Love Has No Alibi Page 11

  “I’m not playing detective. I don’t know anything about that sort of thing. And I’m not withholding evidence. I’m only waiting until I can convince myself that it is evidence.”

  “I get it . . .” Arthur strolled into the kitchenette and poured himself a glass of water from the little bottle I kept in the icebox. He came back and put it on the coffee table. “What do you do now?” he asked.

  “First I’ll think things over. Then I’m going to find out for sure whether this actually is Ricardo’s luck piece or whether I’ve run into a coincidence to end all coincidences.”

  “Which you don’t believe.”

  “Naturally not.”

  “How will you find out?”

  “I’ll ask Dana.”

  “How would she know?”

  “She can look in the little gold box. He changes it from one suit to another. Sometimes he leaves it in his street clothes while he’s dancing. Sometimes he leaves it on his make-up table. She could go into his dressing room, pick her time and peep inside. If the coin is there, okay. If it isn’t, I won’t need any further confirmation.”

  “Of what?” he asked dryly.

  “Of the fact that this one belongs to Ricardo.”

  “And then . . . ?”

  “Quit shoving me. I don’t know ‘what then.’ I don’t know anything. Maybe I’ll turn it over to the police. Maybe I’ll get scared of what might happen to Dana in the way of scandal . . . and that’ll frighten me off. I’m only sure of one thing: Whatever I do will probably turn out to be wrong.”

  He said, “Hold it, Kirk. And grab yourself a big night’s sleep, starting as of now.”

  “I’m going to the Caliente.”

  “Not tonight, you’re not. You’re bleary-eyed. You’d probably mess things up. Give yourself a day to get adjusted.”

  I nodded. “You win,” I said. “I’ll surround myself with sweetness and light. I’ll sleep like a baby. Like hell I will.”

  “Try it anyway,” he said. “Maybe you’ll be surprised.”

  I did try it. I crawled into bed and turned out the lights.

  Arthur made a good guess. I slept soundly until the alarm clock went off at 7:30.

  I didn’t feel good. That would have been asking too much. But I did feel better. “By tomorrow morning,” I told myself, “I should know a lot more than I know now.”

  I was right.

  CHAPTER XV

  TTHE NEXT day started off fine. I was bent over my drawing board when a secretary appeared at my elbow and said Mr. Jensen wanted to see me. I slicked my hair down, loosened my tie so I’d look as though I’d been working twice as hard, and followed the girl.

  Mr. Jensen was at his desk. My office building sketches were scattered all around. For preliminary stuff, it was fairly neat, but Jensen was too smart a cookie to be fooled by pretty sketches. He hadn’t got where he was by anything less than solid architectural brains.

  He motioned me to a seat. He picked up one sketch in each hand and smiled.

  “Nice,” he said. “You’ve got ideas, Douglas.”

  I flushed all over. Tell me I’m pretty and I’ll call you a liar. But say something nice about my professional ability and I’ll blush like a schoolgirl.

  He put the sketches back down on the desk. He said,“Maybe Ferguson will like them—maybe he won’t. I thought it only fair to let you know that Yarborough and I think you’ve got something. We can always find a client who would be interested in this sort of work.”

  He smiled again, started attending to something else. I took the hint. I said, “Thanks, Mr. Jensen,” and floated out of the room. What he had done made me realize that from now on I rated with Yarborough & Jensen. I was something more than just another guy who could make marks with drawing instruments.

  Jensen’s praise was like a shot in the arm. I labored like a fiend. My aching backbone reminded me that the working day had ended. I washed up, telephoned Dana, and dropped in at her apartment. One look at her and I forgot what I had come for. I started doing affectionate things, and she acted as though she liked them. I bubbled over like a kid, telling her about Jensen. She seemed to be fascinated. She said, “You watch me dance, Kirk—and you’ve got a certain light in your eyes: I hear about your work, and feel the same way about you. Maybe we’re pretty proud of each other.”

  I sat on the couch and she mixed me a short one. I fished into my pocket and took out a shiny bit of metal. I showed it to her. I said, “Did you ever see that before?”

