Tell It To The Birds

He looked around the room. She really was a slut, he thought as he saw the used breakfast things on the table. One of them: Barlowe of course, had had eggs and bacon. The yoke encrusted plate, the smear of jam on the tablecloth, the used coffee cups by her typewriter disgusted him.

She stood watching him as he opened his briefcase and took out the gun. He wiped it carefully with his handkerchief and carrying it in his handkerchief, he put it in the wooden box he took from the drawer in the sideboard. He took five cartridges from his pocket, carefully wiped each one before putting them in the box.

"You've cleaned the gun?" she asked in a tight frightened voice.

"Of course."

"But you took six cartridges."

"Do you think he will miss one?" Anson asked, turning to ook at her.

She shuddered.

"So you did kill that man ..."

He took hold of her wrist and jerked her roughly to him.

"This is the beginning," he said, his hand sliding down the ength of her back. She stiffened and tried to pull away from urn, but he held her. "You said we would go ahead with this." lis grip tightened. "Kiss me," he said urgently. "You're in this ness with me. You can't escape from it now. Kiss me."

She hesitated, then closing her eyes, she relaxed against him. ^.s his lips met hers, he felt her shudder. Roughly he moved her round the settee, pushed her down so she lay on her back, taring up at him.

She shook her head wildly.

"No ... not now... John! No!"

Seeing his sudden change of expression, an expression that rightened her, she pressed the palms of her hands against her yes and shudderingly yielded to him.

"Tell me about yourself, Meg," Anson said some twenty linutes later. He was now sitting before the fire in the big habby armchair while Meg still lay upon the settee. "You lustn't mind if I seem curious. I want you to be careful how ou answer my questions. What I'm aiming to do is to make ure you don't land up in the gas chamber."

Meg moved uneasily.

"Why talk like that? You frighten me."

"It's better to be frightened by me than by Maddox," Anson lid. "When eventually you put in the claim for the insurance loney, Maddox will turn a searchlight on you. Even if you ave a cast iron alibi, be'll still be suspicious of you. Is there nything in your past he shouldn't know about?"

She frowned, not looking at him.

"No ... of course not!"

"You have no criminal record?"

She half sat up, her eyes angry.

"No!"

"You have never been in trouble with the police?"

She hesitated, then shrugging, she said, "Driving too fast... that's all."

"What did you do before you were married?"

"I was a receptionist at an hotel."

"What hotel?"

"The Connaught Anns in Los Angeles."

"Was it a respectable hotel? It wasn't a room by the hour and no questions asked?"

"Of course not!"

"Before that?"

Again she hesitated before saying, "I was a night club hostess."

Anson became alert.

"What did you do?"

"The usual thing; partnered men, persuaded them to buy drinks."

"Now watch this, Meg. Did you go home with them? You know what I mean."

"I didn't."

He studied her. Her eyes were now angry.

"Sure?"

"I tell you I didn't!" She was now sitting bolt upright. "Is this man going to ask me these kind of questions before he'll pay out?"

Anson shook his head.

"Oh, no. But if he doesn't like the look of your claim, he'll turn one of his smart investigators on to you. Without your knowing anything about it, he'll dig up your whole history. He'll then decide when he has your dossier in front of him if he'll fight your claim or not. If your dossier is bad, he'll fight you."

She lay back, her expression showing how worried she was.

"If I'd known it was going to be like this, I wouldn't have agreed to do it with you."

"There's still time to back out," Anson said. "You can't expect, to pick up fifty thousand dollars for nothing. You have nothing to worry about so long as you are telling the truth. What did you do before you became a night club hostess?"

"I lived with my mother," she said, not looking at him.

"You have been married nearly a year. This is vitally important, Meg. I must have the truth. While you have been Barlowe's wife, have you had a lover?"

"I've had you," Meg said and made a face at him.

"I don't mean me," Anson said, staring at her. "We've been careful, and we're going to remain careful. I mean someone else ... someone you haven't been so careful about."

"No ... there's been no one."

"Sure? If Maddox finds there has been someone, he'll go after him. There's nothing he likes better than to find out the wife of the insured husband who suddenly dies has a lover. He thrives on a situation like that."

"There's been no one."

"Would there be anyone who would know hpw you really feel about your husband? Anyone who might have overheard you quarrelling if you do quarrel? Anyone who might say you weren't happily married?"

She shook her head.

"No one ever comes here."

"Would your husband discuss you with anyone?"

She shook her head emphatically.

"No ... I'm sure of that."