“How much is she paying you?” he asked.
We turned the flank of a hill and hit a wider, more firmly paved road. He said his house was a mile farther on, on the right side. He told me the number, which I already knew. For a guy in his shape he was a pretty persistent talker.
“We didn’t discuss it.”
“I don’t either like you or dislike you,” I said. “I don’t know you. Your wife asked me to find you and bring you home. When I deliver you at your house I’m through. Why she picked on me I couldn’t say. Like I said, it’s just a job.”
“Whatever it is, it’s not enough. I owe you a lot of thanks. You did a great job, chum. I wasn’t worth the trouble.”
We reached the turn-off and I swung the car into it and towards the low hills and the gap between them that was Idle Valley.
“That’s just the way you feel tonight.”
“Okay, Marlowe. Okay. You don’t like me. I get it.”
He laughed. “You know something, Marlowe? I could get to like you. You’re a bit of a bastard—like me.”
“Take tonight off. You must be feeling pretty weak.”
We reached the house. It was a two-story over-all shingle house with a small pillared portico and a long lawn from the entrance to a thick row of shrubs inside the white fence. There was a light in the portico. I pulled into the driveway and stopped close to the garage.
“Hell, I’m a writer. It must be quite a story.”
“Can you make it without help?”
“Could be. Why would it interest you?”
“Of course.” He got out of the car. “Aren’t you coming in for a drink or something?”
“Maybe you don’t like to talk about it,” he said.
“Not tonight, thanks; I’ll wait here until you’re in the house.”
I didn’t answer him.
He stood there breathing hard. “Okay,” he said shortly.
“I knew her,” Wade said. “A little. Him I never saw. Queer business, that. The law boys gave you the rough edge, didn’t they?”
He turned and walked carefully along a flagged path to the front door. He held on to a white pillar for a moment, then tried the door. It opened, he went in. The door stayed open and light washed across the green lawn. There was a sudden flutter of voices. I started backing from the driveway, following the back-up light. Somebody called out.
He was staring at me in the darkness of the car. We passed the last building on the main drag of Encino.
I looked and saw Eileen Wade standing in the open doorway. I kept going and she started to run. So I had to stop. I cut the lights and got out of the car. When she came up I said:
“Yeah.”
“I ought to have called you, but I was afraid to leave him.”
“Nice name.” His voice changed sharply, saying: “Wait a minute. You the guy that was mixed up with Lennox?”
“Of course. Did you have a lot of trouble?”
“Philip Marlowe.”
“Well—a little more than ringing a doorbell.”
“By the way, you haven’t told me your name.”
“Please come in the house and tell me all about it.”
“I know it.”
“He should be in bed. By tomorrow he’ll be as good as new.”
“The turn-off is pretty close now,” Wade said. “Or do you know it?”
“Candy will put him to bed,” she said, “He won’t drink tonight, if that’s what you are thinking of.”
I turned over the pass and after a climb the lights of the valley spread out endlessly in front of us. We dipped down to the highway north and west that goes to Ventura. After a while we passed through Encino. I stopped for a light and looked up towards the lights high on the hill where the big houses were. In one of them the Lennoxes had lived. We went on.
“Never occurred to me. Goodnight, Mrs. Wade.”
“I’m a writer,” Wade said. “I’m supposed to understand what makes people tick. I don’t understand one damn thing about anybody.”
“You must be tired. Don’t you want a drink yourself?”
“I wouldn’t know.”
I lit a cigarette. It seemed like a couple of weeks since I had tasted tobacco. I drank in the smoke.
“Maybe I’ll give it to him. He’s broke. The property is foreclosed. He won’t get a dime out of it. All on account of that psycho. Why does he do it?”
“May I have just one puff?”
Silence for a couple of miles more. We went past the fringe of one of the outlying suburbs. Wade spoke again.
She came close to me and I handed her the cigarette. She drew on it and coughed. She handed it back laughing. “Strictly an amateur, as you see.”
“Skip it,” I said. “This is just a job to me.”
“So you knew Sylvia Lennox,” I said. “Was that why you wanted to hire me?”
“You on his side?”
“I knew who?” She sounded puzzled.
“You probably told him to.”
“Sylvia Lennox.” I had the cigarette back now. I was eating it pretty fast.
