“Stop it!” she screamed. “Stop it! I can’t stand it.”

  “Why not?”

  “You’re tearing my heart to ribbons!”

  “You’re goofy,” I told her. “I’m talking sense. Cut out the damn sentimentalism and get down to bedrock.”

  “Oh, it’s absolutely impossible! It’s out of the question. I couldn’t deceive Philip that way.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because it would be—it would be unfair.”

  “No, it wouldn’t. You’ve already done the unfair part. This would be just straightening it out. You should see the way Philip looks, the lines of suffering about his mouth, the shadows under his eyes, the hollow cheeks, the—”

  “Will you please stop?”

  “Not until you promise me to do what I’ve outlined.”

  “But I can’t do it.”

  “Why not?”

  “Well, for one thing, there’s Sidney Jannix. Philip and I couldn’t be married because—”

  “Because what?”

  “Because I’m a married woman.”

  I said, “No, you’re not. You’re a widow.”

  “I’m—what?”

  “A widow.”

  “Then it wasn’t true, that letter from the Framley girl? Sidney isn’t living? He—”

  “He was at the time the letter was written. He isn’t now.” She studied me for a few seconds. “Look here,” she said, “if this is some kind of a racket—”

  “It isn’t. I’ve come prepared to prove what I’m saying.”

  I took from my pocket the piece I’d cut from the Las Vegas newspaper and handed it to her. “Helen Framley’s boy friend,” I said, “was Sidney Jannix. You’re not married to anyone. You’re a widow.”

  She read it through carefully. I watched her eyes moving back and forth as she shifted them from one line to the other. After a while, they quit moving, but she kept them focused on the paper, pretending still to be reading, gaining time to think before she had to look up and face the situation.

  Abruptly she looked up at me. “He was murdered then?”

  “Yes.”

  “Who— Who did it?”

  “They don’t know.”

  “But you know, don’t you?”

  “I have an idea.”

  Her eyes shifted again. She pulled her lower lip in under her teeth, moved it slowly while she made biting motions. “Have you been employed to solve the murder?” she asked abruptly.

  “No.”

  “Would you—well, if you knew who did it, would you necessarily have to—”

  “No.”

  Abruptly she gave me her hand. “Mr. Lam,” she said, “I think you’re wonderful.”

  “And you’ll do what I ask you to?”

  “yes.”

  “All right, remember you’ve had this apartment as Mrs. Sidney Jannix. You don’t want to have any connection with this apartment. They must never be able to trace you to it. That would be fatal. Clean out of here. Ship your baggage or buy a ticket to San Francisco, check your baggage, and have the baggage checks in your purse. I suppose Whitewell gave you money enough to see you through, didn’t he?”

  “Yes. He insisted that I accept that so that I could leave all of my own money behind when I left. That was a part of the stage setting.”

  “If Philip had used his brain,” I said, “that would have been the one clue which would have convinced him your disappearance had been planned in advance and financed. All right now, clear out of here. I want it so that no one can ever connect you with this apartment. Go out on the streets and start wandering around. Find a policeman. Ask him what town this is. Keep doing goofy things until someone picks you up, but whatever you do, don’t take a drink of anything.”

  “Why?”

  “Because if you have liquor on your breath, they’ll throw you in as a drunk. If you’re cold sober, and still act goofy, they’ll call in a doctor. The doctor may try to trap you. He may smell a rat. You’ve got to carry it through. Think you can do it?”

  “I can try. I’d do anything.”

  “Luck to you,” I said, and shook hands with her again. “Where are you going?”

  “I’m going to wait until you land in the hospital, and then I’m going to discover you. After that, I’m going to Las Vegas and report to Whitewell.”

  She said, “You’re giving me a swell break, aren’t you?” I said, “I see no reason for throwing you overboard if I can bring the ship into port.”

  Her eyes were searching mine, and she was smiling somewhat wistfully. “You’re trying to be tough and hard-boiled —and you’re just a romanticist at heart. You remind me of Philip.”

  I started for the door. “Okay, try and be in the hospital by dark.”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  I walked down the stairs and out to the street. The high elevation gave the shadows a slightly purplish hue. All about me the life of Reno flowed by in a steady stream. Reno claims to be the biggest little city in the world, and it might also claim to be the most distinctive. There’s an individuality about Reno which hits you right between the eyes: cowpunchers clumping along the sidewalks in high-heeled riding-boots, disillusioned, bitter women waiting for their period of residence to expire, voluptuous cuties who are playing tag with life, and have dropped in on Reno during a period of transition, boldly looking for some temporary masculine contacts and not being overly particular. Gamblers rub elbows with tourists. Cowpunchers pass the time of day with the owners of dude ranches. Sunburned vacationists, enjoying the healthful climate, mingle with pale-faced tourists who are gawking about at the sights of the divorce capital.

  I wanted a few moments in which to think things out before I went back to the cabin. I drifted with the crowd through the doors of one of the more popular casinos, stood in a corner absently watching the expressions of the faces grouped around the wheel of fortune. Behind me, I could hear the steady whir of a slot machine. Intermittently, there’d be the tinkle of coins spilling into the cup.

  I turned around to look.

