The Devil's Cook (12 page)

“He should be able to give a description. He can surely recognize this man if he sees him again.”

“Oh, he'll give a description, all right, probably inaccurate. He saw the man only once, two weeks ago, and you have to assume that anyone who risked this caper would have taken the elementary precaution of disguise.”

Farley suddenly made a noise that was half sigh, half groan. His feet backed out of the puddle, and his arms made slapping sounds against his sides.

“It's cold,” he said. “Do we have to stand talking in this house all night?”

“Sorry.” Bartholdi's feet also began to move, taking the puddle along.

They went downstairs and out to their cars. Bartholdi stopped outside his car and spoke to Jay, who had veered off with Farley toward his own.

“I'm not sure of the location of The Cornish Arms. I'll follow you.”

“Oh?” Jay stopped and turned, colliding with Farley, who was at his shoulder. “Are you coming along?”

“Yes.”

“I'm very tired. I don't think I can keep going much longer. Couldn't we put it off until tomorrow?”

“I want that newspaper, the one with the Personal in it. And maybe Green has got back from wherever he went—I want to talk to him. There are other things, too.”

“Well, all right.”

14

“Hush!” said Fanny.

She said it softly and fiercely, leaning forward in a listening attitude. Ben, who had not been making a sound, followed directions simply by continuing to do what he had been doing, which was nothing. Fanny got up and, having removed her shoes some time before for greater comfort, padded swiftly through the darkened living room to the hall door, where she laid an ear against the panel. Then, straightening with a ladylike curse, she returned to the bedroom as silently as she had come.

“Just as I suspected!” Fan said. “They have sneaked into Jay's apartment without making the least effort to let me know.”

“Perhaps, on the contrary,” said Ben, “they made an effort to
keep
you from knowing.”

“I shouldn't be surprised. In any event, it's a dirty trick. They know very well that I have been waiting and waiting to hear what happened at police headquarters.”

“What surprises me is that you even heard them come in. I was just as alert as you were, arid I didn't hear a sound.”

“Have you had your ears examined recently?”

“There's nothing wrong with my ears. There's nothing wrong with my nose, either. That's because I keep it out of other folks' business.”

“Well, whatever the condition of your various organs, there certainly seems to be something wrong with your head. Are you incapable of understanding
anything?
I tried to tell you that this is now police business, thanks to Jay. And the police are quite likely, in my opinion, to make it the business of everyone.”

“I doubt it. A mere wandering wife? Husbands who can't keep their wives at home are not taken very seriously by the fuzz.”

“Maybe so, maybe not. It all depends on what happens to the wives when they are not at home.”

“True. I must admit, Fan, that you have a happy knack of going straight to the heart of a matter. I'm prepared to bet, however, that what is, happening to Terry is rarely prosecuted these days as a criminal offense.”

“That remains to be seen. Just because you've been off wallowing in the fleshpots, you needn't suspect it of everyone else.”

“Who's been wallowing in fleshpots?”

“Do you deny it?”

“I neither deny nor affirm. I maintain a gentlemanly silence.”

“Just wait until the police get to you. We'll see then how long you maintain silence, gentlemanly or otherwise.”

“I'll wait, and I advise you to do the same. No doubt Farley will be over soon, and you can pump him dry.”

“If you think I'm going to stay here and wait for Farley to come when he gets good and ready, you can think again.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I'm going over there immediately, and you're coming with me.”

“Like hell!” Ben, who had been in a prone position, came quickly erect and planted his stockinged feet on the floor. “Not on your life!”

“Oh, come
on
, Ben. You deserted me for the entire weekend. The least you can do now is be accommodating.”

“Damn it, I didn't desert you. I only went off for a couple of days on my own business.”

“Are you sure it was strictly your business? For your sake, let us hope so.”

“At any rate, I'm quite comfortable where I am, and I refuse to budge.”

“Will you come if I kiss you?”

“Don't tempt me. You know I have no character.”

“I'm prepared to be especially liberal on this occasion.”

