After a while she asked: “Is Mamma in love with you?”

“Good God, no! She hates men more than any woman I’ve ever known who wasn’t a Lesbian.”

“But she’s always having some sort of—”

“That’s the body. Don’t let it fool you. Mimi hates men—all of us—bitterly.”

She had stopped crying. She wrinkled her forehead and said: “I don’t understand. Do you hate her?”

“Not as a rule.”

“Now?”

“I don’t think so. She’s being stupid and she’s sure she’s being very clever, and that’s a nuisance, but I don’t think I hate her.”

“I do,” Dorothy said.

“So you told me last week. Something I meant to ask you: did you know or did you ever see the Arthur Nunheim we were talking about in the speakeasy tonight?”

She looked sharply at me. “You’re just trying to change the subject.”

“I want to know. Did you?”

“No.”

“He was mentioned in the newspapers,” I reminded her. “He was the one who told the police about Morelli knowing Julia Wolf.”

“I didn’t remember his name,” she said. “I don’t remember ever having heard it until tonight.”

I described him. “Ever see him?”

“No.”

“He may have been known as Albert Norman sometimes. Does that sound familiar?”

“No.”

“Know any of the people we saw at Studsy’s tonight? Or anything about them?”

“No. Honestly, Nick, I’d tell you if I knew anything at all that might help you.”

“No matter who it hurt?”

“Yes,” she said immediately, then, “What do you mean?”

“You know damned well what I mean.”

She put her hands over her face, and her words were barely audible: “I’m afraid, Nick. I—” She jerked her hands down as someone knocked on the door.

“All right,” I called.

Andy opened the door far enough to stick his head in. He tried to keep curiosity from showing in his face while saying: “The Lieutenant wants to see you.”

“Be right out,” I promised.

He opened the door wider. “He’s waiting.” He gave me what was probably meant to be a significant wink, but a corner of his mouth moved more than his eye did and the result was a fairly startling face.

“I’ll be back,” I told Dorothy, and followed him out.

He shut the door behind me and put his mouth close to my ear. “The kid was at the keyhole,” he muttered.

“Gilbert?”

“Yep. He had time to get away from it when he heard me coming, but he was there, right enough.”

“That’s mild for him,” I said. “How’d you all make out with Mrs. J.?”

He puckered his thick lips up in an o and blew breath out noisily. “What a dame!”

25

We went into Mimi’s bedroom. She was sitting in a deep chair by a window looking very pleased with herself. She smiled gayly at me and said: “My soul is spotless now. I’ve confessed everything.”

Guild stood by a table wiping his face with a handkerchief. There were still some drops of sweat on his temples, and his face seemed old and tired. The knife and chain, and the handkerchief they had been wrapped in, were on the table. “Finished?” I asked.

“I don’t know, and that’s a fact,” he said. He turned his head to address Mimi: “Would you say we were finished?”

Mimi laughed. “I can’t imagine what more there would be.”

“Well,” Guild said slowly, somewhat reluctantly, “in that case I guess I’d like to talk to Mr. Charles, if you’ll excuse us for a couple of minutes.” He folded his handkerchief carefully and put it in his pocket.

“You can talk here.” She got up from the chair. “I’ll go out and talk to Mrs. Charles till you’re through.” She tapped my cheek playfully with the tip of a forefinger as she passed me. “Don’t let them say too horrid things about me, Nick.” Andy opened the door for her, shut it behind her, and made the o and the blowing noise again.

I lay down on the bed. “Well,” I asked, “what’s what?”

Guild cleared his throat. “She told us about finding this here chain and knife on the floor where the Wolf dame had most likely broke it off fighting with Wynant, and she told us the reasons why she’d hid it till now. Between me and you, that don’t make any too much sense, looking at it reasonably, but maybe that ain’t the way to look at it in this case. To tell you the plain truth, I don’t know what to make of her in a lot of ways, I don’t for a fact.”

“The chief thing,” I advised them, “is not to let her tire you out. When you catch her in a lie, she admits it and gives you another lie to take its place and, when you catch her in that one, admits it and gives you still another, and so on. Most people—even women—get discouraged after you’ve caught them in the third or fourth straight lie and fall back on either the truth or silence, but not Mimi. She keeps trying and you’ve got to be careful or you’ll find yourself believing her, not because she seems to be telling the truth, but simply because you’re tired of disbelieving her.”

Guild said: “Hm-m-m. Maybe.” He put a finger inside his collar. He seemed very uncomfortable. “Look here, do you think she killed that dame?”

I discovered that Andy was staring at me so intently that his eyes bulged. I sat up and put my feet on the floor. “I wish I knew. That chain business looks like a plant, all right, but … We can find out whether he had a chain like that, maybe whether he still has it. If she remembered the chain as well as she said she did, there’s no reason why she couldn’t have told a jeweler how to make one, and anybody can buy a knife and have any initials they want engraved on it. There’s plenty to be said against the probability of her having gone that far. If she did plant it, it’s more likely she had the original chain—maybe she’s had it for years—but all that’s something for you folks to check up.”

“We’re doing the best we can,” Guild said patiently. “So you do think she did it?”

“The murder?” I shook my head. “I haven’t got that far yet. How about Nunheim? Did the bullets match up?”

“They did—from the same gun as was used on the dame—all five of them.”

“He was shot five times?”

“He was, and close enough to burn his clothes.”

“I saw his girl, the big red-head, tonight in a speak,” I told him. “She’s saying you and I killed him because he knew too much.”

He said: “Hm-m-m. What speak was that? I might want to talk to her.”

“Studsy Burke’s Pigiron Club,” I said, and gave him the address. “Morelli hangs out there too. He tells me Julia Wolf’s real name is Nancy Kane and she has a boy friend doing time in Ohio—Face Peppler.”

From the tone of Guild’s “Yes?” I imagined he had already found out about Peppier and about Julia’s past. “And what else did you pick up in your travels?”

“A friend of mine—Larry Crowley, a press agent—saw Jorgensen coming out of a hock-shop on Sixth near Forty-sixth yesterday afternoon.”

“Yes?”

“You don’t seem to get excited about my news. I’m—”

Mimi opened the door and came in with glasses, whisky, and mineral water on a tray. “I thought you’d like a drink,” she said cheerfully. We thanked her.

She put the tray on the table, said, “I don’t mean to interrupt,” smiled at us with that air of amused tolerance which women like to affect towards male gatherings, and went out.

“You were saying something,” Guild reminded me.

“Just that if you people think I’m not coming clean with you, you ought to say so. We’ve been playing along together so far and I wouldn’t want—”

“No, no,” Guild said hastily, “it’s nothing like that, Mr. Charles.” His face had reddened a little. “I been—The fact is the Commissioner’s been riding us for action and I guess I been kind of passing it on. This second murder’s made things tough.” He turned to the tray on the table. “How’ll you have yours?”

“Straight, thanks. No leads on it?”

“Well, the same gun and a lot of bullets, same as with her, but that’s about all. It was a rooming-house hallway in between a couple stores. Nobody there claims they know Nunheim or Wynant or anybody else we can connect. The door’s left unlocked, anybody could walk in, but that don’t make too much sense when you come to think of it.”