  Helen Framley, her back turned toward me, was busily engaged in milking one of the two-bit machines. I walked quietly to the door and out into the street.

  Chapter Fifteen

  HELEN FRAMLEY came breezing into the cabin. “Gosh, I’m hungry. Anything to eat in the place?”

  “Coming up right away,” Louie said. “I’ve got some Spanish beans in the oven, keeping warm. I’ve had them simmering all day. Wait until you taste them.”

  “Boiled beans?” she asked.

  “Not exactly. You boil ‘em, then fry ‘em, and mash ‘em up into a meal with a little garlic. Don’t tell me you’ve never tasted Mexican fried beans.”

  “No, but they sound good.”

  “I’ll have ‘em ready in just a jiffy.”

  Louie went out into the kitchen to busy himself over the stove.

  Helen said to me very casually, “Donald, you were asking me about money. How are you fixed on cash?”

  “I can get by.”

  “I don’t believe it. How many traveler’s checks have you got?”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll get along.”

  “Let me see.”

  “I tell you, I’m all right.”

  “Come on, let me see. Where’s the book of checks?”

  I took out the book. There were three twenty-dollar checks left.

  She laughed. “Chicken feed,” she said, “for the expenses you’re carrying. Listen, I want to pay some of this.”

  “Not a chance.”

  “Don’t kid me. I’m dough-heavy, and I’m going to contribute. Try and stop me.”

  She opened her purse, pulled out a roll of bills, peeled off three twenties which she put back in her purse and tossed the balance over to me.

  I shook my head.

  “All right then, it’s a loan,” she said. “You can pay it back.”

  “How much is in there?”

  “I don’t know. Three or four hundred dollars. Count it.” I counted it. There was four hundred and fifty dollars in the roll.

  “Where’d you get it?” I asked.

  “Oh, I had it in my purse. Remember, I had the roll when Pug and I came to a parting of the ways.”

  I put the money in my pocket. I didn’t say anything about having seen her in. the casino.

  After dinner we drove uptown and took in an early movie. Louie seemed to be feeling very much himself. Helen didn’t talk much. She had the quiet of calm contentment about her.

  On the way home, she sang little snatches of popular tunes, and when we arrived at the cabin, had us stop to stand outside the door and look up at the stars. She said suddenly, “I know, of course, it’s going to end. I’m afraid it’s going to end soon, but it’s grand while it’s lasting, isn’t it, Louie?”

  Louie retorted, “Are you asking me? You know the way we’re getting along, it seems like we all belong to the same lodge.”

  We laughed then and went inside.

  I waited until Helen was in the shower, getting ready for bed, then said, “I think I’d better send a telegram, Louie. I’m going to run back uptown. Don’t wait up for me, and tell Helen it may be an hour or so because I have to wait for a reply.”

  I made my voice sound casual, and it registered with Louie.

  - , “Okay, buddy,” he said. “Don’t wander down any darkalleys, and if anybody gets tough with you, remember the old Hazen shift. Give ‘em the old one-two, and when you hit, remember to follow through.”

  “I’ll remember,” I assured him and slipped quietly out of the door and into the car.

  Back uptown, I made a round of the hospitals. I was gravely professional and very casual—just routine leg-work, giving my card to the attendant at the desk and explaining that I was looking fora person who had disappeared, that there was a chance it was amnesia. If they had any amnesia cases, would they let me know.

  “We had a case come in about half an hour ago,” I was told when I stopped at the second hospital. “A young woman—”

  I pulled the pictures of Corla Burke from my pocket. “Would she answer this description?” I asked.

  “I don’t know. I haven’t seen her. But I’ll call the floor nurse.”

  A few moments later, a stiffly starched nurse looked me over suspiciously, then looked down at the pictures and registered excitement. “Why, that’s the girl!” she exclaimed.

  “You’re certain? We can’t afford to have any mistake.”

  “No. There’s no question it’s the same one. Who is she?”

  Instantly I became cautious. “I’m working for a client,” I said. “I can’t divulge information until I’ve consulted that client, but it’s an interesting case. She disappeared almost on the eve of her wedding—overtaxed nerves. May I see her?”

  “I’d have to ask the doctor.”

  I said; “Well, if you’re absolutely certain it’s the same person, we won’t wait for any red tape. She doesn’t know me, anyway. I’ll get in touch with my client.”

  “But,” the nurse said, “perhaps you could restore her memory by asking her questions, if you know who she is.”

  “I’d prefer not to take that chance. I’d rather let my client get in touch with the doctor.”

  “That may be better,” the nurse said dubiously, “but I’ll want your name and address.” - I gave her my card. The nurse at the desk said, “I already have Mr. Lam’s business address.”

  I left the hospital, climbed in the jalopy and went out to the cabin. Helen Framley was sitting on the sofa in pajamas and kimono.

  “Why aren’t you in bed?”

  “I’m waiting up. You knew you were going back uptown all the time, didn’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  She studied my face for several seconds, then she said, “it’s all right, Donald. It’s breaking up. I thought perhaps it was going to. You don’t need to beat around the bush. When do we leave?”

  I said, “I’ve got to catch a plane to Las Vegas. I should be back by morning.”

