James Chase - Lady—Here's Your Wreath

I grinned at her. “Don’t pin too much on this. Maybe it’ll come back with the usual rejection slip.”

Mardi had faith. It didn’t come back, it stuck. A couple of months after sending it off, I had a letter from the publishers in New York I had mailed it to, saying that they liked it and would I come on over and meet them.

I didn’t expect to hear so soon, and we were right in the middle of painting the outside of the house. Mardi insisted on my going, and she stayed behind to finish the work. I knew she’d be all right on her own. We’d been clear of the trial and things had settled down. Spencer and his gang had all caught pretty stiff raps, and although, at the time, Mardi was pretty het up, she’d forgotten about the business by now.

So I took the train west and left her. The publishers were mighty nice to me, offered me a very fair advance, and a contract for two more books. I wasn’t going to waste time hanging around New York. Once I got their contract signed, I grabbed a taxi and made for Central Station. I found I’d got a couple of hours before I could make connections to Santa Monica, so I turned into the refreshment bar for a drink, before deciding where lid go to pass the time. Standing at the bar was Colonel Kennedy.

He said, “Well, this is a surprise.”

I took his hand. “You’re right,” I said. “Colonel, this is a fine time to meet you. I’ve got a lot to thank you for.”

We ordered more drinks and made ourselves comfortable. “What have you been doing all this time?” he asked, once we were settled.

“I’m living at Santa Monica now with my wife,” I said. “You know, I’ve never thanked you enough for letting me have your lodge for a honeymoon.”

He grinned. “That’s all right, Nick,” he said. “I’m glad I had it to lend you. Why live so far away? I guess I’d like to meet that wife of yours.”

- “Well, what are you doing? Why not come on over for a week or so? We’d be glad to have you with us.”

He shook his head regretfully. “I can’t, I’m afraid. I’ve got commitments right now.”

I smiled. “They’re still falling for you, Colonel?” I said.

He nodded. “I guess I haven’t much to worry about,” he said.

I glanced at the clock. “I’ve got almost two hours before I pull out,” I said. “How about having lunch with me?”

He slid off the stool. “Sure, I’d be glad to.”

Now that I had met up with him again, a sudden curiosity to file off the rough ends of the Spencer business seized me. When we got seated in a quiet little restaurant not far from the station and had given our order, I got the conversation round to the angle I wanted it to go.

“Colonel,” I said. “You remember the Mackenzie Fabrics trial?”

He Looked at me, and nodded. I wasn’t sure, but I fancied he looked a little taken aback. “Yes, I remember it—caused quite a sensation.”

“Yeah,” I said, “I was in that business right up to my neck.”

“You were?”

“Yeah. I’d like to tell you about it, because I think you could finish the tale off for me.”

He shook his head. “I don’t know a thing about it,” he protested.

“Wait a minute, Colonel,” I said. “Maybe I can jog your memory.”

I took him carefully through the whole story, and he sat there, his lunch forgotten. When I had finished with the death of Blondie, and how Mardi and I had quietly slipped away to Santa Monica, he sat back and gently blew his cheeks out. “Well, I’ll be damned,” he said. “That’s some yam. I can’t see where I come in, for all that.”

This is where it was going to be a little tricky. “You remember when the newspaper boys had you bottled up at the lodge with a girl friend, Colonel?” I said.

He frowned. “Now I don’t want to go into that,” he said abruptly.

“The girl friend was the woman on the telephone,” I told him quietly. “I want to know who she was.”

He shook his head. “You’ve made a mistake.”

“I’m givin’ you this straight. I heard her voice, and that was enough for me. I’d know that voice anywhere.”

“I can’t discuss this any further, Nick. I’m sorry.”

I said, “Listen, Colonel. I’ve got a right to know. That dame might have caused me a lotta grief. The trial’s over, and the whole thing’s washed up. You know me well enough to know that I won’t use any information you give me. It’s just that it is an unsatisfactory ending— not knowing.”

He sat brooding. “I guess maybe you have a right,” he said with a little smile. “I wouldn’t tell it to any other man, but you’ve done a lot for me.”

He was just saving his conscience, but that didn’t worry me.

“Thank you, Colonel; it’ll go no further.”

He hummed and hawed a bit, then said, “I don’t know who she was—that’s the truth. She came out to see me, representing a fellow named Lee Curtis. This fellow was associated with the Mackenzie Fabrics Co. and I had just put in for a bundle of their stock. This girl was authorised by Curtis to make me an offer for them. She was a devilish pretty woman, and I asked her to stay to dinner while we discussed the matter. I was curious to know why Curtis, who was the secretary of the place, should want to get hold of such a large block.”

“How much was it?” I asked.

Kennedy shrugged. “I forget now, I think it was about ten thousand dollars—something like that. Anyway, we had dinner. All the time, she refused to give me her name, but kept on selling me the idea of parting with the stock. She had some story which didn’t convince me, but in the end I decided to negotiate. Curtis was offering a high percentage on the stock, and I thought it might be worth while.”

“You mean, you don’t know who she was?” I said, disappointed.

“No—I don’t. The rest of the story doesn’t reflect to my glory, but you may as well have it. Once the business part was over, and she gave me Curtis’s cheque, I thought we might get a little more friendly. I did tell you that she was a remarkably pretty woman?”

I nodded a little grimly. “Yeah—you mentioned it.”

“Well, she got a little scared and pulled a gun. I was never so astonished in my life. I tried to take the damn thing away from her, and it went off. The rest of the story you know.”

I sat back. “Well, that don’t get me very far,” I said. “I was hoping to tie that dame down.”

Kennedy glanced at the clock. “You’ll have to be on the move or you’ll lose your train.”

I beckoned the waiter for the bill. Kennedy said hastily, “I’ll pay that.”

I shook my head. “I’ve just sold a book, Colonel. I guess it’s a nice experience to buy a guy, with all the dough you’ve got, a lunch.”

Kennedy laughed. “I’m glad you’ve settled down, Nick. But you’re not to hide yourself away. You must bring your wife up to town.”

I took out my wallet and found a ten-dollar bill which I gave to the waiter. A photo of Mardi was amongst my papers, and I flipped it across to Kennedy. “That’s my wife, Kennedy—you’ll think she’s a grand girl when you meet her.”

I took the change from the waiter and gave him a buck for himself. Then I turned to see what Kennedy was making of Mardi. He was sitting staring at me, his face a little white and his eyes like granite.

I said, “What’s wrong?”

He said in a hard voice, “What’s the idea, Mason?”

I stared at him. “You gone screwy, Colonel?”

He tapped Mardi’s photograph. “If you knew about this girl, why ask me?”

I sat for a full minute, staring at him. Then I said, “That’s my wife, Colonel—I don’t know what you’re gettin’ at.”

“That’s the woman Curtis sent to me to negotiate the stock I was telling you about.”