Brett Halliday - She Woke to Darkness

“But we didn’t,” Doris protested. She sat erect, and her eyes were round and guileless. “I was never so surprised in my life when you turned up on my doorstep.”

“As if you hadn’t known I was coming… and arrayed yourself in your most beguiling negligee. And I loved you for it.” He bent his head and kissed Doris tenderly on the lips. Her arms went around his neck.

Aline stood up. “I’ll leave you two lovebirds now,” she said in a thin voice. “Sorry I interrupted, but I did want to get a line on last evening.”

“Oh, no.” Ralph hastily released Doris and came to his feet. “It’s almost daylight. I have to consider Doris’ reputation and not stay too late. My car’s parked just outside. I’ll run you home.”

“You needn’t bother,” Aline said stiffly, turning to the door. “I can walk.”

“No bother at all. I’m sure Doris wishes we’d both go and let her get her beauty sleep.”

He was directly behind Aline as she stepped out, and for a brief moment she felt a chill sense of fear course up her spine. It was silly, of course. She knew it was silly. But she wished desperately that Doris would call him back.

Ralph closed the door firmly and took Aline’s arm to help her up the stairs, muttering in a low voice, “Thank God for small favors. I thought I was never going to be able to break away from that empty-headed little fool.”

“A fine thing to say about a girl,” Aline retorted. “Particularly after you’ve just spent the night with her.”

“Exactly the time one would say it about Doris,” he told her cheerfully. They reached the street level and he led her toward his parked convertible.

“What did you say about me after that last time?”

“The truth, of course. Not all the truth,” he amended hastily, opening the door for Aline. “No one in the world knows anything about that night except that you passed out and I took you home and tucked you in.” He patted her hand, closed the door, and went round to the other side to slide under the wheel.

As Aline settled back against the cushion she felt something hard against her right hip. Twisting around slightly, she put her hand down to discover a small leather handbag wedged between the seat cushion and the back.

It had a familiar shape and feel as she drew it half way out. Covertly she glanced down at it in the light from a street lamp and shuddered. It was her own alligator bag. The one she had carried to Bart’s last night. The one that had been missing from the hotel room. The one she had searched for so zealously.

Ralph had turned on the ignition. He was pressing the starter button, his eyes on the road. The motor whirred and took life.

“How did my handbag get here, Ralph?” Aline scarcely recognized her own fear-distorted voice. “In your car… slipped down behind the cushion.”

“May have been there for days,” he said genially, rolling forward on the empty street. “Let’s see. I drove you home from the office last Wednesday.”

“This is the bag I had at Bart’s party tonight,” she told him in a flat voice.

“Oh?” He hesitated, glancing aside at her tight face and wetting his lips with the tip of his tongue. “Then you were blacked out, weren’t you? I wondered. It’s so hard to tell with you. Don’t you remember anything at all about my taking you home?”

“But you told Doris you left alone. That I was still there when you left.”

“Pride, my dear. I didn’t want to confess to her that you kicked me out after we got to your place. She’d have felt she was second choice. Which she was, of course. You must have left your bag when you got out, and I didn’t notice it.”

“Ralph! You’ve got to tell me. What did happen. Did you drive me home?”

“Right to your doorstep,” he assured her cheerfully. “You were sweet enough in the car, but you turned nasty as hell when I suggested coming up. I didn’t know just how tight you were,” he went on thoughtfully. “That other time you blacked out you were glad enough to have my company. So, I thought you knew what you were doing and wanted to be alone as you said. I don’t like street scenes, damn it. And I knew Doris would be receptive.”

“And you left me standing outside?” Aline asked in a shaky voice.

“You were going up the steps to the door when I drove away.”

“Without my handbag?” She shuddered. “And without my keys? I couldn’t have got in the front door. What did I do? My God, Ralph, what do you suppose I did?”

Ralph had been driving east on 26th. Now, he turned north and pulled to the curb in front of the canopied entrance to a six-story apartment building. “You went back to the party, maybe… or called someone up,” he suggested. “Where were you when you came to this time?”

“I’m not going to tell you,” she said defiantly.

“No reason why you should,” he agreed. He cut his motor and leaned past her to open the door on her side. “Be sure you’ve got your key this time. I’ll sit right here until you go inside.”

“Please, Ralph.” Aline put a trembling hand on his arm. “Come up with me. I’m frightened. I’ve got to talk. Try to figure out what happened. Don’t you see that without my bag I didn’t have taxi fare? Not even a dime to telephone with. I was locked out here on the street, and then what?”

“You poor kid.” Ralph lifted her hand from his arm and kissed it. “Of course I’ll come up with you. Might as well make a night of it now.” He slid along the cushion and got out on her side of the car, went up the short flight of stone steps with her, and through swinging doors to an entry-way lined with mail boxes.

Aline took a leather key-holder from her purse. Beside the lock on the inner door there was a bell with a brass plate beneath it that read SUPERINTENDENT.

Ralph gestured to it and said, “Perhaps you rang the super and he let you in last night. That would be the normal thing. It wasn’t terribly late”

“How late?” She put a key in the lock and turned it, opened the door onto a small, attractive lobby with two self-service elevators at the rear.

“About midnight,” Ralph told her on the way to the elevators. One was waiting and he opened the door and followed her in. Aline pressed the button for the fourth floor and it began to rise easily. She stood silent, waiting for him to go on.

“I stopped at a bar for a couple of drinks after leaving you,” Ralph continued, “to give Doris time to break away from the party and get home. I got to her place about twelve-thirty. So it couldn’t have been past midnight when I left you.”

The elevator stopped and they went down a short length of carpeted hallway to a door which she unlocked. She went in ahead of him to turn on a light in the living room, took a quick look about and shook her head despairingly.

“I don’t believe I was back here after the party at all. It’s exactly the way I remember leaving it.” She went toward the small dressing alcove off the bathroom, saying, “I know I look like the wrath of God. Make yourself a drink while I fix my face a little and comb my hair.” She went in and closed the door.

Ralph went to the low, glass-topped bar in front of the studio couch, opened it and took out a flagon of rye and a large shot glass. He filled it and settled back on the couch, his face bland and uncommunicative as he waited for Aline to return.

It took her ten minutes. Her features were still tight and ravaged, but rouge and powder and a hairbrush had done much to improve her appearance. She sat down beside him, shook her head and shuddered when he lifted his glass and gestured toward its mate with the dregs of a drink she had left before leaving for Bart’s party.

“Not for me,” she said flatly. “Never again. I swear it. What do you think could have happened after you left me here without a key?”