  “Want me to drive you to the airport?”

  “Louie can do it.”

  “I’d rather.”

  “All right,” I said.

  She walked into her bedroom, chin up, shoulders jaunty. Louie came out and asked, “What is it?”

  I said, “Louie, I want you to listen to me. This is perhaps one of the most important things you ever tackled in your life.”

  “What?”

  “Keep an eye on Helen.”

  He showed surprise. “What about her? You don’t think she’s two-timing—”

  “I mean keep an eye on her, protect her. I’m going to be gone tonight, but from now on don’t ever let her out of your sight.”

  “Why? What’s the matter?”

  I said, “She’s in danger.” -“Of what?”

  “Murder.”

  His filmed eyes became suddenly animated. “Buddy,” he said, “you can count on me.”

  We shook hands.

  Helen emerged from her bedroom, buttoning the sleeves of her blouse. She turned her neck to me, said, “Button me up the back, will you?”

  I caught the snaps at the neck of her blouse, helped her into her coat. She turned slowly around as I raised the coat around her neck so that she was in my arms. Her eyes looked up into mine. Her lips were half parted.

  “Yes,” she said as I looked down at her.

  I kissed her, felt the circle of her lips clinging to mine, then she drew away.

  “All right, Donald, let’s go.”

  Louie said, “I’ll go along and drive the car back in case of a puncture.”

  She looked at him and shook her head.

  Louie looked at me.

  “It’s all right now,” I said, “but after she gets back, remember.”

  He nodded.

  “What are you two talking about?”

  “I told Louie to keep an eye on you and take care of you.”

  Her eyes showed she was hurt. “You didn’t have to do that, Donald.”

  “It isn’t on that account,” I said. “It’s-something else.”

  “What?”

  “Just something. I can tell you more about it tomorrow.”

  She didn’t ask any more questions, simply got in the car and started the motor. Halfway to the airport, she said, “Please understand one thing, Donald. You don’t have to explain anything to me.”

  I placed my hand on her forearm, squeezed it gently.

  “The fact that you want to do anything is enough for me. It’s all I want to know,” she went on. “All I ask is that you tell me what I can do to help.”

  We didn’t say anything after that until she pulled up at the airport.

  The stars seemed like friendly, watching eyes suspended overhead, looking down at the world below. There was a chill in the air, but-the dry atmosphere was invigorating. Once more she stood with me looking up at the stars. This time she didn’t say anything.

  I kissed her good night.

  “Want me to wait until you get started?”

  “I’d rather you didn’t. It’s cold.”

  “Would you mind awfully if I did?”

  “No.”

  “I’d like to see you off.”

  “Okay, come on then.”

  We found a plane that was ready for charter. By good luck, it happened that the owner-pilot was on the field, chatting with one of the transport pilots who was waiting to board a ship for San Francisco.

  When the fast cabin plane had been wheeled out, fueled, and tested, and the motor was warming up, Helen slipped her hand through my arm, stood watching the plane, outlined by the vivid lights against the black night.

  The pilot nodded to me. Helen said to the plane, “Take good care of him, airplane,” and then looked up at me. “Happy landings,” she said and turned abruptly away.

  I watched her as she walked off the field without once looking back. The pilot said, “All aboard.” I climbed in and adjusted the safety belt. We taxied down the field, turned around, and came roaring back. I could feel the steady push of acceleration shoving me against the back of the seat. Then the ground abruptly fell away and tilted as we made a long, banking turn.

  I looked down through the window of the plane.

  Helen Framley was standing by the automobile, looking up at the lights of the plane. I could just make out the oval of her face, had a last flashing glimpse of the automobile, and then the turning plane swung her out of my vision. A few moments later, we leveled off, and the lights drifted astern. Down below was only the dark stretch of sage-covered plateau. Overhead were the steady stars. Behind us the lights of Reno drew together, into a little twinkling cluster. A few minutes later, they had vanished altogether.

  Chapter Sixteen

  BERTHA COOL was evidently giving a party.

  I stood in front of the door of her hotel room and listened to the sound of laughter. A babble of voices indicated that the room was well filled with people, and all of them were trying to talk at once.

  I rapped on the door.

  Bertha Cool called, “Who is it?”

  I heard a man say, “Probably the boy with the ice.” The transom was open an inch or two, far enough to enable me to hear Bertha Cool’s voice say, “Open the door for him.”

  A latch clicked on the inside of the door. I turned the knob and walked in.

  It was quite a gathering. All three of the Dearbornes were there, also Paul Endicott, Arthur and Philip White-well. Bertha Cool was half reclining on a chaise longue, propped up with pillows. She was wearing a low-cut backless evening gown.

  A table in the center of the room was littered with bottles. Glasses were scattered around the room. A silver pail of ice cubes held only an inch or two of water. Ash trays were well filled with cigarette stubs and cigar butts. The atmosphere of the room was pretty thick. The men were in dinner jackets.

  Bertha Cool’s eyes grew big as she stared at me.

  The conversation came to an abrupt stop as though someone had turned off a radio when a mob scene had been playing.

  Bertha said, “Well, fry me for an oyster!”