The Thin Man Page 12

  “Who else did she run around with?” I asked.

  Morelli shook his head. “I don’t know. She don’t do much talking about people.”

  “She was wearing a diamond engagement ring. Know anything about it?”

  “Nothing except she didn’t get it from me. She wasn’t wearing it when I seen her.”

  “Do you think she meant to throw in with Peppier again when he got out?”

  “Maybe. She didn’t seem to worry much about him being in, but she liked to work with him all right and I guess they’d’ve teamed up again.”

  “And how about the cousin of Dick O’Brien, the skinny dark-headed lush? What became of him?”

  Morelli looked at me in surprise. “Search me.”

  Studsy returned alone. “Maybe I’m wrong,” he said as he sat down, “but I think somebody could do something with that cluck if they took hold of her right.”

  Morelli said: “By the throat.”

  Studsy grinned good-naturedly. “No. She’s trying to get somewhere. She works hard at her singing lessons and—”

  Morelli looked at his empty glass and said: “This tiger milk of yours must be doing her pipes a lot of good.” He turned his head to yell at Pete: “Hey, you with the knapsack, some more of the same. We got to sing in the choir tomorrow.”

  Pete said: “Coming up, Sheppy.” His lined gray face lost its dull apathy when Morelli spoke to him.

  An immensely fat blond man—so blond he was nearly albino—who had been sitting at Miriam’s table came over and said to me in a thin, tremulous, effeminate voice: “So you’re the party who put it to little Art Nunhei—”

  Morelli hit the fat man in his fat belly, as hard as he could without getting up. Studsy, suddenly on his feet, leaned over Morelli and smashed a big fist into the fat man’s face. I noticed, foolishly, that he still led with his right. Hunchbacked Pete came up behind the fat man and banged his empty tray down with full force on the fat man’s head. The fat man fell back, upsetting three people and a table. Both bar-tenders were with us by then. One of them hit the fat man with a blackjack as he tried to get up, knocking him forward on hands and knees, the other put a hand down inside the fat man’s collar in back, twisting the collar to choke him. With Morelli’s help they got the fat man to his feet and hustled him out.

  Pete looked after them and sucked a tooth. “That god-damned Sparrow,” he explained to me, “you can’t take no chances on him when he’s drinking.”

  Studsy was at the next table, the one that had been upset, helping people pick up themselves and their possessions. “That’s bad,” he was saying, “bad for business, but where you going to draw the line? I ain’t running a dive, but I ain’t trying to run a young ladies’ seminary neither.”

  Dorothy was pale, frightened; Nora wide-eyed and amazed. “It’s a madhouse,” she said. “What’d they do that for?”

  “You know as much about it as I do,” I told her.

  Morelli and the bar-tenders came in again, looking pretty pleased with themselves. Morelli and Studsy returned to their seats at our table. “You boys are impulsive,” I said.

  Studsy repeated, “Impulsive,” and laughed, “Ha-ha-ha.”

  Morelli was serious. “Any time that guy starts anything, you got to start it first. It’s too late when he gets going. We seen him like that before, ain’t we, Studsy?”

  “Like what?” I asked. “He hadn’t done anything.”

  “He hadn’t, all right,” Morelli said slowly, “but it’s a kind of feeling you get about him sometimes. Ain’t that right, Studsy?”

  Studsy said: “Uh-huh, he’s hysterical.”

  23

  It was about two o’clock when we said goodnight to Studsy and Morelli and left the Pigiron Club. Dorothy slumped down in her corner of the taxicab and said: “I’m going to be sick. I know I am.” She sounded as if she was telling the truth.

  Nora said: “That booze.” She put her head on my shoulder. “Your wife is drunk, Nicky. Listen, you’ve got to tell me what happened—everything. Not now, tomorrow. I don’t understand a thing that was said or a thing that was done. They’re marvelous.”

  Dorothy said: “Listen, I can’t go to Aunt Alice’s like this. She’d have a fit.”

  Nora said: “They oughtn’t’ve hit that fat man like that, though it must’ve been funny in a cruel way.”

