She said, “Is this—”

  Lorraine cut her off. “For Mr. Holgate,” she said. “We’re going in.”

  She opened the door without knocking and left the brunette standing there looking at me, the smile on her face but her eyes no longer smiling.

  Holgate’s office was a big sumptuous room with a long table containing model dwellings, built to scale and placed on lots on a papier-mâché sloping hillside which had been carved with contour roads, covered with green paint to simulate lawns, and had artificial trees growing here and there. The scale houses were on the level lots and could be moved from lot to lot. Their red tile roofs gleamed in artificial sunlight thrown down by a powerful searchlight in the ceiling.

  Holgate’s desk was a huge affair covered with various knick-knacks and a few loose papers.

  Holgate himself, in his late forties, a big, beaming individual with shrewd gray eyes, a slight drawl and the easy affability of a successful salesman, got up to shake hands.

  The guy looked like a tall Texan. He was wearing Pendletons and cowboy boots. He must have been well over six feet two and he had the kind of face that would break into a smile at the slightest excuse.

  “How are you, Mr. Lam, how are you? It’s certainly nice of you to come out. Please sit down there.” He had a close-clipped iron-gray mustache which gave strength to his mouth.

  I shook hands and told him I was glad to have an opportunity to meet him, that he had a nice-looking subdivision and it looked as though it was headed for a big success.

  “Of course it is, of course it is,” Holgate said. “We have some of the finest homesites anywhere in this part of the country but we’ve got something more than that, Lam. We have an opportunity for people to make money.

  “We got in on this subdivision right, and we’re selling it right. We’re splitting the potential profits with our customers.

  “I don’t mind telling you I’m a fast worker. I get into a place, clean it up and get out. I don’t like these subdivisions that drag on and on and maybe a week or two will pass before there’s a sale; sometimes a month—not for me. I buy property right and then I split the potential profits with the customers so that I move the whole subdivision within a short time, then make a blanket deal with some financial company to take over what lots are left and go on to something else.

  “That way I make a low margin of profit but I have a fast turnover. I—Hell’s bells, Lam, I sound like I’m trying to sell you a lot. I’m not—although if you did want to put some money into one of these lots it would be the slickest, safest method of doubling, tripling and quadrupling your money you ever saw.

  “Well, here I go again, getting too enthusiastic, and talking real estate. I wanted to talk to you about the accident.”

  “Oh, yes,” I said.

  “Would you mind telling me just what you saw, Mr. Lam?”

  I said, “Well, it was about half-past three o’clock in the afternoon on the thirteenth of August.”

  Holgate nodded to Lorraine Robbins. She dropped into a chair, whipped a shorthand book off the desk and her pen started flying over the pages.

  “If you don’t mind,” Holgate said, “I’ll ask my secretary to take a few notes so that we can keep things straight. There’s so much going on around here I try to make notes of everything; otherwise I forget.…I don’t think my memory is as good as it used to be. How’s yours?”

  “Seems to be working all right,” I told him.

  “Well, you’re young,” he said. “It should be. Now let’s see, where were we?”

  “Three-thirty on the afternoon of August thirteenth,” Lorraine said.

  “Oh, yes. Would you care to go on, Mr. Lam?”

  I said, “I was walking on the west side of Main Street approaching the intersection of Seventh and Main. Over on the east side where northbound traffic was going I noticed a string of cars. I guess there were probably four or five in the string—well, probably four.

  “Now, I was noticing the intersection because I intended to turn to the right and cross over to the east side of Main Street and I was wondering just how it was going to be for catching the traffic signal, so I was watching the light.

  “The light changed from green to amber. The car that was nearest the intersection could have gone through all right but the driver slammed on his brakes hard. The car behind him almost hit him. The next car was driven by a young woman—very attractive—Now wait a minute. I think it was the next car. There may have been three between her and the corner but the way I see it now there were only two.”

  I closed my eyes as though trying to recall the scene.

  “Yes, yes, go ahead,” Holgate said.

  “This car was a light car. I don’t know whether it was foreign-made or not. It was a sports car and the top was down. I remember that because I could see this girl when she got hit; that is, when the car got hit. I could see her neck snap back—I mean, her head snap back.”

  “Yes, yes, go on,” Holgate said.

  “It was a big car that was behind,” I said. “That is, not the biggest but a good-sized automobile, a Buick as I remember, a big one, and—well, that man simply didn’t stop in time. He’d been out on the left-hand lane, evidently trying to pass, because when I first noticed him he was swerving back to the right to get in the line of traffic and—”

  “Yes, yes, yes,” Holgate said. “Now, did you see that man clearly enough to recognize him?”

  I shook my head. “Not then.”

  He frowned slightly.

  “Later on after the accident,” I said, “I saw him get out of the car.”

  “You recognized him then?”

  “Not at the time because I didn’t know him, but I recognize him now. You were that man.”

  A big smile broke over his face. “And whose fault would you say it was?”

