“Oh, Jesus!” I said. “I knew I should have gone straight to her. Well, to hell with the meet-cute act, I’m on my way.”
8
Olivia Mariassy had a room on the third floor, two below mine. I used the stairs. Nobody seemed interested in where I was going. Nobody seemed to be hanging around the corridor in front of number 310, either. I had the feeling I was in the clear, but I didn’t take time to make sure. I just went right up to the door and knocked.
A feminine voice responded promptly. “Who is it?”
I drew a long breath. I guess I’d been really worried. After a moment of relief, I started to get angry. Our tame scientist was still alive and, from the calm sound of her voice, unharmed, but apparently she expected me to shout my name and business through the panels; and what the hell was the idea of having the desk refuse to call her, anyway?
“The password is flattop,” I said softly, “like in aircraft carrier.”
“Oh.”
There was a little pause; then the door opened. She was still fully dressed in her tweed suit. Her only concession to the lateness of the hour was that she’d unbuttoned her jacket. She was fastening it up again primly as she stood there. She even had her shoes on, although I would have been willing to bet she hadn’t had them on a minute earlier. No woman, no matter how intellectual and proper, sits and reads late at night in high heels.
That’s what she’d been doing when I knocked: reading. A light burned over the big chair in the corner, and she was holding a fat book with her forefinger marking the place. The title, I noted, was The Algebra of Infinity, whatever that might mean.
Standing there facing me she looked, I thought, like a not unhandsome spinster librarian about to ask me sternly why I couldn’t get into the habit of returning my books on time.
“What are you doing here?” was what she really asked. “I mean, is this wise, Mr. Corcoran? After all, we’re not supposed to be acquainted yet, are we? That abortive incident in the bar hardly constituted an adequate introduction.”
“Are you all right?” I asked, watching her face. “Are you alone in there?”
She looked startled first and then indignant. “Alone? Of course I’m alone! What do you mean?”
I relaxed. It was obvious from her behavior that nobody was holding a gun on her from a hidden corner and telling her what to say. I pushed past her. The room was empty. So were the closet and bathroom. I came back to face her and reached out to shove the hall door closed.
“Now,” I said, “what’s the big idea, Doc?”
“I don’t understand.”
“I mean the phone bit. We tried to reach you. No go. Somebody had told the desk you didn’t want to be disturbed. Naturally, knowing that under the circumstances—particularly after the bar scene—you’d be much too smart to cut yourself off from us, in fact you’d be waiting for me to call, we got just a little concerned.”
Her hand went to her mouth, ingénue fashion. It was an oddly girlish gesture for a woman with her severe appearance. “Why, I never thought! I guess I’m not a very good secret agent, Mr. Corcoran. I’m terribly sorry. I just... well, it was a personal matter. Somebody with whom I didn’t want to speak.”
“Personal,” I said. “This is a hell of a time for personal matters, Doc.”
“People with medical degrees rarely like to be called Doc, Mr. Corcoran.” She was her stiff, precise self once more. “And you are hardly in a position to criticize, after the way you left our business unfinished this evening to chase after that child in pink—leaving me, I must point out, in a very humiliating position. I remember your saying on the ship that you ran after women, but I didn’t realize it was compulsive!”
I stared at her. “You don’t think I went off with the kid for fun, for God’s sake!”
“What else could I think?” Her voice was cold. “And I must say I’m disappointed in your taste, Mr. Corcoran. That shiny little dress, so tight, so short, so bare. Why do the little tarts all feel it’s charming to overflow their clothes like that, all arms and legs and naked shoulders?”
I said, “Never mind my taste, or hers. That little tart, as you call her, has just been beat up and raped because of us. You might keep it in mind while you criticize her clothes. You might also keep it in mind the next time you feel like shutting off your phone for personal reasons. This isn’t a friendly rubber of bridge, you know. Just what were your personal reasons?”
“I told you. Just somebody I didn’t want bothering me with calls.” She wasn’t thinking of this at all. She was looking at me with shock and disbelief. “Raped?”