  Dorothy said: “I suppose I’d better go to Mamma’s.”

  Nora said: “Erysipelas hasn’t got anything to do with ears. What’s a lug, Nicky?”

  “An ear.”

  Dorothy said: “Aunt Alice would have to see me because I forgot the key and I’d have to wake her up.”

  Nora said: “I love you, Nicky, because you smell nice and know such fascinating people.”

  Dorothy said: “It’s not much out of your way to drop me at Mamma’s, is it?”

  I said, “No,” and gave the driver Mimi’s address.

  Nora said: “Come home with us.”

  Dorothy said: “No—o, I’d better not.”

  Nora asked, “Why not?” and Dorothy said, “Well, I don’t think I ought to,” and that kind of thing went on until the taxicab stopped at the Courtland.

  I got out and helped Dorothy out. She leaned heavily on my arm. “Please come up, just for a minute.”

  Nora said, “Just for a minute,” and got out of the taxicab.

  I told the driver to wait. We went upstairs. Dorothy rang the bell. Gilbert, in pyjamas and bathrobe, opened the door. He raised one hand in a warning gesture and said in a low voice: “The police are here.”

  Mimi’s voice came from the living-room: “Who is it, Gil?”

  “Mr. and Mrs. Charles and Dorothy.”

  Mimi came to meet us as we went in. “I never was so glad to see anybody. I just didn’t know which way to turn.” She had on a pinkish satin robe over a pinkish silk nightgown, and her face was pink, and by no means unhappy. She ignored Dorothy, squeezed one of Nora’s hands, one of mine. “Now I’m going to stop worrying and leave it all up to you, Nick. You’ll have to tell the foolish little woman what to do.”

  Dorothy, behind me, said, “Balls!” under her breath, but with a lot of feeling.

  Mimi did not show that she had heard her daughter. Still holding our hands, she drew us back towards the living-room, chattering: “You know Lieutenant Guild. He’s been very nice, but I’m sure I must have tried his patience. I’ve been so—well—I mean I’ve been so bewildered. But now you’re here and—” We went into the living-room.

  Guild said, “Hello,” to me and, “Good evening, ma’am,” to Nora. The man with him, the one he had called Andy and who had helped him search our rooms the morning of Morelli’s visit, nodded and grunted at us.

  “What’s up?” I asked.

  Guild looked at Mimi out of the corners of his eyes, then at me, and said: “The Boston police found Jorgensen or Rosewater or whatever you want to call him at his first wife’s place and asked him some questions for us. The chief answer seems to be he don’t have anything to do with Julia Wolf getting killed or not getting killed and Mrs. Jorgensen can prove it because she’s been holding out what amounts to the goods on Wynant.” His eyes slid sidewise in their sockets to focus on Mimi again. “The lady kind of don’t want to say yes and kind of don’t want to say no. To tell you the truth, Mr. Charles, I don’t know what to make of her in a lot of ways.”

  I could understand that. I said, “She’s probably frightened,” and Mimi tried to look frightened. “Has he been divorced from the first wife?”

  “Not according to the first wife.”

  Mimi said: “She’s lying, I bet.”

  I said: “Sh-h-h. Is he coming back to New York?”

  “It looks like he’s going to make us extradite him if we want him. Boston says he’s squawking his head off for a lawyer.”

  “Do you want him that bad?”

  Guild moved his big shoulders. “If bringing him back’ll help us on this murder. I don’t care much ab
out any of the old charges or the bigamy. I never believe in hounding a man over things that are none of my business.”

  I asked Mimi: “Well?”

  “Can I talk to you alone?”

  I looked at Guild, who said: “Anything that’ll help.”

  Dorothy touched my arm. “Nick, listen to me first. I—” She broke off. Everybody was staring at her.

  “What?” I asked.

  “I—I wanted to talk to you first.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “I mean alone,” she said.

  I patted her hand. “Afterwards.”

