Brett Halliday - She Woke to Darkness

“Oh, no? Well, when he flung away from me an hour ago he said he’d see you any damned time he wanted to and what could I do to stop him? You slut, you!” Ina’s voice sprayed venom. “Keeping him out all hours and then sending him back to me so nasty-drunk I have to clean up his vomit. Let me tell you a thing or two right now. If you think for one minute…”

“But I didn’t,” Aline broke in determinedly.

“Didn’t what?”

“Keep him out all hours. I’ve never been out with Dirk in my life.”

“That’s what he said, too,” shrilled Ina. “But don’t think I didn’t do some checking up last night when he didn’t come home from Bart’s party where he slipped off by himself. I’ve got some friends, too, you know. And they told me plenty. I know well enough where he was… and why you didn’t answer your phone all last night. I suppose you precious two lay up in bed together and laughed and laughed while it rang… while I tore my heart out trying to call him. Well, you listen to me, Miss Bitch! Dirk’s my husband. He’s never done such a thing to me before, and he never will again if I have to castrate him. How’d you like that? You tell him I said so and to come home!”

Ina Dreer was sobbing hysterically when she hung up.

Aline replaced the receiver with shaking hands. Her legs felt rubbery and there was a churning in her stomach. What a mess it all was! Somehow, the problem of the dead man wasn’t nearly so acute, now, as this new development.

Poor, dear Dirk. Just because he had kissed her a couple of times at the party. Just because he had sought a little human sympathy and understanding. How could this horrid accusation be built on so small a foundation? It hadn’t meant anything. Really it hadn’t. Just a little amorous dalliance between good friends.

Then a frightening realization came to her: That’s the way she remembered it. Up to the third martini. Up to the point she had blacked out.

Again she flung herself on the couch, this time because she felt too weak to stand.

What had happened after that? How much of Ina’s hysterical accusation was true? Why had she and Ralph fought over the way she and Dirk were carrying on, as Doris had said?

Dirk, and the stranger named Vincent Torn!

What in the name of God had she done after that third martini?

Aline was still lying face down on the couch fifteen minutes later when there was a knock on her door. She rolled over dazedly and sat up.

The knock was repeated. It wasn’t exactly a furtive knock, but it sounded hesitant. As though the person standing outside weren’t exactly sure whether it was the right door or not, or whether Aline would welcome his or her presence.

She pulled herself to her feet and went to the door and opened it. The sight of the big, blond Viking standing there, with boyishly tousled hair and a wistful, wishful sort of smile on his lips brought a sudden smarting to Aline’s eyes.

She whispered, “Dirk! My God, Dirk! What are you doing here? Ina just telephoned. She’s terribly upset.”

He said, “I know. I’m horribly sorry, my dear. Everything seems to have gotten itself in pretty much of a tangle.” He hesitated momentarily. “May I come in? Or would you rather I went away and never came back?”

Aline laughed shakily. “Please do come in.” She held the door open wide for him. “After what Ina suspects about last night, nothing that happens now can matter very much.

“I know exactly what you mean.” His eyes were bloodshot and his suit looked as though he had slept in the gutter in it. He entered her living room and sat down heavily. “I’m in an apologetic mood this morning,” he confessed unhappily. “If I owe you one… or many… please consider them as being very humbly offered.”

“I’m not at all sure that you owe me any.” Aline closed the door and turned to look down at him curiously. “Before we go into any of that, how the dickens did you get up to my apartment without buzzing me from outside?”

“I used your key.” He looked surprised and opened his clenched palm to show her a flat key. “An extra you had last night. Don’t you remember giving it to me at Bart’s?”

Aline shook her head slowly, sinking down onto the couch opposite him. “I’m sorry, Dirk,” she said wearily. “I don’t remember. Did I really?”

“Dear God!” Dirk spread out his hands piously. “Don’t tell me you forget things too?”

“I’m afraid I lost a lot of last night.”

“Oh, no! I’d depended on you. Didn’t I come up here after the party as you asked me to?”

“I don’t know,” Aline confessed miserably. “You see, I passed out, too. Honestly, Dirk, I don’t remember a single thing after my third martini.” She hesitated, biting her underlip in embarrassment. “What the hell?” she burst out angrily. “We won’t get anywhere beating around the bush. I remember you making love to me. Not too much, but nicely. But I didn’t know I gave you my key.”

“Then you passed out before I did,” Dirk said lugubriously.

“And I’d depended on you to put me straight on what happened.” He paused to take a deep breath, and went on rapidly, “I came to in my own place about four o’clock this morning with Ina in hysterics and accusing me of having spent the night with you. Seems she’d phoned around and had been told that you and I had sort of made some passes at each other at the party. I indignantly denied everything, but when I found your key in my pocket, I thought of course this is where I’d been all the time. If I didn’t come here, where the devil did I go?”

“I’m sure you weren’t here. Or, if you were, you were here alone.”

“When did you get in?” he asked unhappily.

Aline hesitated. A dreadful and horrible doubt was beginning to take possession of her mind. “How much do you remember about Bart’s party?” she demanded.

Dirk shrugged. “Dimly, right up to the last. You deserted me, you know. For some other man. A chap I’d never met before. Most unattractive, I thought him. But you whispered to me that it would be much safer for us both, there among people who knew us, if you pretended to be interested in someone else. You promised me faithfully,” he added sadly, “that you would get rid of him and be waiting for me here. Then you disappeared, and I lost track of just what happened. I naturally supposed I had come here.”

“You don’t remember anything after the party broke up?” demanded Aline.

“Nothing. It remains a complete blank. I couldn’t admit that to Ina, of course,” he went on hurriedly. “I made up a long story for her benefit about meeting a couple of strange men in a bar and drinking with them. Not that she believed me. She’s convinced I was here with you, and her conviction strengthened my own. Where were you if not here?”

Aline Ferris hesitated before answering him, biting her underlip uncertainly. She wanted terribly to confide in Dirk. To pour out every horrible detail to him and to beg for his advice. Did she dare to do it?

Could he be mixed up in it, too, somehow? The thought was utterly fantastic, but she couldn’t put it wholly away from her. She evidently had given him her extra key last night and invited him to come up after the party even though she didn’t remember doing so. With that incentive, and in a state of drunkenness, could he possibly have followed her… seen her meet Vincent Torn outside the cocktail lounge?

She shuddered violently and avoided his eyes, saying miserably, “I’m in a terrible mess, Dirk. I don’t know what to do, where to turn. I wish you had come here last night. If you only had! And stayed with me. I’d be almost willing to have Ina know about it, if it were only true.”