“It’s a technical term for sexual intercourse achieved by violence. Just who is this guy you don’t want to talk to?”
“Never mind,” she said evasively. “It’s a private matter. It has nothing to do with this. Why was the girl... raped?”
“Apparently as a gesture of spite and defiance,” I said. “I was using her to create a diversion and somebody saw through it and took this way of telling me what he thought of my tricks. Anyway, that’s one explanation. There may be others.”
Olivia was frowning. “Then you didn’t leave me just because—” She stopped.
“Just because I suddenly got hot pants for the kid? Not exactly,” I said. “We were being watched, Doc, by a man who wasn’t buying what we were selling. I thought I could confuse the issue, but the idea backfired.”
“Then... then I owe you an apology.”
“I’d rather have some dope on this guy who’s been pestering you on the phone.”
She shook her head. “I assure you, it’s completely irrelevant, Mr. Corcoran. You say we are being watched? Well, that’s what we hoped, isn’t it? That was the reason for the great dramatic effort. So you’ve already identified the man we’re after?”
“Yes, I’ve identified him,” I said grimly. “The only trouble is, he’s identified me, too. He’s behaving very peculiarly, however, so until we get him figured out we’ll go right on with the show as if nothing had happened.” I looked at her for a moment. It was obvious that she had no intention of answering questions and we were wasting time, so I said, “I’m leaving now. The sooner I get out of here the better; maybe we can still salvage this act. You will lock your door and call the desk right away and tell them to put through any calls. Then you will give me twenty minutes to check around outside and get set to watch over you properly. If I call in the meantime and tell you to stay put, you will stay put come hell or high water. You will not open to anyone who doesn’t give this knock.” I rapped lightly on the back of a chair, three and two. “You will not leave this room for anyone who gives you instructions over the phone, regardless of who they claim to be. If it takes a week, you’ll wait right here until somebody comes along who gives the proper knock. You’ve got water in the bathroom and people have lived for months without food, I’m told. Do I make myself clear?”
She licked her lips. “All right, Mr. Corcoran. And if you don’t call, what do I do when the twenty minutes are up?”
I told her. She didn’t like it, but my shocking news and the fact that she’d misjudged me had apparently rattled her, and she didn’t protest very hard. I went out and waited until I heard the lock set behind me; then I went down to a pay phone and called Mac to let him know no female scientists had been lost or damaged. I told him how the situation stood. Then I made a check of the premises and found no sign of Kroch, which didn’t necessarily mean anything. He seemed to be good at leaving no sign when he didn’t want any left.
Olivia came out of her room in exactly twenty minutes by the clock. There was something to be said for working with scientific personnel after all. I watched her descend the stairs and cross the lobby, gave her a minute or two in the lounge, and went in after her.
She’d taken the table I’d had earlier, over by the wall. I hesitated, discovering her there, and went over.
“Well, did you ever learn how long it took, ma’am?” I asked.
She looked u
p, startled, and frowned at me in a puzzled way. “How long?”
“The bar. To go around.”
“Oh,” she said quickly. “Oh, you’re the man... I didn’t recognize you.”
“I was sorry to have to run off like that, earlier, but I saw somebody I didn’t know was in town. Do you mind if I sit down, ma’am?”
“Why,” she said, “why no. Not at all. Please do.”
“We could clock it now,” I said. “That fat man. We can see how long it takes before he gets back in front of us. Let me get you a drink...”
Well, you can take it from there. We went through the standard getting-acquainted routine. I trotted out the story of my coming from Denver and being a newspaperman there, and she told me about coming from Pensacola and doing something scientific and secret she wasn’t allowed to talk about. She could, however, tell me, she said, if I was interested, about some phenomena she’d encountered in her work that weren’t classified. Take weightlessness, for instance...
A couple of drinks later we were still talking weightlessness. “Of course, now that we’ve actually put men into space, we no longer have to simulate this particular situation, we can study it in actual practice,” she said. She remembered something and looked up quickly. “Oh, damn, our fat man is gone! The experiment is ruined, I’m afraid, Mr. Corcoran.”
