Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine. Vol. 7, No. 9, September 1962

A moment later, Julie emerged fuming from the inner office. Mary’s gaze followed her to her desk. “Obviously he didn’t offer you a raise in salary,” she quipped.

“Mary, tell me, do I ever daydream on the job?”

“Is that what lover boy said?”

Julie opened her desk drawer and yanked out her handbag. “I must be a masochist to find something appealing in a man like that! If he asks for me, say I’m off daydreaming somewhere.”

“You going down to call Mrs. Turner?”

Julie nodded. “I promised. She wants to meet me for lunch. Wouldn’t you just bet she’ll ask me to help her pick out a lovely surprise gift for her dear, dear husband? Arsenic — that’s what I’ll recommend!”

The elevator man was chatty and helped to cool Julie’s temper as he brought her down five flights to the lobby. The counterman at Bill’s Diner next door waved to her familiarly. Faith in human nature was momentarily restored. Julie slipped into one of the telephone booths in the rear of the diner and dialed Mrs. Turner’s number.

They arranged to meet for lunch at 12:30, at a restaurant Julie was reasonably sure her employer was not likely to patronize... he was expected at a business lunch today anyway. When Julie arrived at the meeting place, Mrs. Turner was already sipping a drink at the table, her gross features a portrait of determination and bitterness.

It was not long before Julie understood the reason for this grim countenance. No sooner had the waitress brought their order when Mrs. Turner clutched her companion’s hands across the table.

“Julie, I want you to be honest with me. Don’t be afraid of hurting me with the truth—”

“I’ll try, Mrs. Turner, but what...?”

“Tell me, is my husband carrying on with another woman?”

The girl was too surprised even to deny having such knowledge. Mrs. Turner leaned forward tensely.

“Julie, I must know. I’m leaving him anyway, don’t you understand? But I must know who she is.”

“Mrs. Turner, I really don’t know anything about—”

“Yes, you do. You’re his secretary. All of you at the office know who she is. Julie, I want to strike back. You can understand that. I want to disgrace both of them!”

“Did he tell you he was in love with some other woman?” Julie asked, aware of a guilty flush on her cheeks.

“Love? Richard doesn’t love anybody. He uses people. He married me only for my money.” The ugly woman smiled thinly. “But now he’s angry at me... oh, how he raged last night... because I won’t transfer any of my money into his account. Transfer my money? What kind of fool does he think I am? Do you know what he said when I refused? He taunted me. He said he was going to find other women... beautiful women... to take his mind off his money troubles—”

“But, Mrs. Turner, he didn’t say there already was another woman, did he? He only threatened...”

The older woman shook her head sagely. “You don’t know Richard. He never threatens until he’s sure of what he has. The bird in the hand philosophy. But I want to ruin it for both of them. I want to leave him before he’s ready to leave me. Then he’ll have nothing. And at the same time I want to create such a scandal that I’ll ruin all his chances of marrying someone else. They won’t even dare speak to each other after I’m through. Julie, who are his clients? The unattached women?”

She was quite alarmed. “I couldn’t give you the names of clients.”

Mrs. Turner leaned back with an appearance of defeat. She could sense Julie’s determination, and her own wilted. “Oh well, I understand. Of course you can’t. I suppose you’ve been as helpful as you can, and, don’t worry, Julie, I won’t tell him about our meeting. But tonight I’ll tell him I’m through with him...” Again she smiled. “I’ll enjoy telling him. It’ll be interesting to see how he tries to convince me he didn’t mean to threaten me, that he really loves me... Yes, it’ll be quite a night...”

At the office again, it was impossible to get any work done. Mr. Turner was still out with a client most of the afternoon, but Mary gave her no peace until she had told her everything that happened; and it was a relief to share the incident with someone. It was an even greater relief when five o’clock came and she left the office to board the subway to the Bronx.

Not until she was at the dinner table that evening did Julie remember the Sloban account. Her mother was berating her kid sister for not doing her homework, for daydreaming... and Julie suddenly realized that in her distress this afternoon, she had forgotten to bring the Sloban folder up to date. The idea of facing Mr. Turner the next day with this oversight was a dreaded one, especially after his criticism this morning and considering the mood he would be in after tonight, after his wife...

It was barely seven o’clock, she noted. She could return to the office, bring home the folder to work on it, and have it finished before bedtime. Despite her mother’s objections to her going out again, Julie slipped into her coat and dashed out of the house.