  Mimi led me into her bedroom and carefully shut the door. I sat on the bed and lit a cigarette. Mimi leaned back against the door and smiled at me very gently and trustingly. Half a minute passed that way.

  Then she said, “You do like me, Nick,” and when I said nothing she asked, “Don’t you?”

  “No.”

  She laughed and came away from the door. “You mean you don’t approve of me.” She sat on the bed beside me. “But you do like me well enough to help me?”

  “That depends.”

  “Depends on wha—”

  The door opened and Dorothy came in: “Nick, I’ve got to—”

  Mimi jumped up and confronted her daughter. “Get out of here,” she said through her teeth.

  Dorothy flinched, but she said: “I won’t. You’re not going to make a—”

  Mimi slashed Dorothy across the mouth with the back of her right hand. “Get out of here.”

  Dorothy screamed and put a hand to her mouth. Holding it there, holding her wide frightened eyes on Mimi’s face, she backed out of the room. Mimi shut the door again.

  I said: “You must come over to our place some time and bring your little white whips.”

  She did not seem to hear me. Her eyes were heavy, brooding, and her lips were thrust out a little in a half-smile, and when she spoke, her voice seemed heavier, throatier, than usual. “My daughter’s in love with you.”

  “Nonsense.”

  “She is and she’s jealous of me. She had absolute spasms whenever I get within ten feet of you.” She spoke as if thinking of something else.

  “Nonsense. Maybe she’s got a little hangover from that crush she had on me when she was twelve, but that’s all it is.”

  Mimi shook her head. “You’re wrong, but never mind.” She sat down on the bed beside me again. “You’ve got to help me out of this. I—”

  “Sure,” I said. “You’re a delicate fleur that needs a great big man’s protection.”

  “Oh, that?” She waved a hand at the door through which Dorothy had gone. “You’re surely not getting—Why, it’s nothing you haven’t heard about before—and seen and done, for that matter. It’s nothing to worry you.” She smiled as before with heavy, brooding eyes, and lips thrust out a little. “If you want Dorry, take her, but don’t get sentimental about it. But never mind that. Of course I’m not a delicate fleur. You never thought I was.”

  “No,” I agreed.

  “Well, then,” she said with an air of finality.

  “Well then what?”

  “Stop being so damned coquettish,” she said. “You know what I mean. You understand me as well as I understand you.”

  “Just about, but you’ve been doing the coquetting ever since—”

  “I know. That was a game. I’m not playing now. That son of a bitch made a fool of me, Nick, an out and out fool, and now he’s in trouble and expects me to help him. I’ll help him.” She put a hand on my knee and her pointed nails dug into my flesh. “The police, they don’t believe me. How can I make them believe that he’s lying, that I know nothing more than I’ve told them about the murder?”

  “You probably can’t,” I said slowly, “especially since Jorgensen’s only repeating what you told me a few hours ago.”

  She caught her breath, and her nails dug into me again. “Did you tell them that?”

  “Not yet.” I took her hand off my knee.

  She sighed with relief. “And of course you won’t tell them now, will you?”

  “Why not?”

  “Because it’s a lie. He lied and I lied. I didn’t find anything, anything at all.”

  I said: “We’re back where we were earlier, and I believe you just as much now as I did then. What happened to those new terms we were on? You understanding me, me understanding you, no coquetting, no games, no playing.”

  She slapped my hand lightly. “All right. I did find something—not much, but something—and I’m not going to give it up to help that son of a bitch. You can understand how I feel about it, Nick. You’d feel the same–”

  “Maybe,” I said, “but the way it stands, I’ve got no reason for putting in with you. Your Chris is no enemy of mine. I’ve got nothing to gain by helping you frame him.”

  She sighed. “I’ve been thinking about that a lot. I don’t suppose what money I could give you would mean much to you now”—she smiled crookedly—“nor my beautiful white body. But aren’t you interested in saving Clyde?”

  “Not necessarily.”

  She laughed at that. “I don’t know what that means.”