“Let’s try the brassy-blonde lady with the silver foxes. She looks pretty permanent; maybe she’ll stay for a complete go-round. How about another drink?”
“Well, I shouldn’t,” she said a little uncertainly. “I’m afraid I’m just talking shop and boring you terribly. Well, maybe I will have just one more, if you don’t think I’ll be too intoxicated. I’m trusting you to keep track and not let me disgrace myself. Although I’m not at all sure you’re a trustworthy person, Mr. Corcoran.”
She was putting on a much better show than she had earlier in the evening. By this time she had the flushed, bright-eyed, vivacious, faintly disorganized look of the unpracticed lady drinker who’s overdoing it. Anybody could tell her inhibitions were taking an awful beating. On more intimate terms now, we discussed my trustworthiness, or lack of it, at length and in laughing detail. I looked up to see the waiter standing by the table.
“One more of each,” I said, shoving the empty glasses toward him.
“I’m sorry, sir.” He gestured toward the bar, where the last man on duty was shutting up shop. We were alone in the lounge.
“Oh, dear,” Olivia said, “Are they closing up? Do we have to go? We never did learn how long it takes to go around.”
“The bar?” said the waiter. “It takes about fifteen minutes, ma’am.”
I paid the bill, rose, and helped Olivia to get around the table the waiter pulled away from the bench.
She held my arm to steady herself. “I’m afraid I’m just a wee bit inebriated, Mr. Corcoran. It’s a very interesting experiment. I’ve always wanted to try it—in the interest of science, of course—but I’ve always been afraid of making a fool of myself. Am I?”
“What, making a fool of yourself?” I said. “Not yet, Doc, but I’m still hoping.”
“Now I’m sure you’re not to be trusted!” She laughed, and stopped laughing. “Do I look all right? My hair isn’t coming down, is it? I look like an utter witch with my hair down. Not that I’m any beauty with it up, don’t think I have any illusions along those lines. It’s really very kind of you to... She stopped and drew a long breath, leaving the sentence unfinished. We were out in the lobby and they were locking the doors of the Carnival Room behind us. Olivia drew herself up and patted her hair, facing me. When she spoke again, her voice was brisk and business-like and sober. “You’ve been very considerate, Mr. Corcoran, listening to the boring prattle of a lonely woman. No, you don’t have to see me to my room. I’m perfectly all right.”
I cleared my throat. “Well, I was kind of thinking of my room, ma’am. It seems a pity to break this up. I’ve got a bottle in my suitcase. We could continue the scientific experiment, er, in private.”
It was funny. We were acting—with some help from the drinks, of course. We were going through the age-old motions of the pickup for the benefit of anyone who might be watching. And yet the tight, embarrassed little silence that followed my suggestion was real enough. Olivia’s laugh was slow to come, and strained when it did come.
“Oh, my dear man!” she murmured. “My dear man! Are you going to flatter the unattractive lady intellectual by making a real pass? Isn’t that carrying the Good Samaritan act pretty far?”
“We’re going to have to do something about that inferiority complex, Doc,” I said. “I don’t like to hear a good-looking woman running herself down.”
“You know I’m drunk, deliciously drunk, and you’re deliberately taking advantage of a foolish, intoxicated... Do I really want to be seduced, Mr. Corcoran?” I didn’t say anything. We faced each other for some long seconds; then she laughed again softly and recklessly. “Well, why not?” she asked, taking my arm again, in an intimate way. “Why not?”
We stood very close in the elevator for the operator’s benefit; we didn’t speak because it wasn’t necessary. We got out at the fifth floor, turned left, and walked arm in arm to my door. I put the key into the lock. With the door opening under my hand, I turned to look at my companion.
There was something I’d forgotten. I wondered if she had. There was one affectionate little scene still to be played for our public, if we had one, before we could escape into the privacy of the room and be our cool, distant and professional selves once more.
