Chapter 4 Chapter 4 Hurricane Street

My destination was a gray country cottage.After ringing the doorbell, a thin man opened the door.His face was tired and pale save for a nickel-sized red spot on each cheek.I think this is Dan Rolfe with tuberculosis. "I want to see Miss Bland," I told him. "What's the name?" came the voice of an educated patient. "My name means nothing to her. I came to her for Wilson's death." He stared at me with the same tired dark eyes and said, "Oh?" "I'm from the San Francisco branch of the Continental Detective Agency. We're interested in this murder."

"That's great!" His tone was ironic, "Please come in." Once inside, I went into a room on the basement floor where a young woman was sitting at a table piled high with papers.The papers included leaflets offering financial services, stock and bond market forecasts, and a chart of the horse racing schedule. The room was messy and disorderly.There is too much furniture, and none of it is in the right place. "Dinah," the tuberculosis patient began to introduce me, "this gentleman has come from San Francisco to investigate the death of Mr. Donna Wilson on behalf of the Continental Detective Agency."

The young woman stood up, kicked a few newspapers from under her feet, and came up to me, holding out a hand. She's an inch or two taller than me, maybe.She has broad shoulders, full breasts, round hips and muscular legs.The hand she reached out to me was soft, warm and strong.She has the face of a twenty-five-year-old girl, but vicissitudes have already been revealed.Her mouth appeared large and mature, and lines crept up the corners of her mouth, and lighter fine lines began to weave around her thickly lashed eyes.Her eyes were large, blue, and somewhat bloodshot. Her disheveled hair—brown—needed a trim, partly curled into an odd look; the lipstick on her upper lip was painted higher on one side than the other; I don't know whether she forgot to button the button or the button was stretched; the silk stocking on the left leg is still missing.

That's the Dinah Brand they told me could pick any man in Drug Town. "His father must have sent you," she said, removing a pair of lizard slippers, teacup and saucer from the chair to make room for me. Her voice was lazy and soft. I told her the truth: "Donald Wilson called me. I was waiting to see him when he was killed." "Don't go, Dan," she called to Rolf. Dan returns to the room.She sat back at the table, and he sat opposite her, with his thin face resting on his thin hands, looking at me dully. She frowned, with two wrinkles between her eyebrows, and asked, "You mean he knows someone wants to kill him?"

"I don't know. He didn't say what he wanted me to do. Maybe he just helped promote the reform movement!" "but you--" I protested, "As a detective, it's no fun to find out that someone is taking your job and asking you too many questions." "I wonder what the hell is going on," she said, a giggle deep in her throat. "Everything. Like, I wonder why you asked him to write you a certified check." Dan Rolfe shifted nonchalantly in his chair, leaned back, and hid his bony hands under the table. "It seems you've found out about it?" asked Dinah Brand.She put her left leg on her right leg, lowered her head, and stared at the place where the silk stockings came off. "I swear to God, I don't want to wear this thing again!" she complained. It's all like that - off silk, off silk, off silk!"

"It's no secret," I said. "I mean the check. It wasn't the silk stockings. Noonan found out." She looked at Rolf.He didn't look at me for a while, long enough for him to nod. "If we speak the same language," she said slowly, squinting at me, "maybe I can help you a little." "The premise is that I have to know what language it is." "Money," she explained. "The more the merrier. I like money." I used a proverb: "A penny saved is a penny earned. I can save you money and take pain away." "That doesn't make sense to me," she said, "although it sounds like it."

"The police didn't come to ask you about the check?" She shook her head, indicating no. I said, "Nonan's going to blame you and the Whisperer." "Don't scare me," she said, biting her tongue, "I'm just a kid." "Nonan knew that Thaler knew about the checks; he knew that Thaler came, though not in, when Wilson was here; he knew that Thaler was hanging around when Wilson was shot; he also Know that Thaler and a woman bent over the dead." The woman picked up a pencil from the table and scratched her cheek thoughtfully.The pencil draws a small, squiggly black line on the blush.

