THERE was only a uniformed man in the anteroom.
“Where’s my brother and sister and the Merceron girls?” I demanded.
“They’ve gone,” he answered.
“No?” I glanced around the room. “Would you know where?”
“I think those two sisters went home. Your sister went to the Parrish with a matron and was she hot! She cussed that matron out good!”
“Good, was it? I’m sure it will do her a lot of good! Didn’t my brother go with her?”
“They all left at the same time.”
I headed for the pressroom. Joe Shem was snoring on the reporter’s couch. I shook him rudely awake.
“What the hell are you doing in here making sleep tunes? Are you a reporter?”
He raised up and gave me a blank, sleepy look. “Oh, hullo, Maggie. I jest lay me down to rest a minute.”
“So I notice,” I said drily. “Where’s everybody? Have you seen my brother?”
He assumed an injured air. “You needn’t get snippy. I only took a short nap. Sure I saw your brother. He went out with Johnny Morrow and Herrot.”
I made for the Greek joint across from the building. Vangie would keep on ice until later. I found Brett at a table with Morrow, Herrot, and two photographers, Elliot Sellers and Miles Hansen. Brett was sitting at the end of the booth.
“Where did they put Vangie? Or aren’t you interested?” I asked brusquely.
“Of course I’m interested!” he retorted. “She’s in the matron’s dorm. She’s okay.”
I’d been having visions of her in a common cell and relief swept over me. Perversely enough, I grew irked. “It’s a damn sight more than she deserves!” I retorted. “From what I heard of her behavior with the matron I marvel at the woman’s kindness.”
“Vangie did cut up,” Brett said ruefully. “I didn’t know she could cuss like that!”
“She’s had a liberal education in profanity, between the two of us,” I said sharply.
Brett grinned, so did the others. I walked over to a separate table and sat down. I ordered a combination sandwich and coffee and leaned over toward Brett.
“All jokes aside, I don’t know but what we should get that brat out of the can before night. I don’t like the idea of leaving her in jail, even in the matron’s quarters. I think I’ll call Barnett Ansley.”
Morrow shoved out of the booth and stopped at my table.
“What’s the dope on your sister, why is she in custody?”
“They’re holding her as a material witness. Didn’t Brett tell you?”
“That guy? He tells nothing!”
I laughed. “Smart lad. He’s protecting his sister—Vangie, not me.”
“You sticking around?”
“Hell no! I’m going home and McCarthy can fire me if he wants to.”
“He won’t. There isn’t anything cooking until tomorrow morning anyhow.”
“What do you mean?” I asked innocently.
“Don’t tell me you don’t know?”
“Uh uh.”
Morrow puffed up importantly. “The Dellmans are being brought in.”
“Oh! I knew that!” I deflated him. “Nelson told me and in a manner that appeared he blamed me for them having to come in.”
“Well, you started it! You and McCarthy.”
“Maybe. But I don’t like the idea of getting her burned with me. After that story she’ll probably have it in for everyone on my paper.”
“You ought to have thought of that before you told Dennis about the car.”
“Would you have thought before you told Jim Briggs?” I asked sweetly.
He smiled. “You got me, kid. Well, I got to beat it. See you tomorrow.”
“Wait a minute. Gerry Dellman is supposed to be out of the city. How come he got back so fast?”
“You should know the answer to that! He flies everywhere in his own plane.”
“Oh, that’s right.”
Morrow left, and I moved over to the booth, sitting by Art Herrot.
“Nobody tells me anything,” he complained. “Why are they holding your sister?”
“Because she wrote some silly letters and she also happened to be in the hotel that night. She saw the same woman Sullivan saw and later heard her threaten Ned. She can’t identify her though; she didn’t see her face.”
“Maybe she can identify the voice. Are you going to give the story in?”
“Not if I can avoid it. If you do I’ll have to.”
“I’ll let it ride for the present. If I can.”
I smiled my thanks. He and the photographers got up to leave. I waited until they were out of the place, then told Brett.
“They’re holding her in protective custody. The only way we can get her out is on a writ. If you want me to, I’ll call Ansley now.”
“Why don’t we just leave her where she is for tonight?” he asked.
“Are you kidding?” I gaped at him.
“No. She could be in danger, and if she is, she’s safer in jail than at home. She’ll be all right for tonight anyhow.”
“But what will we tell Mother?”
“The truth. She can take it.”
“Maybe. But you can tell her. I don’t want the job.”
“Okay. There’s nothing to get upset about.”
