Chapter 3 Chapter Three Three Women
When Spade arrived at the office at ten o'clock the next morning, Effie Palin was sitting at her desk checking the morning's mail.Even with her healthy suntanned skin, her boyish face was pale.She put down a stack of envelopes and paper cutters in her hand, and said, "She's inside." Her voice was very soft, with a hint of warning.
"I told you not to let her come," Spade complained.His voice is also very soft.
Effie Palin's brown eyes widened, and her voice sounded as angry as his: "Yeah, but you didn't tell me how to keep her from coming." Her eyelids drooped a little, her shoulders drooped "Come on, Sam," she said wearily, "I've been with her all night."
Spade stood beside the girl and put one hand on her head, smoothing her hair from the parting line to the sides. "I'm sorry, honey, I didn't—" He stopped when the inner door opened.
"Hello, Eva," he said to the woman who answered the door.
"Oh, Sam!" she said.She is a blond woman in her thirties, her face is about five years after her prime, and her body is well-maintained with a well-proportioned but healthy vitality.She was dressed in black from head to toe, and this mourning dress seemed to have been put together hastily.After saying hello, she went back to the door and stood there waiting for Spade.
He took his hand off Effie Palin's head, went into the inner office, and closed the door.Eva walked quickly to him, raised her sad face and let him kiss her.Before he could hug her, her arms were around him.After they kissed, Spade moved a little, as if to let her go, but she pressed her face to his chest and began to sob.
"Poor baby," Spade said, caressing her curvaceous back, softly in his voice, but angry in his eyes.He stared sideways at the desk that belonged to his partner, which was across the room from his own.He pursed his lips together, made an impatient grimace, and turned his chin away so as not to touch the top of her hat. "Did you send someone to inform Miles' brother?" he asked.
"Well, he came over this morning." She was still sobbing, her lips pressed against his coat, which made her voice sound muffled.
He grimaced again, and glanced down at the watch on his wrist secretly.He put his left arm around her, and put his hand on her left shoulder. His cuffs were pulled up to reveal his watch, which showed ten past ten.
The woman felt something in his arms, and raised her face again.Her blue eyes were wide open with tears, their circles were white, and her lips were moist. "Oh, Sam," she wailed, "did you kill him?"
Spade stared at her, his eyes bulging, his thin face drawn long.He took his arms away from her and took another step back to free her arms.He stared at her angrily and cleared his throat.She raised her arms and maintained the posture just now, her eyes were blurred by tears of pain, her eyelashes were half drooping, her brows were tightly frowned, and her soft and moist red lips trembled slightly.
"Ha!" Spade gave a piercing laugh, and walked to the beige-draped window.He stood with his back to her, watching the yard through the curtains until she came toward him.Then he turned quickly, went to the desk and sat down, elbows on it, chin between his fists, looking at her, yellow eyes twinkling under narrowed lids.He asked coldly, "Who put this clever idea into your head?"
"I thought—" She put a hand over her mouth, tears welling in her eyes.She walked over and stood by the table. The pair of slender black sandals on her feet had extremely high heels, and she walked gracefully but steadily. "Sam, be nice to me," she said humbly.
He made fun of her like she said, his eyes flickering: "You killed my husband, Sam, be nice to me." He clapped his hands and sighed, "God!"
She burst into tears, covering her face with a white handkerchief.He got up and stood behind her, wrapped his arms around her, kissed the back of her ear, and said, "Okay, Eva, don't cry." His face was expressionless.When she stopped crying, he put his mouth to her ear and murmured, "You shouldn't be here today, honey, it's not wise. You can't stay here; you should stay home."
She turned to face him in his arms and asked, "Are you coming tonight?"
He shook his head gently: "Not tonight."
"How many days?"
"it is good."
"What day is that?"
"I'll come when I'm free." He kissed her on the lips, led her to the door, opened it, and said, "Goodbye, Eva." After he bowed to send her out, he closed the door, returned to the desk, He took the tobacco and rolling papers out of his vest pocket, but did not roll his own.He sat there, paper in one hand, tobacco in the other, gazing at his dead partner's desk, lost in thought.
Effie Palin opened the door and walked in.Her brown eyes were disturbed, and her voice was relaxed."How's it going?" she asked. Spade said nothing, his pensive eyes still on his partner's desk.The girl frowned and walked over to him. "What?" she asked, raising her voice. "How's it going with you and that widow?"
"She thought I killed Miles," he said, moving only his lips.
"So you can marry her?"
Spade didn't answer.The girl took his hat off his head and put it on the table.Then she bent down and took the tobacco and rolling papers from between his stiff fingers.
"The police thought I killed Thursby," he said.
"Who is this man?" she asked, taking a piece of rolling paper from her bag and spreading the tobacco on it.
