Dashiell Hammett: The Thin Man

“Any calls?” I asked Nora when I had her on the line.

“Yes, sir. Messrs. Macaulay and Guild want you to phone them, and Mesdames Jorgensen and Quinn want you to phone them. No childrep so far.”

“When did Guild call?”

“About five minutes ago. Mind eating alone? Larry asked me to go see the new Osgood Perkins show with him.”

“Go ahead. See you later.”

I called up Herbert Macaulay.

“The date's off,” he told me. “I heard from our friend and he's up to God knows what. Listen, Charles, I'm going to the police. I've had enough of it.”

“I guess there's nothing else to do now,” I said. “I was thinking about telephoning some policemen myself. I'm at Mimi's. He was here a few minutes ago. I just missed him.”

“What was he doing there?”

“I'm going to try to find out now.”

“Were you serious about phoning the police?”

“Sure.”

“Then suppose you do that and I'll come on over.”

“Right. Be seeing you.”

I called up Guild.

“A little news came in right after you heft,” he said. “Are you where I can give it to you?”

“I'm at Mrs. Jorgensen's. I had to bring the kid home. That red-head lad of yours has got him bleeding somewhere inside.”

“I'll kill that mugg,” he snarled. “Then I better not talk.”

“I've got some news, too. Wynant was here for about an hour this afternoon, according to Mrs. Jorgensen, and left only a few minutes before I got here.”

There was a moment of silence, then he said: “HoId everything. I'll be right up.”

Mimi came into the living-room while I was looking up the Quinns' telephone number. “Do you think he's seriously hurt?” she asked.

“I don't know, but you ought to get your doctor right away.” I pushed the telephone towards her. When she was through with it, I said: “I told the police Wynant had been here.”

She nodded, “That's what I phoned you for, to ask if I ought to tell them.”

“I phoned Macaulay, too. He's coming over.”

“He can't do anything,” she said indignantly. “Clyde gave them to me of his own free will—they're mine.”

“What's yours?”

“Those bonds, the money.”

“What bonds? what money?”

She went to the table and pulled the drawer out. “See?”

Inside were three packages of bonds held together by thick rubber bands. Across the top of them lay a pink check on the Park Avenue Trust Company to the order of Mimi Jorgensen for ten thousand dollars, signed Clyde Miller Wynant, and dated January 3, 1933.

“Dated five days ahead,” I said. “What kind of nonsense is that?”

“He said he hadn't that much in his account and might not be able to make a deposit for a couple of days.”

“There's going to be hell about this,” I warned her. “I hope you're ready for it.”

“I don't see why,” she protested. “I don't see why my husband—my former husband—can't provide for me and his children if he wants to.”

“Cut it out. What'd you sell him?”

“Sell him?”

“Uh-huh. What'd you promise to do in the next few days or he fixes it so the check's no good?”

She made an impatient face. “Really, Nick, I think you're a half-wit sometimes with your silly suspicions.”

“I'm studying to be one. Three more lessons and I get my diploma. But remember I warned you yesterday that you'll probably wind up in—”

“Stop it,” she cried. She put a hand over my mouth. “Do you have to keep saying that? You know it terrifies me and—” Her voice became soft and wheedling. “You must know what I'm going through these days, Nick. Can't you be a little kinder?”

“Don't worry about me,” I said. “Worry about the police.” I went back to the telephone and called up Alice Quinn. “This is Nick. Nora said you—”

“Yes. Have you seen Harrison?”

“Not since I left him with you.”

“Well, if you do, you won't say anything about what I said last night, will you? I didn't mean it, really I didn't mean a word of it.”

“I didn't think you did,” I assured her, “and I wouldn't say anything about it anyway. How's he feeling today?”

“He's gone,” she said.

“What?”

“He's gone. He's left me.”

“He's done that before. He'll be back.”

“I know, but I'm afraid this time. He didn't go to his office. I hope he's just drunk somewhere and—but this time I'm afraid. Nick, do you think he's really in hove with that girl?”

“He seems to think he is.”

“Did he tell you he was?”

“That wouldn't mean anything.”

“Do you think it would do any good to have a talk with her?”

“No.”

“Why don't you? Do you think she's in love with him?”

“No.”

“What's the matter with you?” she asked irritably.

“No, I'm not home.”

“What? Oh, you mean you're some place where you can't talk?”

“That's it.”

“Are you—are you at her house?”

“Yes.”

“Is she there?”

“No.”

“Do you think she's with him?”

“I don't know. I don't think so.”

“Will you call me when you can talk, or, better still, will you come up to see me?”

“Sure,” I promised, and we hung up.

Mimi was looking at me with amusement in her blue eyes. “Somebody's taking my brat's affairs seriously?” When I did not answer her, she laughed and asked: “Is Dorry still being the maiden in distress?”

“I suppose so.”

“She will be, too, as long as she can get anybody to believe in it. And you, of all people, to be fooled, you who are afraid to believe that—well—that I, for instance, am ever telling the truth.”

“That's a thought,” I said. The doorbell rang before I could go on.

Mimi let the doctor in—he was a roly-poly elderly man with a stoop and a waddle—and took him in to Gilbert.

I opened the table-drawer again and looked at the bonds, Postal Telegraph & Cable 5s, Sao Paulo City 6Ѕs, American Type Founders 6s, Certain-teed Products 5Ѕs, Upper Austria 6Ѕs, United Drugs 5s, Philippine Railway 4S, Tokio Ehectric Lighting 6s, about sixty thousand dollars at face value, I judged, and—guessing—between a quarter and a third of that at the market.

When the doorbell rang I shut the drawer and let Macaulay in.

He looked tired. He sat down without taking off his overcoat and said: “Well, tell me the worst. What was he up to here?”

“I don't know yet, except that he gave Mimi some bonds and a check.”

“I know that.” He fumbled in his pocket and gave me a letter:

Dear Herbert:

I am today giving Mrs. Mimi Jorgensen the securitieslisted below and a ten thousand dollar check on the Park Ave. Trust dated Jan. 3. Please arrange to havesufficient money there on that date to cover it. I would suggest that you sell some more of the public utilitybonds, but use your own judgment.

I find that I cannot spend any more time in New York at present and probablywill not be able to get back here for several months, but will communicate with you from time to time. I amsorry I will not be able to wait over to see you and Charles tonight.

Yours truly,

Clyde Miller Wynant

Under the sprawling signature was a list of the bonds.

“How'd it come to you?” I asked.

“By messenger. What do you suppose he was paying her for?”

I shook my head. “I tried to find out. She said he was providing for her and his children.'”

“That's likely, as likely as that she'd tell the truth.”

“About these bonds?” I asked. “I thought you had all his property in your hands.”

“I thought so too, but I didn't have these, didn't know he had them.” He put his elbows on his knees, his head in his hands. “If all the things I don't know were laid end to end