men who seemed utterly engrossed in the food and their own conversation, and the family party who looked like automobile tourists, a middle-aged man with a bald head and faded grey eyes, a chunky woman, a girl about nine, and a boy about seven.

After we’d had dessert, I offered her one of my cigarettes. She accepted. We lit up, and I took out the list of names I’d made and handed it to her. “How many of these people are still in town?” I asked.

She studied the list for a few minutes, and then said grudgingly, “You are smart. I mean you really are.”

I waited for her to answer my question. After a while she said, “You have fifteen names here. Not over four or five of them are still in town.”

“What happened to them?”

“Oh, they went the way of the railroad shops. Those people made up the younger set when Dr. Lintig lived here. I’ve known some of them. Quite a few left when business started to get bad. We had another setback in 1929. A canning factory that was here folder up.”

“How those who’re left? Do you f know them?”

“Yes.”

“Where could I reach them?”

“You could find the names in the telephone book.”

“Couldn’t you tell me?”

“Yes, but I’d prefer you got the information from the telephone book.”

“I see,” I said. I folded the list and put it back into my pocket. There was a movie with a second-run picture that I’d seen. I suggested we go, and she accepted. From the way she acted, I was pretty certain she’d already seen the movie. Afterwards, we had ice cream, and over the ice cream I took out my list again.

“Suppose you check the persons who are still here,” I said. “It would save wear and tear on the telephone directory.”

She thought that over for a while, then took the list and checked four names. She said, “That’s an intelligent way of going about it, but I don’t think it’ll get you any place. I don t think anyone in town knows where she is.”

“Why do you seem so positive?”

“It attracted a lot of attention, you know.”

“That was back before the depression,” I said. “A lot of things have attracted attention since then.”

She acted as though she wanted to tell me something, but felt that she shouldn’t. I said, “Go ahead. Give me a break.”

She said, “ You don’t give me any.”

I said, “If I could find Mrs. Lintig, it might be very much to her advantage. She might fall heir to a large estate.”

Marian Dunton laughed, and said, “And then again, she might win a sweepstakes.”

I grinned.

“Won’t you tell me why all this activity about Mrs. Lintig?”