"Who do you think I killed?" he asked.Seeing that she ignored the question, he added, "Thursby is the one Miles was going to follow for that girl named Wendley."
Her slender fingers were already rolling the cigarette.She licked the edge of the paper, flattened the seal, twisted the ends, and put the cigarette into Spade's mouth.
"Thanks, honey," he said, wrapping his arms around her slender waist, resting his face wearily on her hip, and closing his eyes.
"Will you marry Eva?" she asked, looking down at his light brown hair.
"Don't be stupid," he muttered.The unlit cigarette bobbed up and down with the movement of his lips.
"She doesn't think it's so silly. How could she? You've been fooling around with her like this."
He sighed and said, "I wish I had never met her."
"You may think so now," the girl's voice carried a hint of resentment, "but it wasn't like that before."
"I never knew what to say or do to a woman, except those things," he complained, "and I didn't like Miles."
"It's a lie, Sam," said the girl. "You know I think she's a mean person, but if I had her size, I'd like to be one."
Spade rubbed his face against her impatiently and said nothing.
Effie Palin bit her lip, frowned, bent down so she could look into his face, and asked, "Do you think it's possible she killed Miles?"
Spade sat up straight, pulled his arms around her waist, and smiled at her as if he thought it was funny.He took out the lighter, lit it with a "snap", and brought the flame to the end of the cigarette. "You're an angel," he said softly, puffing on the smoke, "a good stupid angel."
She sneered. "Oh, really? What if I told you that when I reported to her house at three o'clock in the morning, your Eva just came back from outside?"
"Are you telling me?" he asked.There was still a smile on the corner of his mouth, but his eyes had become alert.
"She was undressing, or had just finished, when she asked me to wait at the door. I saw her clothes piled up on a chair, with her hat and coat underneath, and her vest on top, still warm. .She said she was asleep, but she didn't. She creased the bed, but none of the creases flattened."
Spedera took the girl's hand and patted it. "Honey, you're quite a detective, but—" he shook his head, "she didn't kill him."
Effie withdrew her hand all of a sudden, and said unhappily, "That mean woman wants to marry you, Sam." He shook his head and waved his hands, pretending to be impatient.She frowned and asked him, "did you see her last night?"
"No."
"real?"
"Really. Don't talk like Dundee, honey, it doesn't suit you."
"Dundee looking for you?"
"Well. He and Tom Burrows came to my place for a drink at four o'clock."
"They really think you killed this...what's his name?"
"Thursby." He threw the end of the cigarette into the brass ashtray and rolled another.
"They really think so?" she pressed.
"God knows." His eyes fell on the cigarette in his hand, "They mean something, I don't know how much they listen to what I say."
"Look at me, Sam."
He looked at her with a smile, so her anxious face couldn't help showing a little smile.
"You really worry me." As soon as she opened her mouth, her face became serious again. "You've always had your own ideas, but you're too clever, it's not good. One day you'll understand."
With a mocking sigh, he rubbed his face against her arm.
"That's what Dundee said. Then don't let Eva come to me, sweetheart. I'll find a way to solve other troubles."
He stood up and put on his hat.
"Go and remove the 'Speed & Archer Detective Agency' sign on the door and replace it with 'Samuel Spade Detective Agency.' I'll be back in an hour or I'll call you."
Spade walked through the long purple foyer of the St. Mark's Hotel to the reception desk and asked a fashionable red-haired boy if Miss Wendley was there.The red-haired boy walked away for a moment, then came back shaking his head. "Mr. Spade, she checked out this morning." "thanks." Spade walked past the reception to a room down the hall.There was a fat middle-aged man in dark clothes sitting at a mahogany desk.On the edge of the table facing the hall was a mahogany trivet with the words "Mr. Freed" inlaid in brass. The fat man got up and walked around the table, holding out his hand. "I'm very sorry to hear about Archer, Spade." His tone was well-trained, easy to convey sympathy without being abrupt. "I just saw the news on the Internet. You know, he was here last night." "Thanks, Fried. Have you spoken to him?" "No. I came in early last night, and he was sitting in the hall. I didn't say hello to him. I figured he might be at work, and people in your business like to be alone when they're busy. Does it matter? With his—” "I don't think so, but we don't know yet. Anyway, we try not to involve the hotel." "thanks." "You're welcome. Can you tell me about one of your previous guests without letting anyone know I'm asking?" "no problem." "It's a lady named Wen Deli who checked out this morning. I want to know the details." "Come on," said Fried, "see what we can ask." Spade stood still, shaking his head. "I don't want to talk about it." Fried nodded and walked out of the room.He stopped abruptly in the hall and came back to Spade. "Harriman was on duty last night. He must have seen Archer. Shall I remind him not to speak of it?" Spade squinted at Freed. "It's best not to remind him. Since I can't see anything related to this Wendley at the moment, it doesn't matter whether I say it or not. Harriman is fine, but he is a little talkative. I would rather not let him feel that there is something that needs to be kept secret." Fried nodded again and walked away.Fifteen minutes later, he came back. "She arrived last Tuesday, and she checked in from New York. She has no suitcase, only a few bags. There is no phone number on her room bill, and as for mail, there doesn't seem to be much, if any. The only person seen The person she was with was a tall, dark-skinned man in his mid-thirties. She left the door at half past nine this morning, came back an hour later, paid the bill, had her bag picked up In the car outside. The boy who helped her with the bag said it was a Nash coach, probably rented. She left a forwarding address, the Ambassador Hotel in Los Angeles." Spade said "Thank you, Fried," and left the San Marco Hotel.
