Kept Women Can’t Quit

I hung up the telephone and called the Colter-Craig Casualty Company.

When the operator at their switchboard answered, I said, “Who’s in charge of the investigation on this armored car business?”

“I think,” she said, “you should talk with Mr. George Abner. Just a moment and I’ll connect you.”

A moment later a man’s voice said, “Hello. George B. Abner talking.”

“You in charge of that armored car loss?” I asked.

“I am the investigator,” he said cautiously. “Who is this talking?”

“Mile,” I said.

“You mean Mr. Miles?”

“I said ‘Mile.’ Do you know how many feet are in a mile?”

“Certainly.”

“How many?”

“What is this, a gag?”

“Remember the number,” I said. “Five thousand, two hundred and eighty. If I call you in the future I’ll simply refer to the number — five thousand, two hundred and eighty. Now then, if I can get you all or part of the fifty grand that’s missing and hand it to you on a silver platter, what is there in it for me?”

“I don’t do that sort of business over the telephone,” he said. “And for your information, Mr. Mile, we don’t compound felonies.”

“No one’s asking you to compound a felony,” I said. “You’re facing a loss of fifty grand. What’s it worth to cut it down?”

“If the offer is legitimate,” he said, “our company has always been generous in the matter of rewards, but we certainly don’t discuss things of this sort over the telephone in this manner.”

“What do you mean, being most generous? Fifty percent?” I asked.

“Heavens, no!” he said. “That would be suicidal. We might go to twenty percent.”

“Twenty-five,” I said.

“If you have something definite to offer,” he said, “we’ll be glad to discuss the matter with you.”

“I’m making a definite offer,” I said. “Twenty-five percent of whatever is recovered.”

“If and when anything is recovered,” he said, “I would certainly not recommend going above twenty percent. That represents the highest we go as a matter of policy. Usually we give rewards of around ten percent.”

“Perhaps that’s why you have such high losses,” I said. “Remember the name, and above all, the code number five thousand, two hundred and eighty.”

I hung up, got in the agency heap and drove to the Breeze-Mount Apartment Hotel.

I had to wait about ten minutes before the taxicab deposited Elsie Brand.

I paid off the cab and sent him on his way.

“Come on, Elsie,” I said, “we’re going in.”

“What are we going to do?” she asked.

“Rent an apartment,” I said. “Get friendly with the manager. Be nice, respectable, quiet people. You’re to be particularly demure, easy to get along with.”

“What do I tell her my name is?”

“You don’t tell her,” I said. “I tell her.”

“And what do you tell her?”

“That you’re Mrs. Lam, of course.”

She said, “And I suppose you’re going to promise that if we stay in a single apartment you’ll be the soul of honor and discretion at all times.”

“Don’t be silly,” I said.

She looked at me with a flush of anger starting to stain her face.

“Therefore,” I said, “I won’t be there. I’ll be away from home. I’m just leaving on a trip. You’ll sit there for a few hours and monitor the telephone calls. If anybody asks for Evelyn Ellis you’ll pretend to misunderstand them. If you can get by acting the part of Evelyn Ellis you’ll do it. If you can’t, you’ll be very friendly over the telephone and state that Miss Ellis probably won’t be in for some time, but that you’ll try to get a message to her. You’ll definitely try to find out who’s talking but do it in a nice way so it doesn’t arouse suspicions. Be friendly and visit with them. If they’re men, your voice will be particularly seductive.”

“But why in the world should we rent an apartment?” she asked. “Good heavens, Donald, you know what will happen if Bertha finds out and—”

“In this business,” I said, “you can’t wait for the breaks. You have to make your own breaks and you have to keep moving. Come on.”

We entered the Breeze-Mount and rang the bell of the apartment marked MANAGER — MARLENE CHARLOTTE.

The woman who came out in answer to our ring was in the forties. She was a fairly big woman who had started to sag. There was an expressionless placidity about her face which made it seem she felt everything that could possibly happen had already happened.

“Yes?” she asked, looking us over appraisingly.

“I heard that you were expecting a vacancy next month,” I said.

“We have three vacancies right now,” she said.

“May we look at them?”

“Certainly,” she said, and again sized us up, this time more carefully.

Elsie said demurely, “We both work. We’ll be here nights and weekends but not during the day.”

“No children?” the manager asked.

Elsie shook her head, then let the corners of her mouth twist a bit as though she were about ready to cry. “Not any more,” she said. “No children.”

“Well, come with me,” Mrs. Charlotte said, taking some keys from the board. “I have some apartments I think you’ll like.”

The first one she showed was neat as a pin and had no telephone. The next one was a larger apartment, with no phone.

Elsie glanced at me surreptitiously and I shook my head.