He turned his head just enough to look at me. “He handled me like a baby,” Wade said. “He hardly left me alone for fear Earl would come in and beat me up. He took every dime I had in my pockets.”
“Oh,” she said, startled. “That girl that was—murdered. No, I didn’t know her personally. I knew who she was. Didn’t I tell you that?”
“No reason at all.”
“Sorry, I’d forgotten just what you did tell me.”
“Then why do I feel like a bastard for not giving it to him?”
She was still standing there quietly, close to me, slim and tall in a white dress of some sort. The light from the open door touched the fringe of her hair and made it glow softly.
“No reason at all.”
“Why did you ask me if that had anything to do with my wanting to, as you put it, hire you?” When I didn’t answer at once she added, “Did Roger tell you he knew her?”
He walked back to his car and got into it. He drove in through his gates and was gone. I backed and turned and headed towards the city. After a mile or two Wade muttered: “Why should I give that fat slob five thousand dollars?”
“He said something about the case when I told him my name. He didn’t connect me with it immediately, then he did. He talked so damn much I don’t remember half of what he said.”
Verringer stepped back. I couldn’t see his expression, but his voice hardened. “There are more unpleasant ways to die,” he said. “I think yours will be one of them.”
“I see. I must go in, Mr. Marlowe, and see if my husband needs anything. And if you won’t come in—”
“Like hell you’d pay it back,” Wade said wearily. “You won’t live long enough. One of these nights Blue Boy will kill you in your sleep.”
“I’ll leave this with you,” I said.
I began to squirm. I wanted to smoke, but I was afraid it would make Wade sick.
I took hold of her and pulled her towards me and tilted her head back. I kissed her hard on the lips. She didn’t fight me and she didn’t respond. She pulled herself away quietly and stood there looking at me.
Verringer wouldn’t let go. “I have a promise of a connection in Cuba, Mr. Wade. You are a rich man. You should help others in their need. I have Earl to look after. To avail myself of this opportunity I need the money. I will pay it back in full.”
“You shouldn’t have done that,” she said. “That was wrong. You’re too nice a person.”
“Not five grand worth,” Wade sneered. “You got plenty out of my pockets.”
“Sure. Very wrong,” I agreed. “But I’ve been such a nice faithful well-behaved gun dog all day long, I got charmed into one of the silliest ventures I ever tackled, and damned if it didn’t turn out just as though somebody had written a script for it. You know something? I believe you knew where he was all along—or at least knew the name of Dr. Verringer. You just wanted to get me involved with him, tangled up with him so I’d feel a sense of responsibility to look after him. Or am I crazy?”
“I fed and washed you,” Verringer persisted. “I came in the night. I protected you, I cured you—for the time being, at least.”
“Of course you’re crazy,” she said coldly. “That is the most outrageous nonsense I ever listened to.” She started to turn away.
“Duress, the word is, Verringer, a threat of harm. I have protection now.”
“Wait a minute,” I said. “That kiss won’t leave a scar. You just think it will. And don’t tell me I’m too nice a person. I’d rather be a heel.”
“You promised it. I need it.”
She looked back. “Why?”
Wade slid down and rested his head on the back of the seat. “I’ll think about it.”
“If I hadn’t been a nice guy to Terry Lennox, he would still be alive.”
“About my five thousand dollars, Mr. Wade. The check you promised me.”
“Yes?” she said quietly. “How can you be so sure? Goodnight, Mr. Marlowe. And thank you so very much for almost everything.”
Wade climbed carefully into the back seat and I got in beside him. Dr. Verringer drove. If his jaw hurt badly and his head ached, he didn’t show it or mention it. We went over the ridge and down to the end of the graveled drive. Earl had already been down and unlocked the gate and pulled it open. I told Verringer where my car was and he pulled up close to it. Wade got into it and sat silent, staring at nothing. Verringer got out and went round beside him. He spoke to Wade gently.
She walked back along the edge of the grass. I watched her go into the house. The door closed. The porch light went off. I waved at nothing and drove away.
The car was close by when they came out, but Earl was gone. He had stopped the car, cut the lights, and walked back towards the big cabin without saying anything to me. He was still whistling, groping for some half-remembered tune.