“You don’t know your mama very well, do you sonny boy?” I grinned.
“Oh, I can handle her all right.” But he didn’t look enthusiastic about it.
“Well, I’m going to the office and then home.” I got up to leave.
“I’ll ride with you. I let Toni take my car.”
“Come along then.”
In my car I stretched and yawned. “You drive. I’m about to fall asleep.” I handed him the keys.
He parked in front of the newspaper building to wait for me while I fought it out with Dennis. Riding up, the elevator girl, Ruth, looked at me as if I were a curiosity. “I hear you got mixed up in a murder!”
“A couple of murders got mixed up with me,” I told her as I got out and went into the city room.
Dennis looked up in surprise. “What you doing here?”
“I came to give you what I’ve got before I go home. Nothing is going to happen until tomorrow morning. The cops are just going to sit on their fat fannies and think about it. Tomorrow the Dellmans are being questioned. If you’ve got a grain of charity in your system you’ll let me go home now. I’m going anyhow.”
“Go home!” he yelled. “At 2:30? Can you imagine that?”
“I can and you needn’t put on an act for me. I’ve had no sleep, there’s nothing more happening on this case so there’s no reason why I shouldn’t go home.”
He studied me silently for a minute. “Okay, beat it. Scram, screw on out of here, and be in at 7:30 sharp. Get it?”
I got it and hustled out before he could change his mind. I’d half intended to tell him about Vangie, but I wasn’t going back to do it.
In the car I let out a gusty sigh. “Home, brother—and don’t spare the horsepower. I’m two feet ahead of collapse.”
Brett nosed the car out into the traffic and we rolled uptown. At home he drove into the garage and we went in the back way. Bertha popped her head out of the kitchen, looking past us, her eyes searching.
“Whar at ma white chile?”
“In jail,” I said bluntly.
A wail went up and she darted for Mother’s room.
“Miz Sally! Dey done gone put Miss Vangie in de jail-house!”
Brett gave me a look. “That tore it,” he said grimly.
“I leave the shreds with you!” I replied and scuttled upstairs.
I found Ida, my maid, mending some underwear.
“Get me a gown and run me a hot bath, please,” I asked her. “I’m going to bed and no one is to come in here or bother me until I wake up. Not if you have to stand guard at the door with a loaded gun! Understand?”
“Does dat includes you maw?”
“It includes everybody! I’ll talk to Mama later, if I’m awake before she goes to bed.”
I’d just climbed in the tub when I heard Mother’s voice raised in argument. “I don’t care what Miss Margaret said, Ida! I’m going in there. You seem to forget I’m mistress here! Stand aside.”
I knew that tone.
“Let her in Ida,” I called out. “Tell her to come in the bathroom.”
Mother stood in the door, worried and annoyed. “Never dare give a maid in this house such an order!” she said tartly. “I won’t stand for it.”
“You might remember I pay Ida’s salary!” My tartness matched hers. “She’s my maid and this is my room. I want to get some rest. Now what do you want?”
“What’s this ridiculous story about Evangeline being in custody? I won’t stand for it.”
“That’s two things in two minutes you won’t stand for,” I said wearily. “But I’m afraid you’ll have to bear up under the latter. Vangie will just have to spend the night in jail, and I hope it teaches her not to write silly letters or go chasing after men in their hotels!”
“What letters? When did she chase after a man?”
“Didn’t Brett tell you? Didn’t Vangie say anything when the police came after her?”
“Brett told me nothing about this. I was out when Evangeline left, and she said nothing about being taken by police. She told Bertha she’d gone out with friends.”
“Truthful child, isn’t she? She must have thought she’d be home and you’d never be any wiser.”
“It doesn’t matter what she thought. I want to know what letters you mean.”
“Some drivel she wrote McGowan. She even threatened his life in some of them. Crazy little fool!”
Mother whitened to the lips. “Threatened him? How?”
“Wrote him that she’d fix him or get me to fix him. Words to that effect. The police got hold of the letters.” I refrained from telling her how they got them.
“But that doesn’t seem much of a reason to hold her in jail! Is she under suspicion?”
“Didn’t Brett tell you anything?”
“Only that she was being held. He said you had the details.”
“The welcher!” I exclaimed disgustedly. “He was supposed to tell you all about it. Now he passes me the buck. Nuts!”
“Margaret! Can’t you speak decent English?”
“I express my feelings better in slang,” I said, and launched into the story of Vangie’s visit to the hotel and why the police thought she was safer in jail than at home.