The tiredness in Rolf's eyes disappeared, and bright eyes stared wildly at mine.He leaned forward, his hands still hidden under the table. "Those things," he said, "are about Tarrell, not about Miss Bland." "Tarrell and Miss Bland are no strangers," I said. "Wilson came over with a check for five thousand dollars, and was killed as soon as he left. So, when Miss Bland cashed it, she might There will be trouble—thanks to Wilson's thoughtfulness in securing the check in advance." "My God!" the woman protested. "If I want to kill him, I can do it in the room so that no one will see. Or wait for him to go further and leave the house. What kind of fool do you think I am?" egg?"

"I didn't say you killed him," I said, "but I'm pretty sure the fat police chief wanted to blame you for it." "What on earth do you want?" she asked. "Find out who killed him. Not who might have killed him or who might have killed him, but who killed him." "I can help you a little," she said, "but I need something." "Safe?" I remind her, but she shakes her head. "I mean the financial advantage. You've got to pay something, even if it's not a lot of money, for something that's valuable to you."

"Impossible." I grinned at her. "Forget the bank rolls and do something good! Just pretend I'm Bill Quint." Dan Rolfe rose from his chair, lips as pale as his face.When the woman laughed—it was a lazy, good-natured laugh—he sat down again. "Dan, he thought I didn't take advantage of Bill." She leaned over and put a hand on my knee, "If you knew a company's employees were going to strike, or knew that a certain A strike plan will be cancelled, and you know the exact time, so will you take advantage of the news, get some money to speculate in this company's stock in the stock market, and get some benefits for yourself? I bet you will! ’ she concluded triumphantly, ‘So, don’t think Bill didn’t pay.

