If Death Ever Slept

Now how the hell did he know that? Also, was it proper for a butler to let me know he knew it? I suspected not. I suspected that my gin invitation, if it hadn’t actually crashed the sound barrier, had made a dent in it. I headed for the corridor and for the rear, and will claim no credit for spotting the door because it was standing open and voices were emerging. Entering, I was in semi-darkness. The only light came from the corridor and the television screen, which showed the emcee and the panel members of “Show Your Slip.” The voices were theirs. Turning, I saw her, dimly, in a chair.

“Do you mind if I join you?” I asked.

“Of course not,” she said, barely loud enough. That was all she said. I moved to a chair to her left, and sat.

I have no TV favorites, because most of the programs seem to be intended for either the under-brained or the over-brained and I come in between, but if I had, “Show Your Slip” wouldn’t be one of them. If it’s one of yours, you can assume you have more brains than I have, and what I assume is my own affair. I admit I didn’t give it my full attention that evening because I was conscious of Susan there within arm’s reach, and was keeping myself receptive for any sinister influences that might be oozing from her, or angelic ones either. I felt none. All that got to me was a faint trace of a perfume that reminded me of the one Lily Rowan uses, but it wasn’t quite the same.

When the windup commercial started she reached to the chair on her other side, to the control, and the sound stopped and the picture went. That made it still darker. The pale blur of her face turned to me. “What channel do you want, Mr. Green?”

“None particularly. Mr. Jarrell finished with me, and the others were playing cards, and I heard it going and came in. Whatever you want.”

“I was just passing the time. There’s nothing I care for at ten-thirty.”

“Then let’s skip it. Do you mind if we have a little light?”

“Of course not.”

I went to the wall switch at the door, flipped it, and returned to the chair, and her little oval face was no longer merely a pale blur. I had the impression that she was trying to produce a smile for me and couldn’t quite make it.

“I don’t want to intrude,” I said. “If I’m in the way-”