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I sat down again and motioned, and she came over and sat down on my lap. I
almost weakened.
"It's been a nice honeymoon," I said. "But I
am a working man. I thought you knew."
"You mean you're taking on another case?"
"Nope," I told her. "One of the same ones. Paul Verne."
"Who's Paul Verne?"
"The gentleman I came to Springfield to find."
She looked really shocked. "You came here to . . . Why, Eddie, we came here
for our honeymoon! You don't mean you had an ulterior motive in choosing
Springfield."
"Now, now," I now-nowed.
"But Eddie--"
"Shhh," I shhhed.
She cuddled down in my arms. "All right, Eddie. But tell me what you're going
to do. Is it dangerous?"
"Get 'em young," I said, "treat 'em rough, tell 'em nothing."
"Eddie, is it dangerous?"
"The world," I told her, "is a dangerous place. One's lucky to get out of it
alive."
"Oh darn it, I suppose you are going to do something danger-ous. I won't let
you!"
I stood up, and she had to get off my lap or fall on the floor. I walked over
to the bureau and picked a necktie off the mirror.
"What are you going to do, Eddie?"
"Answer an ad I just read in the paper."
"You mean an ad to go to work?"
I nodded, and started to put on the necktie.
In the mirror, I could see Kit studying me.
"The idea of a pint-size like you being a detective," she said.
"Napoleon wasn't so big," I said, over my shoulder.
"Napoleon wasn't a detective."
"Well how about Peter Lorre? He's no bigger than I am."
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"Peter Lorre was shot in the last two pictures I saw him in," Kit said.
She picked up the newspaper I'd put down and started scan-ning the want ads,
while I was putting on my coat.
"Is this the ad?" she said. " "Wanted: Man with some knowledge of psychiatry,
for confidential work'?"
"What makes you think that's it?" I countered.
"I know that's it, Eddie. All the other ads are routine sensible ones for
salesmen or dishwashers or something. But why get dressed up to answer it? It
just gives a phone number, and there's a phone right on the table there."
"That reminds me," I said. "Use that phone to call Informa-tion, will you, and
get the listing on that phone number. You'll find it's the Stanley Sanitarium,
I think.
But I might as well make sure."
She made the call.
"You're right, Eddie. Stanley Sanitarium." She looked at me with respect.
"How did you know?"
"Hunch. There's an article on Page Three telling about a new sanitarium for
mental cases being started here. A doc by the name of Philemon Stanley runs
it."
"But why can't you phone from here about the job?"
"From a hotel? Nix. I've got to give myself a local background and a local
address. I go rent myself a room, and then use the landlady's phone. That way,
if he's going to phone me back or write me a letter, I can give him an address
that won't sound phony."
"What's phony about the New World Hotel?"
I grinned at her. "Ten bucks a day is what's phony. People who stay at a hotel
like this don't apply for jobs that probably pay less than their hotel bills
would be."
I kissed her, thoroughly, for it just might be the last time for a while if I
had to follow up on the job right away, and left.
Half an hour later, from a rooming house, I called the number given in the
want ad.
"Ever had any experience working in an institution for the mentally ill?"
"Yes, sir," I said. "Two years at Wales Sanitarium in Chicago. They didn't
handle really bad cases, you know, just mild psy-choses, phobiacs, chronic
alcoholics, that sort of thing."
"Yes," said Dr. Stanley, "I'm familiar with the work at Wales Sanitarium. What
were your duties there?"
"Attendant, male ward."
"I believe you would fit in very nicely. Not--uh--as an atten-dant, however. I
have something in mind of a different and--uh --more confidential nature."
"So I figured from the ad, Doctor," I said. "But whatever it is, I'll be glad
to try it."
"Fine, Mr. Anderson. I'd like to talk to you personally, of course, but if our
interview is satisfactory to both of us, you can start right away. Would you
rather have that interview this eve-ning or tomorrow morning? Either will be
quite satisfactory." I thought it over, and weakened. After all I had been
married only two weeks and I would undoubtedly have to live at the sani-tarium
while I was on the job.
I told him tomorrow morning. I went back to the hotel and Kit and I went down
for dinner to the New World dining room. Over a couple of cocktails, I told
her about the phone call.
"But suppose he should phone the Wales Sanitarium to check up on you?"
"They never do."
"What kind of confidential work would there be around a booby hatch, Eddie?"
"I don't know," I told her. "But as long as it puts me in contact with the
patients, I don't care. Anyway, it isn't a booby hatch, honey. It's a
sanitarium for the idle rich. People who go slightly screwy wondering how to
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spend their money.
That's why I used Wales as a reference. It's the same type of joint."
"It didn't say that in the article in the paper."
"Sure it did. Between the lines."
"But Eddie, aren't you going to tell me why you're doing this?"
I thought out how I'd best tell it without worrying Kit too much. She'd have
to get used to things like that, but not all at once. Not--right from our
honeymoon--to know I was looking for a homicidal maniac who had killed over a
dozen people.
Maybe more.
"I'm looking for a man named Paul Verne," I said. "He's crazy, but he's crazy
like a fox. He escaped three years ago from an insti-tution in California.
It's been in the papers, but you may not have noticed it, because his family
had enough money and influ-ence to keep it from being played up too much."
Kit's eyes widened.
"You mean they don't want him caught?"
"They very much want him caught. They offered a reward of twenty-five thousand
bucks to have him caught and returned to the institution from which he
escaped."
"But wouldn't publicity help?"
"It would, and there has been some publicity. If the name doesn't click with [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]