Kept Women Can’t Quit

“All right, give me the additional twenty,” he said.

I gave him the twenty.

We got to the hotel and I barged in, carrying the suitcases, with my head down and my shoulders forward as though the suitcases were plenty heavy.

Chris walked around behind the clerk’s desk, said something to the clerk, received a nod in return, and came back carrying a passkey which was chained to a wide metal loop.

He handed me the passkey and turned away.

I went to the elevators, up to the seventh floor, got off the elevator and started knocking on doors.

The first door I tried brought a big man in shirt-sleeves and in his stocking feet, to the door.

“You phone the bell captain to send these suitcases up here?” I asked.

He said, “No,” and closed the door, hard.

I tried two more rooms and got turned down on both occasions. There was no answer at the third room. I made sure no one was going to answer, then I fitted the passkey and opened the door.

The bed was made up, the towels were all neat, there was no baggage in the room. It was an unoccupied room.

I parked the suitcases and the passkey, made certain that the catch on the door was fixed so it would remain unlocked, went out into the corridor and walked down to Evelyn Ellis’ room.

I listened for a moment to make certain that she didn’t have company. I couldn’t hear any voices.

I tapped on the door.

Evelyn opened the door.

She was all dolled up in filmy stuff that made a sort of aura around a naked body as she stood in the doorway with the bright light behind her. I could see she’d fixed herself up in her most seductive garb, and she’d put in a lot of time being certain that it was sufficiently revealing. With the light behind her it was quite a sight. She evidently was expecting someone she wanted to impress.

“You!” she said, and started to slam the door.

I lowered a shoulder, charged the door, shot it out of her hand, and walked in.

She looked at me with concentrated venom. “So now you’re a bell boy! Well, Mr. Lam, you’re getting out, and getting out now,” she said. “If you don’t, I’ll call—”

“The police again?” I asked. “That would be interesting.”

“Damn you!” she said.

I said, “Sit down, Evelyn. You may as well take it easy. The Chinese have a saying, you know, about things that are inevitable and about relaxation.”

“You’d be surprised how many times I’ve heard that,” she said.

I walked over to a chair and sat down. I said, “Let’s try putting things together. Who’s your friend in the Mizukaido Importing Company?”

She said, “I could spit on you! You are the most contemptible, snooping—”

I said, “Don’t go flying off the handle before you know what I’m here for. I’m trying to help you out and tearing off your clothes won’t work this time. Whether you know it or not, you’re on the spot.”

“What do you mean, on the spot?”

I said, “My wife and I rented the apartment in Los Angeles after you moved out. I put my trunk in the garage. I can prove that you deliberately switched trunks so that you could trap Standley Downer into picking up my trunk instead of his. Then you had his trunk sent to you. You found a secret compartment in it, got fifty grand out of it, and then had no further use for Standley Downer.

“You were working with the Mizukaido Importing Company in Chicago. You met Carl Christopher. He was a big shot in the hardware industry. He took an interest in you. You started selling him things. Then Jasper Diggs Calhoun, the public relations man, got the idea of a Miss American Hardware to show cheesecake and pulchritudinous curves for a publicity background to advertise the convention.

“I imagine Mr. Christopher was either on the nominating committee or else he was the one who did the selecting.

“He selected you. It was through his influence you got the job and got the publicity. You have taken various occasions and various methods of expressing gratitude.”

“All right,” she said. “So what? I had the winning figure, didn’t I?”

“How would I know?” I asked.

She looked me over carefully, speculatively, thoughtfully. “Want to take a look?” she asked challengingly. She stood up and started fumbling with a fastener someplace. Then she paused seductively. “Well, Donald?”

“Are you trying to change the subject?” I asked.

“Are you?” she wanted to know.

It was at that moment the door, which had not been fully closed, was pushed open and Bertha Cool, attired in a gray business suit, came striding into the room.

“Never mind, dearie,” she said. “Keep your clothes on. You’re not dealing with a man now. You’re going to talk to me.”

“Who are you, and what are you doing in here?” Evelyn demanded. “How dare you come striding in here in this way? How dare you?—”

Bertha reached out, put a hand on Evelyn’s chest and gave a push. Evelyn came down on the davenport so hard I saw her head jar.

“Don’t pull that line with me,” Bertha said. “I don’t let trollops get upstage with me.”

Bertha turned to me. “I was outside the door long enough to hear your summary of the situation. Now what the hell are you after?”