  Her eyes got wide. “Of course. That’s Ricardo’s luck piece. Where did you get it?”

  “I’ll explain later. Meanwhile, are you sure”

  She took it and turned it over and over. Then she handed it back. “Sure I’m sure. There couldn’t be two like it.”

  “Suppose I put the edge of a quarter on the streetcar track and waited until a car passed. Just to be cute. I’d have one that looked just like this, wouldn’t I?”

  “Yes . . . But it wouldn’t make a lot of sense.” She was frowning. I loved her frown. Her nose crinkled up when she did it. She said, “It is Ricardo’s, isn’t it?”

  “That’s what I want to find out.”

  I was staring at the quarter. It held a lot of interest for me. I spoke again without looking at her.

  “Has Ricardo said anything about missing it?”

  “No.”

  “Would he if he had?”

  She laughed. “You frame your sentences beautifully, darling. The answer is that if he had, he most certainly would.”

  I took her hand. “Could you find out, Dana?”

  “Yes. He hasn’t carried it when he was dancing since one night in Chicago when it fell out on the floor and he ruined the number by stopping to retrieve it. When he’s on, it either stays in his street clothes or, if he plans to shift into another suit, he leaves it on his make-up table.”

  I said, “There’s no rush about this. I’d like you to look inside that box: sometime when he doesn’t know you’re doing it. If it has disappeared, and he doesn’t know—I’d be just as happy if he didn’t find out.”

  “Want me to put it back?”

  “No-o. Not yet.”

  Dana said, “You’re being mysterious. Why the secrecy?”

  “I don’t want to make statements until I’m more sure than I am now.”

  “You win.” She got up, letting her hand rest on my shoulder. She said, “What’s the program for tonight?”

  “Usual thing. I’m no longer the exhausted man. I think we should drink Mr. Jensen’s health. We might also toast Ferguson for rescuing me from the architectural doldrums. We can do all that with dinner—between shows.”

  She vanished into the bedroom. I picked up a magazine and riffled through the pages. I didn’t bother reading. My head was too full of pleasant thoughts. This looked like my day. I was loving it.

  Ricardo was at the club when we got there. He already had changed from street clothes to white tie and tails. Dana gave me a significant look. She started back for the dressing room corridor and I went to my pet table. Ricardo walked across to the bandstand and talked to the leader. They both started making rhythmic motions with their right hands, so I fancied they were discussing tempo. The next time I looked, Ricardo had disappeared.

  The chorus girls started grouping near me, waiting for the opening number. One or two of them spoke to me, and then the big spot went on, the music swelled and they were off: gay, artificial smiles on hard, youthful faces.

  The show went off as usual. Everything timed to the minute. A few seconds before Dana & Ricardo were due on, they appeared in the opening between the club and the corridor.

  They were quarreling bitterly. Their faces were like thunderclouds. Ricardo had hold of Dana’s arm, and his grip wasn’t gentle. He was talking fast, and I was glad I wasn’t a lip reader because I had a hunch I’d resent what he was saying.

  Dana wasn’t just taking it. Whatever it was about, she was giving as good as she got. It wasn�
��t a pretty picture.

  The emcee teed off on their introduction. Ricardo raced to the other side of the bandstand. Dana passed my table without even looking at me. Then came their music cue, and they were on the floor.

  The transformation was magical. All traces of anger had vanished. They were smiling at each other. Ricardo swept her into his arms and they flowed into an exquisite tango. They went through their three numbers and did two encores. They took their bows hand in hand and finally they were through. When they passed me, their faces were again contorted with anger, and their words—whatever they were saying—were bitter.

  I didn’t like any part of it, but it was wonderful. All dance teams quarrel, especially just after they’ve come off the floor. It’s a logical and natural reaction from nervous tension. But this was different. I waited.

  I didn’t wait long. Dana showed up, dressed for the street. She paused long enough to say, “Let’s go,” and I trailed her toward the lobby. Somebody called to her, and she waved at them, but she couldn’t quite get around to smiling. She was tight as a fiddle string.