  “It might mean I don’t think he needs saving. The police haven’t got much on him. He’s screwy, he was in town the day Julia was killed, and she had been gypping him. That’s not enough to arrest him on.”

  She laughed again. “But with my contribution?”

  “I don’t know. What is it?” I asked, and went on without waiting for the answer I did not expect. “Whatever it is, you’re being a sap, Mimi. You’ve got Chris cold on bigamy. Sock that to him. There’s no—”

  She smiled sweetly and said: “But I am holding that in reserve to use after this if he—”

  “If he gets past the murder charge, huh? Well, it won’t work out that way, lady. You can get him about three days in jail. By that time the District Attorney will have questioned him and checked up on him enough to know that he didn’t kill Julia and that you’ve been making a chump of the D. A., and when you spring your little bigamy charge the D. A. will tell you to go jump in the lake, and he’ll refuse to prosecute.”

  “But he can’t do that, Nick.”

  “Can and will,” I assured her, “and if he can dig up proof that you’re holding out something he’ll make it as tough for you as he can.”

  She chewed her lower lip, asked: “You’re being honest with me?”

  “I’m telling you exactly what’ll happen, unless district attorneys have changed a lot since my day.”

  She chewed her lip some more. “I don’t want him to get off,” she said presently, “and I don’t want to get into any trouble myself.” She looked up at me. “If you’re lying to me, Nick …”

  “There’s nothing you can do about it except believe me or disbelieve me.”

  She smiled and put a hand on my cheek and kissed me on the mouth and stood up. “You’re such a bastard. Well, I’m going to believe you.” She walked down to the other end of the room and back again. Her eyes were shiny, her face pleasantly excited.

  “I’ll call Guild,” I said.

  “No, wait. I’d rather—I’d rather see what you think of it first.”

  “All right, but no clowning.”

  “You’re certainly afraid of your shadow,” she said, “but don’t worry, I’m not going to play any tricks on you.”

  I said that would be swell and how about showing me whatever she had to show me. “The others will be getting restless.”

  She went around the bed to a closet, opened the door, pushed some clothes aside, and put a hand among other clothes behind them. “That’s funny,” she said.

  “Funny?” I stood up. “It’s a panic. It’ll have Guild rolling on the floor.” I started towards the door.

  “Don’t be so bad-tempered,” she said. “I’ve got it.” She turned to me holding a wadded handkerchief in her hand. As I approached, she opened the handkerchief to show me a three-inch length of watch-chain, broken a
t one end, attached at the other to a small gold knife. The handkerchief was a woman’s and there were brown stains on it.

  “Well?” I asked.

  “It was in her hand and I saw it when they left me with her and I knew it was Clyde’s, so I took it.”

  “You’re sure it’s his?”

  “Yes,” she said impatiently. “See, they’re gold, silver, and copper links. He had it made out of the first batches of metal that came through that smelting process he invented. Anybody who knows him at all well can identify it—there can’t be another like it.” She turned the knife over to let me see the C M W engraved in it. “They’re his initials. I never saw the knife before, but I’d know the chain anywhere. Clyde’s worn it for years.”

  “Did you remember it well enough that you could’ve described it without seeing it again?”

  “Of course.”

  “Is that your handkerchief?”

  “Yes.”

  “And the stain on it’s blood?”

  “Yes. The chain was in her hand—I told you—and there was some blood on them.” She frowned at me. “Don’t you— You act as if you don’t believe me.”

  “Not exactly,” I said, “but I think you ought to be sure you’re telling your story straight this time.”

  She stamped her foot. “You’re—” She laughed and anger went out of her face. “You can be the most annoying man. I’m telling the truth now, Nick. I’ve told you everything that happened exactly as it happened.”

  “I hope so. It’s about time. You’re sure Julia didn’t come to enough to say anything while you were alone with her?”

  “You’re trying to make me mad again. Of course I’m sure.”

  “All right,” I said. “Wait here. I’ll get Guild, but if you tell him the chain was in Julia’s hand and she wasn’t dead yet he’s going to wonder whether you didn’t have to rough her up a little to get it away from her.”