1949 - You're Lonely When You Dead by James Hadley Chase Page A

her.’
    ‘Okay,’ Benny said.
    ‘And, Jack, you hunt for the Packard, and when you’ve got that going, have a crack at L’Etoile.’
    Miss Bolus said, ‘I could do that. I’m a member.’
    ‘Do you want to?’ I asked, surprised.
    ‘Well, I’m going out there anyway for a swim. It won’t hurt me to look around.’
    ‘I bet you look cute in a swimsuit,’ Benny said admiringly.
    ‘I looked cuter without one,’ she said, giving him a calculating stare that made him gulp. She pushed back her chair. ‘Give me a description of the car and I’ll see what can be done.’
    Kerman wrote down the registration number and description of the Packard on the back of his card.
    ‘If you are ever lonely,’ he said, ‘you’ll find my telephone number on the reverse side.’
    ‘Do I look as if I’m ever lonely?’ she asked, turned her chinky eyes on me and said, ‘Where do I get in touch with you?’
    I told her where I lived.
    She gave me an indifferent little nod, looked the other two over without apparently seeing them, and went away, moving with a long flowing stride that took her along as effortlessly as if she were being drawn forward on wheels.
    She went through the swing doors as remote and un-touchable as the Everest Peak.
    ‘My! My!’ Benny said, rubbing his hands enthusiastically.
    ‘My dreams will be in Technicolor tonight. Where did you find her, Vic?’
    ‘And what’s the big idea?’ Kerman asked.
    ‘I don’t know yet,’ I said. ‘It was her idea, not mine. She used to go round with Caesar Mills. Kruger introduced us. I wanted to find out how Mills got the money to buy himself a house at Fairview. She didn’t know, but thought she could find out. You know how it is: one thing led to another. She has a way with her. She could get information out of a deaf mute. The point is she wants to get even with Mills. That makes two of us. I have a feeling she’ll be useful.’
    Benny and Kerman exchanged glances.
    ‘The one outstanding point you have made in that little speech,’ Benny said, ‘is the gag line that one thing leads to another, and boy going around with a Popsie like that you can bet your sweet life o ne thing will lead to another!’
     
    III
     
    A s I walked over to the parking lot to collect my car it occurred to me that I was thinking far too much about Caesar Mills and far too little about Dana’s killer. I reminded myself that my outraged feelings towards Mills were personal and private, and I had no business even to think of him until I had found Dana’s killer. But I couldn’t help thinking how nice it would be if in some way I could involve Mills in the murder so I could concentrate on him with an easy conscience.
    Although I was aware that my immediate job was to go out to Wiltshire Avenue and take a look at George Barclay, there was another little job concerning Caesar Mills that also needed my care and attention, and after wrestling with my conscience I decided it mightn’t be such a waste of time if I looked into the Mills affair first.
    I got into my car, drove over to the nearest drug store, parked, went inside, and consulted a telephone book. A little wave of satisfaction flowed over me when my finger, running down a column, stopped at a line that read: Mills, Caesar, 235 Beechwood Avenue. Fairview 34257.
    I put the telephone book back on the rack, lit a cigarette and gently massaged the back of my neck. I stood like that for a moment or so, then hurried out, climbed into the car and drove over to the County Buildings at the corner of Feldman and Centre Avenue.
    The Land Record Office was on the second floor, and in charge of a sad-looking old clerk in a black alpaca coat and a querulous frame of mind. After a little persuasion he got me the record I wanted. 235 Beechwood Avenue had been bought by Natalie Cerf a year ago. There was no mention of Comrade Mills having any part in the transaction.
    I pushed the record book across the counter, passed a remark about the