  We pushed through the revolving door and she said, “Let’s walk.” I fell into step and she headed toward the park. She walked fast, and didn’t talk. Neither did I.

  We entered the park at Fifth Avenue and Fifty-ninth Street. We walked down a little hill and past the lake where swans float around in summer and people skate in winter. Nobody was skating now. A thaw was on and the red ball was down.

  The patches of snow were ghostly. The trees were bare and disconsolate. The whole place looked forgotten. A car whizzed past occasionally as though in a hurry to get out. Dana continued to walk, and continued to say nothing.

  We skirted the zoo and walked all the way to the Mall before she spoke. Then she said something, and her voice was sharp as a razor’s edge. She said, “Ricardo’s luck piece has disappeared.”

  I had thought it was something like that. It confirmed certain ideas, but it made me worry more about other things. I said, “He caught you looking?”

  “Yes. I figured I had time. I went into his dressing room and opened the box. He came in and snatched it from me.”

  “Snatched?”

  “Yes. His remarks from then on came straight out of the gutter.”

  I squeezed her arm. I had some foolish idea that it might help. I said, “Did he seem surprised to find the box empty?”

  “I don’t know . . .” She appeared to be puzzled. “I don’t know whether he was surprised, or whether he was furious because I had discovered it.”

  That was an angle. I asked, “What did he actually say?”

  “He accused me of stealing the coin. He demanded that I return it. He said I’d hidden it somewhere, and that he’d rip every stitch of clothes off me to find it.”

  “Was it an act, Dana—or was he serious?”

  “It could have been either. Now will you tell me where you found it?”

  “I found it in my apartment. It was evidently caught between the carpet and the wall. My guess is that it had been there a long time.”

  She stopped walking. Then she shook her head. “That isn’t possible,” she said. “He’s never been in your apartment.”

  There was only one answer to that. She and I went deep into a discussion which was almost a repetition of the talk I’d had with Dr. Arthur Maybank the previous night. Dana said, “Of course, Ricardo knew a lot of people before I met him. But he never mentioned anybody named Ethel Brower.”

  I didn’t tell her what Arthur had suggested: that Ricardo might have killed Ethel Brower in the mistaken belief that he was strangling Dana.

  We kept on walking. It was too cold to do anything else. We were near the reservoir before she spoke again. She said, “Things can’t go on this way, Kirk.”

  I wrapped my fingers around her arm. I stopped walking. I said, “Get a grip on yourself, honey. You’re upset. You’re angry with Ricardo. You’re worried.”

  She was standing close. The still, cold air was all around us; the park lights cast weird shadows on the snow. Dana was trembling. I put my arms around her. For a moment she stayed that way, her body rigid. Then it melted. Her arms circled my neck. Her voice wasn’t hard any more; it was the shaken voice of a woman who had been asked to bear more than was possible.

  She said, “Don’t you see why we can’t keep this up, Kirk? It’s not what happened tonight. It’s what happens every night. Tonight only made me see things more clearly. It gave me more courage.”

  I brushed my lips against her forehead. “Courage for what?”

  “Courage to suggest what I’ve wanted to say for a long time.” Her voice got tiny and frightened. “I’m not free, darling. If I wait for Ricardo, I’ll never be free. Not ever.” She drew back in my arms and looked up at me. “Don’t make it too difficult for me, Kirk. Surely you understand what I’m trying to say.”

  I shook my head. “What is it, Dana?”

  Her eyes did not waver. She said, “It isn’t fair for us to be separated, Kirk. It isn’t fair to either of us.”

  I said, “Hush . . .”as though I were talking to a child. But she didn’t hush.

  “We mustn’t let ourselves be cheated out of the thing that means most to both of us, darling. And there’s only one answer. I want to come and live with you.”

  CHAPTER XVI

  HER WORDS hit me right where I lived. I let them sink in and wondered what to say.

  It wasn’t easy. I thought of a lot of things, but each sounded more trite than the last. All were inadequate. They had been said before by other men under other circumstances. For that reason, they’d be bound to sound corny.