“And you left the child there when you could have had her released?”
This time I passed the buck. “Your son thought it best for her to stay there overnight. He’s the man of the house, isn’t he?”
“Yes, but jail is no place for that child.”
“Oh, she’ll be all right. She’s in the matron’s dormitory. She’s had four years of boarding school so she shouldn’t mind.’”
“I hope you’re right, but I don’t like the idea.”
“I don’t like it too much myself. But she got herself into it.”
“That’s neither here nor there!”
“I know it, but there’s nothing we can do about it now. And I’d like to get to bed, if you don’t mind.”
She sighed heavily. “Well, if we can’t do anything we can’t. Will you be down for dinner?”
“If I’m awake. If not, Ida can bring me a tray later or I’ll just raid the ice box.”
She nodded and left. I got out of the tub, dried off, and went into the bedroom where Ida sat looking anxious.
“Miss Marg’ret, Ah couldn’t stop Miz Sally. She wuz sot on comin’ in.”
“It’s all right. Now she’ll leave me be and I can get to sleep.”
Ida turned down the covers and plumped the pillows. I crawled gratefully in between the sheets and was asleep in one-nothing flat.
I awakened to a dusky room and looked at the bedside clock. Just 6:00. I felt wonderfully refreshed for having had only about three hours’ sleep, and I was as hungry as a wolf on the prowl. I slipped on a robe, thinking I’d go down and filch a hot biscuit and some jelly before dressing for dinner.
The house was strangely quiet and there were no smells of food cooking. I wondered about that for only a brief moment, then I caught a glimpse of the east windows. The sun was just rising. I’d slept the clock around and then some extra.
I giggled and continued on to the kitchen where I foraged for eggs and bacon and made coffee. I was about finished when Bertha came in to start breakfast.
She fastened surprised indignant eyes on me. “Whut you doin’ in hyar?”
“Eating,” I said, with commendable brevity.
“Eatin’ and a sleepin’ in yo comfitable home while Miss Vangie sits in de jailhouse. Ought to be ’shame fo youself.”
She grunted disgustedly and went about preparing breakfast. I sat over a second cup of coffee and listened to her grumble.
“Settin’ in de kitchen lak a suhvant. Got no bizness in dis hyar kitchen, nohow.”
I got up. “To hell with you. I’ll get out of your damned old kitchen!”
“Sich talk fum a lady! Sounds jes lak a no good fancy woman, dats whut.”
“Is that so?” I sneered. “Well, I hear your precious Vangie used some language to burn the ears off the jail matron!”
“Effen she did she sholy lamed hit fum you!” she blazed at me. “Now git on out fum ma kitchen I Git!”
I beat a hasty retreat, went out on the porch and brought in the paper and the milk. I went back and put the milk on the kitchen table.
“Why don’t you bring these things in?” I asked. “Isn’t that what you’re being paid to do?”
I didn’t wait for an answer but scooted back to the dining room where I found cigarettes and settled down to open, in some fear, the morning paper. I breathed easier as nothing appeared on the front page or elsewhere in the paper about Vangie’s being held. I was reading the story of how the police expected to make an arrest at any minute in connection with the two murders when Mother came into the room.
I put down the paper and started for the stairs. I was rested but I still wasn’t up to coping with parental arguments about Vangie. I’d just put my foot on the second stair when she called me.
I returned reluctantly to the dining room.
“Yes, ma’am?”
“I hope you’re going to get Evangeline out of that place this morning?”
“Of course.”
She cast a jaundiced eye at the paper.
“Is there anything about her in that thing?”
“Nothing. The boys promised they’d layoff if they could. There’s nothing about her in it at all.”
“That’s good. Margaret—” hesitantly—“do you suppose Ned McGowan was the sort the papers are making him out to be?”
“Ned McGowan was a heel,” I said flatly and with no hesitation. “Had he been older he’d have been a rake. As it was he was just a heel.”
Her eyes raised to mine, a mute question in them.
“I don’t know,” I said gently. “I don’t know. I can only hope Vangie had more sense than to let him take her over the full route.”
Mother nodded miserably and I went to my room where I dressed in a gray tailored wool. I came back down the stairs ready for work, kissed Mother good-by, and left the house.
When I walked into the city room, Dennis cocked an eye at the clock and let an exaggeratedly surprised look creep over his face.
“Early, ain’t you?”
“Ummm,” I murmured. It was just 7:05.
