Kept Women Can’t Quit

He grinned. “I could have but I didn’t. I let the plain-clothes officer who had been interrogating her this afternoon take her home. She was thrilled to death. She says television is tame compared with real life — how’s that for a thrill?”

“All right,” I said. “What plans have you got for me?”

“What plans have you got for you?” he asked.

“It depends on what I can do.”

“I don’t want you tossing monkey wrenches in the machinery. If you do, you’re going to get picked up.”

“How about Evelyn Ellis? Did you find the rest of the carving set?”

He said, “Don’t be silly. Things only work out that easy for you gifted amateurs. For your information, Evelyn says she gave out sets containing these new knives to all of the accredited buyers who stopped by the booth of Christopher, Crowder and Doyle. She says she didn’t take one for herself, that she wasn’t housekeeping at the time and wanted to know how we thought a young woman of her dimensions could conceal a carving set in a bathing suit.”

“She could have wrapped it up and carried it out under her arm,” I said. “She had a purse, didn’t she?”

“I know,” Hobart said. “We’re investigating all that. Don’t worry, Lam. You don’t need to tell us how to investigate a homicide. You wanted to know what we found and I told you what we found — nothing.”

“I can’t talk with Evelyn Ellis?”

Hobart’s face got hard. “Listen, Lam,” he said, “get this and get it straight. You’re in San Francisco. You can go to a hotel. You can go to a show. You can go to a restaurant. You can pick up a jane. You can have a good time. You can get drunk. But if you go near the Happy Daze Camera Company, if you try to call on Evelyn Ellis, or if you hang around that hotel where the murder was committed, you’re going to be thrown into the cooler. And, so help me, you’ll stay there until we get this thing lined up.”

“Did it ever occur to you,” I said, “that I’m working on a job? That I have a responsibility to a client? That someone has highjacked me out of fifty grand and—”

“Everything has occurred to me,” Hobart said wearily. “Everything has occurred to me fifty or sixty times and it keeps occurring to me. I’m trying to unscramble a mess. I don’t want your fine Italian hand lousing it up.”

“Can I go back to Los Angeles?”

“You can, but it wouldn’t be advisable. Sellers isn’t in a particularly jovial mood.”

I said, “There’s a Hazel Clune or a Hazel Downer that—”

“We know all about her,” Hobart said. “We’ve had her under surveillance. She was up here the night before the murder. She’s up here now.”

“Now?”

He nodded.

“Where?”

He started to shake his head. Then suddenly his eyes narrowed. I could see him toying with an idea. “Why do you want to know?” he asked.

“I’m doing a job for her. I can’t conscientiously charge her per diem while I’m sitting on my fanny in an interrogation room in San Francisco Headquarters.”

“What would you rather do, sleep in a cell or in a hotel?” Hobart asked. “Because I’ve changed my mind about leaving you free to run around.”

“Is that a gag?”

“It’s a question.”

“The answer,” I said, “will probably surprise you. I prefer to sleep in a hotel.”

“I think it can be arranged,” Hobart said, “but you’ll have to co-operate.”

“What do you mean, co-operate?”

“We’ll get you a room in a hotel. There will be a telephone in that room but you’re not going to use it for any outside calls. There’s a good restaurant in the hotel with room service and you can order anything sent up that you want to eat. We’ll have the newspapers in there and some magazines. You can read. There’ll be a television in there. You can watch television. You can go to bed. You can’t try to leave the place because we’ll know it if you do, and that would be too bad — for you.”

“You mean I’ll be in custody?”

“Not exactly. You’ll be in the charge of police. You’ll be left on your own, but you won’t be free to leave without permission.”

“How long do I have to stay there?”

“All night tonight, at least. Perhaps we can let you go in the morning.”

“My partner will be worried about me.”

“Your partner is worried sick about you,” Hobart said. “Your office has been frantically trying to get you every place they could possibly think of. They’ve even called here at Headquarters.”

“What did you tell them?”

“We told them we weren’t holding any Donald Lam for anything. We aren’t.”

“You are holding me.”

“But not for any particular charge. We’re just holding you because you want to co-operate with us.”

“Ernestine is going to be worrying about me,” I said.

“Ernestine is on Cloud Nine,” Hobart said. “She’s co-operating with the police now and the plain-clothes man who’s up there in the apartment with her, keeping an eye on things, is a fairly good-looking bachelor who has corner to the conclusion she’s a pretty sensible, level-headed sort of girl. In fact, they’re rather hitting it off. I wouldn’t be surprised if he isn’t beating your time, Lam. What’s more, he’s available and you’re not.”

“Where is this hotel?” I asked.

“The Ocean Beach,” he said. “Want to stay there or here?”

“There.”