“I'm wavering. As a matter of fact, I'm seduced.”

“Good. You will find that I am as good as my word.”

Indeed, she was a great deal better. She was by all odds, Ben thought, the most talented kisser this side of heaven. Or, he amended, his pulses pounding, it would be more appropriate to look for comparisons in the opposite direction. It was neither hurried nor scrimped, and it delayed their departure for longer than Fanny had intended or Ben had hoped.

“You know,” said Fanny finally, “I'm inclined to believe you after all.”

“Regarding what?”

“Regarding what you haven't been doing this weekend.”

“I haven't said what I haven't been doing.”

“Just the same, your reactions are not those of a man who has been satiated, or even appeased.”

“I'd be happy to offer further evidence.”

“
No
. I have kept my word, Ben, now you keep yours.”

“All right. But we're choosing the duller of two alternatives.”

He found his shoes on the floor and put them on, while she put on her own and inspected her lips for damage in the mirror above the chest. Minor repairs having been made, they crossed the hall and knocked on Jay's door; and Fanny, after knocking, opened it without waiting for a response. Jay was seated with his head in his hands, and Farley was sprawled on the sofa, supported on one elbow. Aside from looking up, neither moved when Fanny and Ben entered.

“Hello, you. two,” Fanny said briskly. “Jay, you look absolutely like the wrath. You must go to bed immediately after telling me what happened at police headquarters.”

Jay groaned and put his head back in his hands. Farley opened his mouth to answer, and then said nothing; but he neglected to close his mouth. Captain Bartholdi appeared suddenly in the kitchen doorway.

“Who are
you?”
Fanny demanded.

“I was about,” said Bartholdi, “to ask you the same question.”

“Captain Bartholdi, Miss Moran,” Jay said.

“She's my half-sister,” said Farley. “I don't remember if we warned you about her or not. If we didn't, we should have.”

“How do you do, Miss Moran,” Bartholdi said.

“Quite well, thank you. Why don't you just call me Fanny?”

“Am I correct in thinking that this is Mr. Green?”

“Just call me Ben,” said Ben. “I can see that we're intruding, so we'll excuse ourselves. Come on, Fan.”

“Don't be absurd,” Fanny said. “Are we intruding, Captain Bartholdi?”

“Not at all,” Bartholdi said. “As a matter of fact, I want to talk to you both.”

“I was afraid of that,” Ben said. He went over to seat himself gloomily on the sofa beside Farley, who had, by sitting up, made room. There was still space left for Fanny, and she took possession of it. Bartholdi remained standing, perhaps because standing reinforced his air of command. He already had the feeling, relative to Fanny, that maintaining command would present certain difficulties.

“Are you a police captain?” Fanny said.

“Yes.”

“Then it's your job to look for missing people?”

“Sometimes.”

“Are you going to look for Terry?”

“I intend to do whatever is indicated.”

This answer struck Fanny as evasive. She studied Bartholdi's bland Gallic face for a moment, trying to decide if he was reliable and efficient. She had a strong notion that he was both, and a great deal more when more was called for.

“You must be good at your job. You have to be good, don't you, to get to be a captain?”

“Usually. Sometimes it's politics.”

“I don't believe it was politics in your case. I must say I'm relieved.”

“I'll try to justify your confidence.”

Bartholdi had a feeling about Fanny also, and the feeling was that the interview was going the wrong way. The wrong person, that is, was asking the questions. Not that he was excessively disturbed by this. He was prepared to maneuver from any position.

“Why a captain?” said Ben suddenly.

“What?”

Bartholdi turned his eyes on Ben, startled. He was aware of having been pricked by a shrewd thrust.

“Isn't it unusual far a captain to be assigned to a case like this?”

“Why so?”

“Well, for one thing, we don't even know if it amounts to anything yet, and neither do you. In my opinion it doesn't. For another thing, Terry isn't what you'd call a VIP. It seems odd that she'd draw so much rank the first thing.”

