Kept Women Can’t Quit

“I knew that he’d get in touch with me as soon as the coast was clear and I didn’t want him to until the coast was clear.”

“I understand the police think he was killed right around ten o’clock in the morning.”

“The police haven’t confided in me,” she said.

“How did you know he had my trunk?”

“The police told me. They checked the cleaning marks on the clothing that was in there.”

“I thought they didn’t confide in you.”

“They didn’t. They were questioning me. They wanted to know everything I knew about you.”

“What did you tell them?”

“All I knew.”

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

I said, “This isn’t going to do, Evelyn. You knew that he was here the minute he arrived at the hotel. You went up to join him in the suite. You were there when he opened the trunk, and then you found that it wasn’t his trunk and that there wasn’t any money.

“This man was pretty hot, otherwise he’d have carried the money in a money belt. When a man has fifty grand and is so afraid of being held up for it that he puts it in a trunk he has to be pretty hot.

“Now, I imagine at about the time he opened the trunk he told you to get down to the Southern Pacific Depot and tell them there’d been a mistake. You knew what his trunk looked like and you were to identify his trunk, tell them you’d put up a bond or anything that was required but they weren’t to deliver that trunk to anyone else. Then you were to use a little bribery, a little sex appeal, and perhaps a little pull with some of the executives and try and get possession of the trunk.

“I have an idea you may have had a description of me. Anyway, you got there and became pretty well convinced that the trunk was gone, so then you started looking me up.”

She yawned.

“Well?” I asked at length, as silence descended on the room.

She said, “I’m ready to have you go now.”

“Oh, are you?” I said. “Suppose I’m not ready to go now?”

She said, “I can call the house dick or I can call the police.”

She yawned once more and patted her lips with polite fingers to mask the yawn.

“I may do a little calling myself,” I said.

“Please do, Donald. Any time. The police will be very glad.”

“What are you going to do now?” I asked.

“Go to bed — alone.”

“I mean, do you have a job or—?”

She got up, walked to the door and held it open.

I settled myself in a chair, picked up a copy of Hardware Age that was on the table and started to read.

Evelyn stood there by the door for a few seconds, then came back, closed the door, said, “All right, if I can’t do it the easy way, I’ll do it the hard way.”

“Attagirl!” I said. “I’m waiting for you to call the police.”

“I will,” she promised, “but I have a few things to do first.”

She put her hand to the top of the pajamas and jerked down. A button popped and then a jagged tear appeared in the silk.

She devoted her attention to the lower part of the pajamas. “I always like to be able to show evidence of attempted assault,” she said. “It makes a better impression on a jury.”

I got up, took the magazine with me and made for the door.

“I thought you’d see things my way,” she said. “And, by the way,” she called after me, “send me a new pair of pajamas, Donald. You’ve ruined these.”

I didn’t even stop to look back.

I heard her throaty laugh and then the sound of the closing door.

I stopped by the clerk’s desk and said, “I thought perhaps you’d like to have one of my calling cards.”

I handed him a folded ten-dollar bill.

“It’s certainly a pleasure to see you, Mr. Ten Bucks,” he said. “You should show up more often. What can I do for you?”

“How many switchboard operators on daytimes?” I asked.

“What do you mean by daytimes?”

“Nine o’clock in the morning.”

“Two.”

“House calls,” I said. “How are they divided? Any particular division?”

“Oh, yes. In periods of normal activity we divide at the sixth floor. The switchboard is so arranged that calls from rooms from the sixth floor on down are taken by the girl on the left and calls from the seventh floor on up are taken by the girl on the right.”

“The girl on the right, mornings,” I said, “is...?”

He said, “We wouldn’t want to have any scandal; that is, no indication that girls listened in on conversations and divulged what they heard.”

“Certainly not,” I said. “You couldn’t afford that and I couldn’t afford it. It would be a crime. Now, the girl on the right — you have her name and perhaps her address?”

“That would be frowned upon,” he said.

“I just want to talk with her for a while.”

“You understand the hotel has been placed in a very embarrassing position on account of the murder.”

“I understand,” I said. “I wouldn’t want to do anything that would cause any trouble or expose the hotel to any disadvantageous publicity.”

As he continued to size me up, I added, “I’m the soul of discretion.”

He scribbled a name and address on a piece of paper, pushed it face down across the counter, reached out and shook hands, and said, “It was a real pleasure to meet you. If you need anything up here again, remember that it’s a pleasure to be of service.”

“Thanks,” I told him. “I’ll remember.”