  “Lord, there’s no question about whose fault it was,” I said. “I’m sorry to say this, Mr. Holgate, and I hate to be a witness against you, but it was your fault all the way. You slammed into the rear of the car. That is, I say you slammed into it. You started putting on your brakes hard about three or four feet before you got to the rear of the car. That cut down the impact a lot—in fact it was surprising how little noise the accident made. But nevertheless you hit that light car with sufficient force so that—well, I saw the girl’s head snap back.”

  “Yes, yes, and then what happened?”

  “She got out of the car, you got out of your car, you evidently showed each other your driving licenses and made notes.”

  “How did the young woman act when she got out of the car?”

  “Sort of dazed,” I said. “She kept putting her right hand to the back of her neck, and then when you showed her your driving license, and as she made a note of the name, she kept rubbing her neck with her left hand.”

  “Then what?”

  “Then she got in the car and drove away.”

  “Do you know the exact location of this accident?”

  “Sure. It was on the east side of Main Street just before you come to the Seventh Street intersection. It was just about in front of the entrance to that motion picture theater there.”

  Holgate said, “Lam, I’m going to ask you to do something.”

  “What?”

  “I want an affidavit from you.”

  “Well, why not?” I asked.

  He beamed at the secretary and said, “Draw it up, Lorraine. Use his exact words, make it verbatim.”

  She nodded, got up and crossed the office.

  When she had gone out I said, “There’s a remarkable young woman.”

  “One of the most efficient secretaries I’ve ever had,” Holgate said. “But I have to have efficiency.”

  “She’s also one of the most beautiful,” I said. “And her assistant seems to be no slouch either.”

  Holgate grinned. “Window dressing, Lam. I have to have them beautiful. Did you ever buy a lot in a subdivision?”

  “I don’t know that I have.”

  “Well, there has to be a first time sometime, Donald. You’d better buy one in this subdivision and really make some money.

  “You understand I can’t give you any money for your testimony. That would make it worthless. But I could give you the inside track on one of our lots and—How I talk. I can’t keep away from making a sales pitch. What were we talking about, Donald?”

  “Secretaries.”

  “Oh yes,” he said. “You know, you should see the other one. She’s a very wonderful blonde.”

  “You have three?”

  “Lorraine has two assistants. The other one is off today—but what I was going to say was, Donald, that if you ever bought a lot in a subdivision from a salesman and then came in to have the secretaries make out the papers and there was some crabby, hatchet-faced battle-ax on the job, you’d get out of the buying mood.

  “I want beauty. Two of those girls won beauty contests. They have what it takes, and I tell them to be friendly, affable. Meet the customer halfway. That’s my motto.

  “We keep things jazzed up around here. Right from the time the customer arrives on the ground we try to give him a feeling of importance, and we try to get him in the right mood.…Take for instance the way these girls get out of a car.

  “I don’t know whether you’ve ever seen any of these motion pictures or not, showing young women the modest way to get out of a car; refined, ladylike—to hell with that stuff! When they get out of a car here we just reverse the process. We give them a motion picture lesson of how to get out—that is, if they’re dealing with a man. If they’re dealing with a woman, of course, the situation is different.”

  “And when it’s a couple?” I asked.

  “When it’s a couple they have to use their own judgment, find out who’s wearing the pants in the family, who’s going to sign on the dotted line.

  “You know, it’s a funny thing about men, Donald. They go down to the beach and they see a girl’s legs just as far as there are any legs and they look, but it’s just a look.

  “But when they see a girl getting out of an automobile, if it looks accidental, if she just gives them a brief glimpse—you know, just a flash—about half as far as they’d see in a bathing suit but—Boy, it makes a man feel devilish. He thinks he’s seen something.

  “Now, you take women. Just look at the psychology of the thing. When they’ve got on stockings and a skirt, if you see their legs above the top of the stocking, they act like you’re a Peeping Tom—and as far as panties are concerned, my God, that’s sacred ground.

  “But you let that skirt be labeled a play skirt and the panties made of the same material as the skirt and what happens? They act like it’s perfectly all right to whip the skirt off and parade around in panties, just because the panties are made of the same cloth as the skirt. I don’t get it. It’s a kind of feminine psychology that—But what the hell, I use it, Donald. I use everything. I use all kinds of psychology in sales. Well, here we are…”

  He broke off as the door opened and Lorraine Robbins came back in and handed me two sheets of paper and gave a copy to Holgate.

  The typing was letter-perfect; neat, even, regular typing with the new modern electric typewriter. It looked as though it had been done on a printing press. There wasn’t an erasure, there wasn’t a strike-over, there wasn’t the faintest irregularity.

  And the thing was a verbatim transcription of what I had said.

  “Any objection to signing it?” Holgate asked.

  “None whatever,” I told him.

  He handed me a fountain pen.

  I signed on the dotted line.

  “Any objection to swearing?” he asked. “Just to make it official.”

  “None whatever.”

  He glanced at Lorraine Robbins. Lorraine said, “Hold up your right hand, Mr. Lam.”

  I held up my right hand.

  “You solemnly swear that the statements contained in this affidavit which you have just signed are true, so help you God?”

  “I do.”