“All people are important, aren't they?” This was an interesting young fellow, Bartholdi thought. Have to keep parrying him for a while.

“There you are, Ben,” said Fanny. “I hope you're ashamed of yourself. How do you think it makes Jay feel when you talk like that?”

Jay was in fact feeling very little except exhaustion and a queer sense of loss that was growing worse. Hearing his name dropped in a conversation that he hadn't followed, he looked up from his hands, and he focused on the right hand of Bartholdi, which held a newspaper narrowly folded. The newspaper was slapping softly against Bartholdi's thigh.

“What's that?” Jay asked.

“This?” Bartholdi lifted the newspaper and stared at it as if he had forgotten it. “Oh, a copy of Thursday evening's
Journal
. I found it in the kitchen in a stack of papers.”

“We let them accumulate for a week or so before we put them out in the hall.” Behind their thick lenses, Jay's dull eyes sharpened and turned toward the telephone. “But Thursday evening's
Journal
is on the desk there, where you left it.”

“This is another copy.”

“We only take one. Why would we have two?”

“A good question. There's a reasonable answer to it, however. Since it's the copy in which the Personal appeared, it's reasonable to assume that your wife was expecting and anticipating it. She would have been anxious to see it as soon as possible, Therefore, if she was out when the papers hit the streets, she probably bought an extra copy and carried it home afterward. Do you happen to remember if she was away from home Thursday afternoon?”

“I haven't the least idea.” Jay seemed to have lost all interest in the matter immediately Bartholdi offered his explanation. “She was here when I arrived shortly before six. Where she may have been earlier, I couldn't say.”

“Well, never mind.” Bartholdi's interest also seemed to be gone. He diverted his attention to Fanny and Ben. “Can either of you two, thinking back, recall anything Mrs. Miles said that might have been a clue to where she was going on Friday afternoon?”

“Not I,” said Fanny. “I've tried and tried, but I can't remember a thing.”

“I haven't tried at all,” Ben said, “and there's no use trying now. She said she had an appointment, as Farley can verify, but she didn't say where or with whom, and that's all there is to it.”

“All right. Now I want to ask you a question that calls for an opinion. Do you think,” said Bartholdi, “that kidnapping is a likely explanation?”

It was immediately apparent from their expression that, of all possible questions, this was the least expected.

“Kidnapping!”
Fanny said. “Are you serious?”

“Why shouldn't I be?”

“On the contrary, why should you be?” Ben said. “Terry isn't famous, and she doesn't have any money to speak of. What could be gained by kidnapping her?”

“She does have money.”

“What do you mean?”

“She is the heiress to a considerable estate. She isn't in control of it yet, but there's no doubt that it could be tapped by a kidnapper.”

“It's news to me. Is it true, Jay?”

“It's true, Ben,” Jay said.

“Well, why was no one ever told? I, for one, knew absolutely nothing about it. Did you know anything about it, Fanny?”

“Not before Terry disappeared. Jay mentioned it for the first time yesterday. And that, as I see it, is the point. I didn't know it, and Ben and Farley didn't know it, and according to Jay it's unlikely that
anyone
around here knew it. Don't you see? If you're going to kidnap someone for money, you have to know that the person has it, or that someone else will pay it.”

“I understand that,” Bartholdi said gently. “Miss Moran, I wasn't accusing anyone here of kidnapping—”

“I should hope not!”

“—but I can't simply discard the possibility. That's why I asked your opinion.”

“I suppose it's possible,” Ben said. “But I don't think it's probable.”

“As for me,” said Fanny, “my opinion is even less favorable.”

“Well.” Bartholdi's shrug was noncommittal. “If there is any substance to the theory, we should soon be hearing from the kidnapper. In the meanwhile, we mustn't let it blind us to other considerations. The Personal, for instance, suggests a closer relationship than kidnapper-victim, though there's a definite chance the same individual is involved in both. And I would like to know, incidentally, how Mrs. Miles left this building and vanished without, apparently, being seen by anyone.”