“How come? Afraid you might miss something?”
“Uh huh.”
“Ummm and uh huh! Is that all you can say?”
“Huh?” I looked at him.
“All right, smarty! Why didn’t you tell me they were holding your sister at Parrish Prison?”
“How did you find that out?”
“Never mind! Why didn’t you tell me yesterday?”
“Because I didn’t want her name spread all over the papers!” I snapped. “The kid’s just been foolish and there’s no reason she should be involved in a stink. She’s only a material witness anyhow!”
“Only a material witness!” Dennis howled. “And you say nothing!”
“None of the other papers said anything about her! She’s my kid sister and come hell or high water, job or no job, I’m going to protect her if I can.”
He scratched his chin reflectively. “Maybe I better send someone else on this today. You’re letting your personal feelings interfere with your work.”
“You can do as you damn well please,” I retorted. “But if you take me off you can find another reporter. I’ve suffered too much for this thing to let it go without a fight.”
“If I didn’t have two men out now I’d call your bluff,” he said. “But I want a story on your sister right now.”
“Well, you won’t get it!” I blazed and waited to be fired.
“Okay, kid. I’ll pick it up from the other paper and when I do—” He left the threat unfinished.
“I’ll promise you you’ll have it before any of the other papers.”
“See that we do. Now get these done and then go on to headquarters.” He handed me a bunch of rewrite stuff.
For over two hours I pounded out routine rewrites and then handed them in to the desk.
“I’m leaving,” I told Dennis. “I’ll call you from over there.”
“Get me something to pin on that Dellman dame,” he instructed. “I’m in a spot over that thing.”
“I’ll try,” I promised and left the office.
My dash clock said 9:15, and what with traffic, I pulled up just as the big shiny town car of the Dellmans came into the parking lot by the court building.
I hesitated, then spoke.
“Good morning!” I said brightly. “This is early for you two, isn’t it?”
Gerald Dellman smiled. showing even white teeth in a bronzed clean-shaven face. “Not for me. I’m usually up and out by this time or earlier.”
I waited, expecting a freeze from her, but to my surprise she extended a cordial hand.
“Good morning. Miss Slone!” We shook hands. “Dear, you remember Miss Slone? She’s Brett’s sister.”
“Of course.” We shook hands too. “I’m pretty keen about your brother. He’s a great flier. One of the best. Wish he’d come to work for me, but he likes that old crate of his.”
I smiled at the millionaire planter and aviation enthusiast. “Say rather he likes his independence. Flying his own ship he can do as he pleases.”
“I suppose so.” His face sobered. “I’m going to miss the trips he and Ned and I used to take together. We had some fine times.”
“I’m glad you two aren’t angry with me,” I said quickly.
They both looked puzzled.
“About that car story my paper printed,” I explained.
“Your paper?” He looked sharply at me. “Did you write that thing?”
“Hell no!” I denied flatly. “My city editor pulled that boner.”
“I’d quite forgotten you worked for them,” he said. “Although now I do recall seeing your name over stories. Margaret Slone, isn’t it?”
“That’s right.” I grinned. “My paper pays off half in money and half in bylines. Bylines and a quarter will get you pork chops.”
“Really?” He smiled dubiously.
A voice spoke at my shoulder. Morrow had come up and must have heard the last few words.
“She means that sheet she works for is not too generous with cash but it never stints on credit in the way of bylines.”
Dellman laughed lightly. “Oh! I see! Well, don’t worry about that story, Miss Slone. Even if you had written it, you’d only have been doing your job.”
“You’re very kind, but I don’t write such a story unless I’ve adequate proof to back it up.”
“Why, I believe you were worried!” Mrs. Dellman laughed. “Truthfully, I am angry about the story, but not with you. There is a perfectly good explanation and the paper should have called me before they printed the story.”
I thought: So she has an explanation all ready! I wondered if that could mean she was going to admit having been in the hotel. That seemed incredible inasmuch as it would mean admitting she’d been doing some sweet cheating on her husband. She must know the woman had been heard to threaten Ned. That story had been printed.
“Shall we go in?” I asked.
“Of course.” They turned to follow me and Morrow fell in step by my side.
“What do you think?” he asked in a low voice.
“Nothing,” I said sharply, sniffing the air. “We’ll just have to wait and see what happens upstairs.” I sniffed again.
“What are you smelling the air for?”
“What? Oh, nothing! Just a perfume Mrs. Dellman is wearing. It’s very odd.”