Margaret Millar - The Devil Loves Me

“The hell with orders,” declared a hoarse voice from the hall. “The hell with everyone! I wanna see Janie—”

“But the doctor left orders—”

“The hell with orders,” the hoarse voice repeated.

She came into the room with slow, unsteady steps and leaned against the wall, surveying the three of them out of glassy, half-closed eyes.

“Migod, a party!” she said.

She couldn’t be any drunker, Prye thought. She still wore her yellow bridesmaid’s dress and the hat of fresh marigolds. The dress was torn at the hem and the hat had slipped down over one eye. Some of the marigolds had come loose and straggled down to lose themselves in her flaming hair. She had a man’s coat draped over her shoulders. It was made of shiny blue serge and was slightly dirty.

Her eyes focused themselves gradually on Inspector Sands.

“Doctor,” she said thickly, “I’m a sick woman. I need a drink.”

“Dinah!” Jane said with infinite reproach.

Reproach for what? Prye asked himself. For being drunk? For going into Duncan’s room? For coming to the hospital?

The point was cleared up immediately.

“You’ve torn your beautiful dress,” Jane said sadly. “Migod,” Dinah said, “you’re cute. You look like a flower in that big bed, a little, fragile flower, a hepa... a hepa... hep—”

“Hepatica,” Prye said.

“That’s right,” Dinah said. “Doesn’t she? But, boys, if you only knew what I know. Boys, I could tell you things that I know.”

“Have a chair, Dinah,” Prye said. He took her arm and guided her to a chair. She sat down with great dignity, holding her neck very straight. The hat slid down her forehead and rolled off.

Prye said, “Dinah, this is Inspector Sands. Mrs. Revel, Inspector.”

“Glad to meet you,” Dinah said, extending her hand vaguely. “Any friend of Jane’s is a friend of mine. You bet. Trouble is, any friend of mine is a friend of Jane’s. Jane, you little hep—”

“Hepatica,” Prye said.

“Tell the boys if it ain’t so, Janie. Go on and tell the boys.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Dinah,” Jane said in an injured voice. “Unless you’re referring to Mr. Williams and his kindness in taking something out of my eye last night.”

“Isn’t she cute, boys?” Dinah demanded. “Didn’t I tell you she was cute? Smart as a whip too. Caught on right away. Mr. Williams it is, Janie. Mr. Williams fixed your eye and I fixed his. I fixed his better than he fixed yours.”

Sands edged quietly toward the door. “Excuse me,” he said softly. “I shall see you later, Mrs. Revel. I’ve got to phone now.”

“Yeah,” Dinah said, watching the door close behind him. “He’s got to see a phone about a dog. Who is that man?”

“A policeman,” Prye said.

Dinah yelped, “Migod! I’m crazy about policemen. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You’re so noisy, Dinah,” Jane said. She turned plaintively to Prye. “I wish you’d take Dinah home, Paul, and look after her. She’s quite impossible when she’s drunk. She imagines things.”

Dinah shook her head owlishly. “Isn’t she the limit, boys? But you don’t know the half of it, boys. Tell ’em the other half, Janie.”

Prye said, “Shall we go home, Dinah?”

“Go on, Janie. Give, Janie.”

Jane sat up straight in the bed, her blond curls falling over her shoulders. “Honestly, Dinah, I had something in my eye and I asked Dennis to get it out for me and he said he would. That’s all there was to it. My conscience is quite clear.”

“Clear like ink,” Dinah said. “If Dennis was getting something out of your eye, why the hell was he kissing the back of your neck? Why the hell would that be, Paul?”

Prye didn’t answer, and she turned back to Jane. “All right, you tell me, Janie. Why the hell would that be?”

“If he was kissing the back of my neck,” Jane said virtuously, “it was without my consent and you really oughtn’t to blame me, Dinah. He might have— He might be One of Those Men.”

Dinah howled, “Migod,” and leaned her head back against the chair. She seemed to be shaking with laughter. She sat up again in a minute and said, “Dennis is one of those men, and God pluck you for a hepatica, you’re one of those girls. The kisser and the kissed.”

Jane raised her head and said to Prye in very dignified tones:

“I’m afraid Dinah is jealous. She’s one of these possessive women. Honestly, I feel sorry for her. I wish you’d take her home.”

“Home,” Dinah said, “is where the drinks are. Come on, Paul.”

“Delighted,” Prye said with feeling.

He went over, picked up her marigold hat from the floor, and helped her to her feet. She swayed back and forth and gradually became steadier. She was clutching the blue serge coat in one hand.

Prye said, “Where did you get the coat? We’ll take it back.”

“Stole it,” she said cheerfully. “Cannot take it back. Cannot smirch the family scutcheon.” She paused at the foot of the bed and waved her free arm at Jane. “Good-by, my little hepatica. I hope you croak.”

“Good-by, Dinah,” Jane said sweetly. “I know you don’t mean what you say when you’re drunk.”

“The hell I don’t,” Dinah said.

Prye guided her out, a firm hand on her arm. In the corridor she stopped and disengaged her arm. “Sorry. I forgot something.”

She went back into Jane’s room. There was the sound of a sharp, heavy slap and a scream. Dinah reappeared in the corridor, looking very pleased.

“Gotta keep score,” she said. “That’s two.”

They took the elevator down to the first floor. At the desk a nurse informed Prye that Inspector Sands had left the hospital twenty minutes previously and could he found at 197 River Road, Humber 5563.

Prye had driven to the hospital in Sands’ car. Now he called a taxi and sat down on a couch in the waiting room beside Dinah. She was becoming very sleepy. He told her jokes to keep her awake, but after giggling impartially at all of them she went to sleep anyway, using her hat as a pillow.

When the taximan arrived he said, “Invalid, sir?”

“At the moment,” Prye said. “Dinah. Dinah, wake up! We’re going home to see Dennis.”

Dinah stirred and sighed, “Oh, Dennis.”

They carried her out between them and put her in the back seat of the taxi.

The driver sniffed the air. “A souse?”

“Somewhat,” Prye said. “River Road, 197, as fast as possible.”

He held Dinah up with one hand and maneuvered a cigarette out of his pocket with the other. He couldn’t strike the safety match in that position so he let go of Dinah and lit his cigarette, and she sagged forward until her head touched her knees. He put his arm around her, and she slept against his shoulder for the rest of the trip.

The driver turned off on River Road and pulled up in front of the Shanes’ house. Prye handed him three dollars.

“You’d better help me move the invalid.”

The driver eased Dinah out of the back seat and propped her up on the running hoard.

“Want me to sober her up a hit?” he asked Prye. “Just so’s she can walk in the house?”

“Just so’s,” Prye said. “It’s another buck for you.”

The driver supported Dinah by draping her over his left arm and with his right he gave her a smart whack on the rear. She let out a yell and straightened up, hanging on to the door of the car.

“I’m shot,” she said. “I’m shot.”

Prye dispensed another dollar. “Pretty,” he said. “There are certain advantages in not being a gentleman.”

“You bet,” the driver agreed, and climbed back into his car.

Dinah made the front steps nicely. Prye rang the bell, and Jackson appeared. When he saw Dinah he began to grin.