Erle Gardner: Turn on the Heat

I opened the window, then the door. Bertha Cool switched off the lights. We went out into the corridor, and Bertha Cool said, “Think of having a disposition like that at this hour in the morning. Donald, if you want to take the advice of one who has seen something of the world, go marry that girl before someone else beats you to it.”

I said, “I’ve heard of goofier ideas, at that.”

“What do we do now?” Bertha asked.

I said, “We go back to the taxi. I go out to the Key West Apartments and keep the operatives on the job to make certain nothing slips. You go back to your apartment and grab a little sleep. I don’t dare to show up around the office because they’ll nab me on that hit-and-run charge. You stay away from that office appointment with the cops. Show up at the Key West about nine or nine-thirty, and we’ll go in and have a talk with Aunt Amelia.”

“What are we going to talk about?” Bertha asked.

I said, “I think I know the words, but I don’t know the music — yet. I’ll have to think it over. Keeping a watch on that apartment house will give me a chance to think.”

We climbed in the taxi, and I told the driver to take me to the Key West, and then take Bertha to her apartment.

As we were rolling along, Bertha said, “Do you think she’s going to skip out tonight, Donald?”

“No. Not one chance in a hundred, but we can’t afford to gamble on one chance in a thousand.”

Bertha Cool said, “Are you telling me ,” and settled back against the seat cushions.

The cab driver deposited me at the Key West Apartments. I said good-bye to Bertha Cool and walked over to sit with the operative who was watching the front of the apartment house.

He was a man about fifty-five with twinkling blue eyes, a face like a cherub, and a detailed knowledge of underworld graft and corruption that made the ordinary racket sound like a Sunday school picnic. He’d worked with the government for fifteen years, and I listened to him talk until daylight showed in the east. The palm trees in front of the Key West Apartments began to take colour, and a mocking-bird started pouring its song into the dawn.

I’d heard all I wanted of prostitutes, dope fiends, pimps, and gamblers. I said, “If your insides are as cold as mine, you’ll want some hot coffee.”

I could almost see him start to drool at the mention of the coffee.

I said, “You’ll find an all-night restaurant down the street three blocks, to the left two blocks. It’s a little joint, but you can get good coffee there. I’ll sit here and watch. Don’t be in a hurry. This is a slack time. If she’d been skipping, she’d have made a break earlier.”

“That’s damn white of you,” he said.

“Don’t mention it.”

He climbed out of the car and stamped his feet to get circulation in them. I settled back on the cushions and quit thinking about the case, about murders, criminals, politics, frame-ups. I watched the east get brassy, saw the sun come up and send its first rays, turning the white stucco of the apartment house into a golden glow.

After a while the mocking-birds quit singing. I saw people beginning to move around in the apartment house, windows being closed, curtains being pulled.

The operative came back and said, “After I got there, I figured I might as well have breakfast, so you wouldn’t have to relieve me. I hope I wasn’t too long. It took a hell of a while to get what I wanted.”

I said, “It’s okay. Get in, sit down, and keep quiet for half an hour. I’ve got some thinking to do.”

We sat side by side in the car while the morning began to hum with activity.

Shortly after seven o’clock I walked around to the alley and relieved the other operative while he got breakfast. When he came back, J took time out to walk down to a service station, go in the wash room, and freshen up a bit. I walked around to the restaurant and had some ham, eggs, and coffee. Then I went back to the Key West and waited for Bertha.

Bertha showed up in a taxi about nine-thirty. I thought she looked plenty worried. She came over and told the operative, “There’ll be a relief for you in half an hour. Give me a ring shortly before five and I’ll let you know whether you work tonight.”

He said, “Thanks.”

Bertha said, “You can go wash your hands while we’re in there. She won’t leave while we’re there.”

The operative said, “Thanks,” and added with a grin, “My hands are clean. Lam held the fort for a while early this morning.”

Bertha looked me over and said, “Donald, you look hell.”

I didn’t bother to say anything.

Bertha said, “Drive around to the alley and tell the operative who’s watching the back that I’ll have a relief for him. Tell him to call up shortly before five. You can leave the agency car out in front.”

She looked at me. “Okay, lover?” she asked.

“Okay,” I said. “What’s new?”

We started across the street towards the entrance of the apartment house. She avoided my eyes. “Come on,” I said. “Let’s have it. What’s new?”

“A telegram from the Bureau of Vital Statistics.”

“Saying what?”

“Amelia Sellar married John Wilmen in February of 1922. She was never divorced. There’s no record of the death of either Amelia or John Wilmen. Where does that leave us, Donald?”

“Right in front of the Key West Apartments,” I said, “with a tough job on our hands.”

“What are we going to say to her?”

“It’ll depend on how she reacts. You let me take the lead. Then you follow my play. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. Today is probably the time they intend to spring their trap. There’s just time enough before election to let the news get exaggerated by word-of-mouth gossip. There isn’t time for any refutation.”

“Had breakfast?” Bertha asked.

“Yes.”

The day clerk at the desk smiled at us. I nodded and walked past him to the switchboard. Frieda Tarbing looked up with a perfectly blank face.

“Will you ring Mrs. Lintig,” I said, “and tell her that her dutiful nephew is in the lobby. Please ring very quietly because if she’s asleep I don’t want to disturb her.”

I saw a quick flicker of comprehension on Frieda Tarbing’s face. “Ring quietly?” she asked.

“Very quietly,” I said.

“I get you,” she said.

The clerk gave us the once-over then turned away. Frieda Tarbing went through motions at the switchboard and said, out of the corner of her mouth, “Do you really want me to ring?”

“No,” I said.

She raised her voice, and said, “Mrs. Lintig says for you to go right up. It’s forty-three A on the fourth floor.”

I thanked her, and Bertha Cool and I walked into the elevator. A coloured elevator boy shot us up to the fourth floor. The Key West was an apartment that had just a touch of swank. The service was quietly efficient.

We walked down to 43A, and I knocked on the door.

Almost immediately we heard motion on the other side of the door, and I said to Bertha Cool, “Today’s the day all right. She’s up and ready. Probably she’s due to drive up to Santa Carlotta and be there by afternoon. They’ll let the story break this evening.”

The door opened then. The woman I’d seen in Oakview stood on the threshold. She stared at me frowning, then suddenly recognition dawned on her face. I noticed that she wasn’t wearing spectacles.

“Good morning, Mrs. Lintig,” I exclaimed cordially. “You’ll remember me. I’m from the Blade in Oakview. A friend of yours, Sergeant Harbet, told me he thought you’d have a story ready for me.”

She frowned and said, “I didn’t know he wanted it published in Oakview. I didn’t— Do you know Sergeant Harbet?”