  We stood there looking at each other. She was waiting for me to say something and I wasn’t saying it. I did the next best thing. I put my arms around her again. If a sparrow cop had come along, we’d have looked very silly: a man and a girl locked tight in the middle of some very cold winter.

  Then I said things. They were the things a kid might say to his first girl—and they were said that way. I wanted Dana to understand how much I loved her; how deeply I was touched by what she was offering. It was important for her to understand that because I knew I was going to turn it down.

  I released her, then took her arm and started walking. She walked, too. You could hear our thoughts racing.

  Inside, I was all mixed up. Emotions and common sense were having themselves a pitched battle. It would have been easy and delightful to say Yes. But I knew I was going to say No. Only trouble was, I didn’t know how to do it. The situation was delicate. I could turn her down and feel noble. But I didn’t want to feel noble. I didn’t care how I felt. It was Dana I was concerned about.

  I said, “Let’s keep one thing in mind, sweetheart. I love you.”

  That wasn’t too good, but it wasn’t too bad, either. I had said it before, but it still fitted. She didn’t even look at me. I hadn’t covered quite enough territory. I tried again.

  “The idea is startling. It’s the thing I’d like second best in the world.”

  “And the first best?”

  “Would be to marry you.”

  “We’re back where we started,” she said.

  I asked, “Shall I diagram it?”

  “That’s what I’ve been waiting for.”

  “All right. The words are going to be all mixed up. They’re going to sound cold and logical instead of the way I want them to sound. They’re going to make me out a wooden Indian.”

  “In other words . . .” She took the play away from me, “You’re refusing.”

  I tightened my fingers on her arm. It was the most precious arm in the world. The girl it belonged to was the most precious girl. I said, “Let’s don’t put it in simple words, Dana. It isn’t a simple matter. It’s merely that I’m looking farther ahead than you are.”

  “That’s our trouble,” she retorted with some bitterness. “We’ve always looked so far ahead that we’ve failed to understand what’s happening right now. And don�
��t tell me that I’m acting on impulse. Don’t tell me that I’m angry with Ricardo. Quarreling with him tonight only served to crystallize ideas I’ve had for a long time.”

  I said, “It wouldn’t work out. You ’re not the sort of girl who could live with a man she wasn’t married to and get away with it.”

  “I’m not afraid of what people would say.”

  “It isn’t people I’m afraid of. It’s you. There would always be that between us. You’d always be wondering what I was thinking.”

  “Doesn’t that seem rather unimportant, Kirk?”

  “No.” I stopped walking and so did she. “I’m going to quit sparring,” I said. “I’ll hand it to you straight, and you’ll either understand it or you won’t. You want this maybe a tenth as much as I do. You’re the one who would be sacrificing something. It’s a sacrifice I won’t let you make.”

  “I’ve thought it over.”

  “Then you’ve thought the wrong way. You’ve probably tried to justify and rationalize a move which you instinctively know is wrong. Oh! I’m not talking morals. What you’re suggesting wouldn’t be immoral—no matter what people might think. It wouldn’t be immoral, but it would be wrong because it would be foolish. You’ve got to see what I’m driving at! Get it into your pretty head that I’m not a prude. It all adds up to this: What we both want is permanence. We wouldn’t get it that way.”

  “What does that make me?”

  “The sweetest, bravest girl I’ve ever known. And if you start feeling sorry for what you’ve done, I’ll pin your ears back.”

  Her eyes held mine. They were fine, steady eyes. They saw in my face a lot of things I hadn’t been able to put into words.

  Then, for the first time, a little smile played about her lips. She said, “You’re right, Kirk. I was afraid you would be.”

  “Afraid?”

  “I wanted you to do the wrong thing. I wanted you to say Yes. I wanted you to be swept by your desire for me . . .”

  “That,” I said, “would be easy.”

  “But it won’t happen. I know. As a matter of fact, I agree with you.” She laughed. “My God!” she said, “the tricks that intelligence can play!”