  She had been carrying a notarial seal concealed in her left hand, one of these little pocket nickel-plated doodads that a notary public can slip into a purse when she’s going out.

  She pulled the document over to her and on the place where it was written: “Subscribed and sworn to before me this 5th day of October,” she signed her name as notary public, impressed the seal and handed it to Holgate.

  Holgate looked at it, nodded, got up and gave me his hand, signifying that the interview was over.

  “Thank you, thank you very much, Lam. It’s wonderful to have citizens come forward and volunteer information in regard to accidents they’ve seen.

  “Now Lorraine will take you back to your hotel—unless you want to look over some of our lots. If you do, she’ll be glad to show you around and—”

  “Some other time,” I said. “I’m—well, I’m not in a position where I care to make any investments at the moment. I don’t have any surplus capital to tie up.”

  His tongue made clucking sounds of sympathy. “Too bad, too bad,” he said. “That’s the way it is, though. So many times when you have an opportunity for an absolute surefire profit you can’t put your hands on the available money. We’ll take a small down payment, Lam, and…”

  I shook my head firmly.

  “Okay, okay. I’m not going to press you. I just feel sufficiently grateful to put some profit your way—you know, something I could do legitimately. Lorraine, take him up to the hotel.… Now, wait a minute, Donald. I don’t think your address is in the affidavit.”

  “It’s on the hotel register,” I said.

  “Well, you’d better let me have it so I can make a note right on this affidavit. Where can I reach you?”

  I gave him the San Francisco address.

  He came around the desk, put a big hand on my left shoulder, grabbed my right hand and shook it. “Thank you, Donald. Thanks a lot. Any time you want anything in the line of real estate, you just let me know. I’ll tell you what I’m going to do. I’m not going to tell you what lot it is because that wouldn’t be fair, but I’m going to take one of our best lots and sort of hold it back so that in case you want to get in on the ground floor any time within…well, within the next thirty days, just let me know.”

  “Now, let’s not have any misunderstanding, Mr. Holgate,” I said. “That accident was your fault.”

  “I know it was. I’m responsible,” he said. “I’m to blame. I only hope that poor girl isn’t injured seriously.”

  “So do I,” I said. “She’s a good-looking girl.”

  “You notice those things, don’t you, Donald?”

  I looked at Lorraine and said, “I notice those things.”

  He laughed and said, “Take him to the hotel, Lorraine.”

  She smiled at me and said, “Ready, Mr. Lam?”

  “Ready,” I told her.

  We went out to the car. I started to walk around to the left side to help her in but she jerked the door open on the right side, jumped in and slid across the seat.

  I got in beside her, shut the door and she touched a shapely toe to the throttle and we swept around to the driveway.

  “How did you like Mr. Holgate?” she asked.

  “Fine.”

  “He’s a wonderful man. A fine man to work for.”

  “How about Mr. Maxton?” I asked.

  The half-second of silence could have been due to the fact that she was concentrating on approaching the intersection. It could have been due to something else.

  “He’s fine,” she said.

  “You must have a nice job.”

  “I do have.”

  “You like it?”

  “I love it.”

  “You like lots of action yourself?”

  “Action,” she said, “is life. Inactivity is death. Routine is deadly. I want variety. I want new circumstances arising every minute of every day where I have to use my individuality, my initiative, and what brains I have.”

  “I think you do all right,” I said.

  “Thank you, Donald. Has anybody ever told you you’re awfully nice?”

  “Holgate did,” I said, “but I think he wanted to sell me a lot.”

  She burst out laughing and said, “Donald, you do say the damnedest things! How long are you going to be in town?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Know anyone here?”

  “Just a few people.”

  “Men or women?”

  “Both.”

  “Well,” she said, “don’t get lonely.”

  “I won’t,” I said.

  “I’m satisfied you wouldn’t,” she said, glancing at me, “but in case you do—well, you could always get in touch with me. My name’s in the phone directory.”

  “Would you try to sell me a lot?” I asked.

  She laughed again and said, “Probably.”

  She was silent for two or three minutes, then as she drove up in front of the hotel she smiled at me and said, “And, on the other hand, Donald, I might give you a lot.”

  She gave me her hand with a quick, impulsive gesture, flashed me a quick smile, then turned her attention to the front of the car, waiting for me to close the door.

  I closed the door, she gave a quick look into the side mirror and shot out into traffic.

  4

  The hotel clerk told me there were no messages for me. I told him I’d look the town over a bit and walked a couple of blocks to a taxi stand.

  The taxi took me to the supermarket. I got in the car I had left parked there, drove back to the hotel and hung around until dark.

  No one seemed to be taking the slightest interest in me. The rangy individual didn’t put in an appearance. Nobody seemed to care whether I came or went. There were no messages.

  Shortly before dark I called the apartment of Doris Ashley.

  There was no answer.

  I went to a phone booth and called Elsie Brand at her apartment.

  “Hello, Elsie,” I said. “How’re you coming?”

  “Donald!”

  “What’s the trouble, kid?”

  “Some man has been telephoning and he sounds—well, dangerous.”