I saw a sharp little glint in Olivia’s eyes, and I knew she’d been wondering if I’d try to leave this particular chore undone. I reached out, took the glasses gently from her nose, folded them, and tucked them into the breast pocket of her jacket while she stood quite still facing me. Then I kissed her. It wasn’t too difficult. The woman wasn’t actually revolting, and I was moderately tight myself. She wasn’t too clumsy, either. At least she knew where the noses went.
I had time to be a little surprised at this. After all, she didn’t give the impression of having had much recent practice, if she’d ever had any. Then I sensed somebody behind me, and, releasing her, I turned, ready, and caught a glimpse of a man’s face that might have been handsome if it hadn’t been contorted with anger. It wasn’t a face I’d ever seen before.
That changed the picture. I’d been expecting Kroch. I had to make a snap decision and I made it. Instead of going into action, I just stood there flat-footed and let a fist catch me on the jaw and knock me against the doorjamb. Another fist to my stomach doubled me up. A third fist—well, maybe my count wasn’t quite accurate, maybe the guy had only two but it seemed like more— took me alongside the head and knocked me down.
9
It took a bit of doing, of course. No man really likes to be used as a punching bag in front of a woman, even if she isn’t quite Sophia Loren. There was even a certain risk, but an attacker who really means business seldom wastes his time and effort with the fists. You get so you can sense when there is real danger, and when the worst that can happen is getting your block knocked off in an amateurish way.
A moment after I’d hit the hall carpet, Olivia was kneeling beside me. Her hand touched my face, but her words weren’t addressed to me.
“That was brave!” I heard her cry. “To attack a man from behind, without warning! That’s just what I would have expected from you, Harold!”
“You were going into his room!” Harold, whoever he was, had a fine baritone, with indignant overtones.
“And why not? It wouldn’t be the first time I’d gone into a man’s room, would it? Not quite the first!”
“Look at you!” he cried, ignoring this. “Letting a cynical reporter—oh, I asked about him at the desk—ply you with liquor until you can hardly stand and bring you up here! He was laughing at you, Olivia, couldn’t you see? He just thought it was an amusing way to spend an evening. It meant nothing to him, not
hing at all.”
She said fiercely, “That’s right, nothing! No more than it meant to you. You’re a fine one to criticize other men’s motives!”
“Olivia—”
“Do you think I didn’t know what he was doing?” she demanded. “All right, so it amused him to be charming to the mousy lady scientist. Maybe it amused me to play up to him! Maybe I thought it would be entertaining to deliberately let a slick, experienced character like that get me drunk and... and lure me to his room for immoral purposes. After all, I seem to be susceptible to slick characters, and what does it matter now? At least he was honest, Harold. At least he said nothing about love!”
I would have liked to listen to them longer, but they were being pretty loud and somebody in a neighboring room might get tired of the noise and call the manager. I’d learned about as much as I could hope for. I stirred, therefore, groaned, and opened my eyes. I sat up dazedly. Olivia helped me. I looked up at the man who had slugged me.
He was in his late twenties or early thirties with a roughhewn touch of Lincoln or Gregory Peck about the physiognomy, carefully cultivated. It was obvious that regardless of what might have come between them lately, he and Olivia were born to be soulmates. His tweeds were every bit as tweedy as hers, and his glasses were no less thick and black in the rims. They gave him a sincere and earnest look.
“If you’d only let me explain!” he was saying.
She wasn’t looking at him any more. “Are you all right, Paul?” she asked.
“You’re making a terrible mistake,” Harold protested. “If you’d only listen, darling! You completely misunderstood what you heard in the office that day. Miss Darden and I were only—”
She didn’t turn her head. “Haven’t you done enough? Do you have to wake the whole hotel, too? You can’t persuade me there was any misunderstanding. You and your nurse made it all perfectly plain. I could hear you clear out in the waiting room, every word. You should really close the door before you indulge in private jokes with your employees, Harold!”
The Shadowers Page 6