"You're spoiled," I said. "For God's sake, why are you so stingy?" She asked, "It's not from your pocket, can't you reimburse it?" I didn't speak.She frowned at me, looked at her unthreaded stockings, looked at Rolf, and said to him, "Maybe he'll relax with a drink." The thin man got up and walked out of the room. She pouted at me, poked my calf with her toe, and said, "It's not about money, it's about principles. A woman has something that is valuable to others. If she doesn't charge a fee, then she is Fool." I laughed. "Why don't you be a good person?" she begged. Dan Rolfe walks in with a siphon jug, a bottle of gin, sliced ​​lemons and a bowl of crushed ice.We each had a drink.Tuberculosis patients left.The woman and I had a few more drinks as we argued about money.I was trying to keep the conversation on Thaler and Wilson, but she was trying to get the money she deserved.This went on until the gin bottle was empty and my watch told me it was fifteen past one. Biting a piece of lemon peel, she repeated for the thirteenth or fourteenth time: "It's not from your pocket, why do you care so much?" "It's not about money," I said, "it's about principles." She made a face at me and placed the glass where she thought it was a table — eight inches away.I don't remember if the glass shattered on the floor or what happened.Just remembering her blunders bolstered my courage. "And one more thing," I opened a new argument, "I'm not sure if the information you've given me is really useful. Maybe I can do without them. I think I can." "That would be best, but don't forget, I was the last person to see him alive—except for his murderer." "No," I said, "his wife saw him come out of the building, into the street, and fall down." "His wife!" "Yes, she's sitting in a car parked on the street." "How does she know he's here?" "She said Thaler called her and said her husband was here with a check." "You're trying to lie to me," said the girl. "Max has no way of knowing." "That's what Mrs. Wilson told me and Noonan." The girl spat the lemon zest on the floor and ran her fingers through her hair, messing up the already messy hair.She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and slapped it on the table. "Well, Mr. Know-It-All," she said, "I've decided to play with you! You don't have to pay a penny, but I'll get what I deserve before we get this whole thing over. You think I Can't it be done?" She stared at me defiantly, as if I were a block away. I didn't have time to argue with her about money anymore, so I said, "I hope you will." I think I said that three or four times, in a rather sincere tone. "I will. Now listen to me, you're drunk, and I'm drunk, just drunk enough to say anything you want to know. I'm that kind of woman—if I like someone, I'll say All he wants to know. Just ask! Quick, ask!" I asked. "Why did Wilson give you five thousand dollars?" "Because it's fun." She leaned back, laughed, and continued, "Look, he's collecting scandals. I have what he wants, some paperwork and good stuff that I think might spark a little change one day .I'm a woman who won't let go of a chance to make a little money, so I collect these things. When Donna Wilson starts to reform, I let him know that I have something to sell. I first give He took a look and let him know it was all good stuff--and it was. And we started talking about the price. He wasn't stingy like you--nobody was stingy--but he wasn't too far off. So , until yesterday, our deal has not been negotiated yet. "Then I prodded him a bit by calling and telling him another client wanted these things and if he wanted it, he'd have five thousand bucks in cash or a guaranteed check that night. It's all bullshit, but he just got here Before long, it's easy to get hooked." "Why about ten o'clock in the evening?" I asked. "Why not? What's wrong with this timing? It's important to give them an exact timing with this kind of transaction. Now you want to ask why cash or guaranteed check? Okay, I tell you! What do you want to know I can tell you. I'm that kind of woman, always have been." She went on like this for another five minutes, telling me in detail what kind of woman she was, had always been, and why.I go "yes, yeah" until I get a chance to chime in and say, "Well, why do you have to guarantee the check?" She closed one eye, shook her index finger and said to me: "This way he can't go back on his word. Because he can't use what I sold him. It's good, yes, great, it will make his old man Send him and the rest to the prison, and Father Elihu will be locked up." I laughed along with her while trying to keep my brain above my full belly of gin. "Who else will suffer?" I asked. "All the damn guys." She waved her hand. "Max, Lou Yard, Pete, Noonan, Elihu Wilson—all the fucking guys." "Does Max Thaler know what you're doing?" "Of course not—no one but Donna Wilson." "you sure?" "Sure, very sure. You don't think I'm going to talk about it all the time, bragging about it?" "Who do you think knows now?" "I don't care," she said, "I was just kidding, there's no way he'd use those things." "Do you think the brutes would be amused by the secret you sold? Noonan wants to blame you and Thaler for the murder, which means he found it in Donna Wilson's pocket. That stuff. They all thought old Elihu was using his son to beat them, didn't they?" "Yes, sir," she said, "I think so too." "You may be wrong, but that's all right. If Noonan found in Donna Wilson's pocket what you sold him, and knew you sold him, why couldn't he deduce from that that you And your friend Thaler has joined old Elihu's side?" "Because he could see that old Elihu would be hurt as badly as anyone else." "What the hell did you sell him?" "Three years ago, they built a new city hall," she said, "and no one paid a dime. If Noonan found those documents, they would find that these people were all related to old Eli Rest, at least more than anyone else." People are all connected.” "It won't change a thing. He'll see it as a gift from the old guy. Girl, take my word for it, Noonan and his friends think you're in collusion with Thaler and Elihu them." "I don't give a damn what they think," she said savagely, "It was just a joke. I just took it as a joke, that's all." "Very well," I roared, "then you go to the gallows with a clean conscience! Did you see Thaler after the murder?" "No. But Thaler didn't kill him - if you think so - even though he was around." "why?" "There are many reasons. One, Max won't do it himself, he can call someone else to do it, and guarantee himself an alibi that no one can shake. Second, Max's gun is a .38 caliber, and he sends it out to work The guys carry guns of about the same size, or bigger. Which gunman uses a .32?" "Who did that?" "I've told you everything I know," she said. "I've told you too much." I stood up and said, "No, what you told me was just right." "You mean you already know who killed him?" "Yes, but I have a thing or two to do before I jump to conclusions." "Who? Who is it?" She stood up, suddenly almost fully awake, and grabbed my collar, "Tell me who it is!" "not now." "Good job." "not now." She let go of my collar, put her hands behind her back, and laughed at me. "Well, keep it to yourself—try to figure out which part of what I'm saying is true." I said, "Anyway, I'd like to thank the real part, and your gin. If Max Thaler has any friendship with you, send him a note and tell him that Noonan wants to have a good tease he."

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