When Spade returned to the office, Effie Palin stopped typing and told him, "Your friend Dundee was here just now, and he wanted to see your gun." "and then?" "I told him to come back when you're around." "Good boy. If he comes again, let him see." "Also, Miss Wendley called you." "Time to call. What did she say?" "She wants to see you." The girl picked up a note from the table and read the pencil record on it: "She is in the Crown Apartment on California Street, Room 1001. You said you wanted to see Miss LeBlanc." Spade held out his hand and said, "Give it to me." She handed him the note.He took out his lighter, lit it, lit the note, held it by one corner until the rest curled up and turned to black ash, threw the note on the linoleum floor, and crushed it with the sole of his shoe.The girl looked at him dissatisfied.He grinned at her, said, "That's what it has to do, dear," and went out.
Notes:
Spade walked through the long purple foyer of the St. Mark's Hotel to the reception desk and asked a fashionable red-haired boy if Miss Wendley was there.The red-haired boy walked away for a moment, then came back shaking his head. "Mr. Spade, she checked out this morning." "thanks." Spade walked past the reception to a room down the hall.There was a fat middle-aged man in dark clothes sitting at a mahogany desk.On the edge of the table facing the hall was a mahogany trivet with the words "Mr. Freed" inlaid in brass. The fat man got up and walked around the table, holding out his hand. "I'm very sorry to hear about Archer, Spade." His tone was well-trained, easy to convey sympathy without being abrupt. "I just saw the news on the Internet. You know, he was here last night." "Thanks, Fried. Have you spoken to him?" "No. I came in early last night, and he was sitting in the hall. I didn't say hello to him. I figured he might be at work, and people in your business like to be alone when they're busy. Does it matter? With his—” "I don't think so, but we don't know yet. Anyway, we try not to involve the hotel." "thanks." "You're welcome. Can you tell me about one of your previous guests without letting anyone know I'm asking?" "no problem." "It's a lady named Wen Deli who checked out this morning. I want to know the details." "Come on," said Fried, "see what we can ask." Spade stood still, shaking his head. "I don't want to talk about it." Fried nodded and walked out of the room.He stopped abruptly in the hall and came back to Spade. "Harriman was on duty last night. He must have seen Archer. Shall I remind him not to speak of it?" Spade squinted at Freed. "It's best not to remind him. Since I can't see anything related to this Wendley at the moment, it doesn't matter whether I say it or not. Harriman is fine, but he is a little talkative. I would rather not let him feel that there is something that needs to be kept secret." Fried nodded again and walked away.Fifteen minutes later, he came back. "She arrived last Tuesday, and she checked in from New York. She has no suitcase, only a few bags. There is no phone number on her room bill, and as for mail, there doesn't seem to be much, if any. The only person seen The person she was with was a tall, dark-skinned man in his mid-thirties. She left the door at half past nine this morning, came back an hour later, paid the bill, had her bag picked up In the car outside. The boy who helped her with the bag said it was a Nash coach, probably rented. She left a forwarding address, the Ambassador Hotel in Los Angeles." Spade said "Thank you, Fried," and left the San Marco Hotel.
When Spade returned to the office, Effie Palin stopped typing and told him, "Your friend Dundee was here just now, and he wanted to see your gun." "and then?" "I told him to come back when you're around." "Good boy. If he comes again, let him see." "Also, Miss Wendley called you." "Time to call. What did she say?" "She wants to see you." The girl picked up a note from the table and read the pencil record on it: "She is in the Crown Apartment on California Street, Room 1001. You said you wanted to see Miss LeBlanc." Spade held out his hand and said, "Give it to me." She handed him the note.He took out his lighter, lit it, lit the note, held it by one corner until the rest curled up and turned to black ash, threw the note on the linoleum floor, and crushed it with the sole of his shoe.The girl looked at him dissatisfied.He grinned at her, said, "That's what it has to do, dear," and went out.
Notes: