Read 1945 - Blonde's Requiem for Free Online Page A

facing me. “ What ’ s the matter with this town? When I got off the train I felt . . . ” She stopped and then went on: “ Oh, never mind, I guess the heat has made me nervy. ”
    “ What did you feel? ” I asked, taking her slim hand in mine.
    “ I felt scared. There ’ s something about this place that makes me nervous. It ’ s so hard and dirty and cold. There ’ s a queer kind of ‘ frightened atmosphere about the people. Have you noticed it, or am I just imagining it? ”
    “ It ’ s dirty and hard and cold all right, ” I said, being purposely casual. “ But that needn ’ t scare you— ”
    ‘ You weren ’ t kidding about the girls who ’ ve disappeared? ” she broke in. “ I mean you really are going to try and find them? ”
    “ Sure, but that ’ s nothing to do with the town. Girls disappear in any town. Why have you suddenly thought about them? ”
    “ I don ’ t know. Oh, I guess I ’ m tired. I ’ ll be all right in the morning. ”
    While she was speaking the cab drew up outside the hotel. “ That ’ s the idea, ” I said, helping her out. “ Now you get off to bed. ”
    I paid the driver and followed her up the steps and across the verandah.
    Two dim figures sat in rocking chairs on the verandah. I saw them glance in my direction, but I thought nothing of it. I strolled across the lobby to the desk.
    “ Good evening, ” the clerk said, looking at Marian and then at me. His sallow face showed his disapproval. “ Two gentlemen are waiting to see you. ”
    “ Waiting to see me? ” I repeated.
    He nodded. “ They ’ re out on the verandah. ”
    “ Thanks, ” I said, and turned to Marian, who was watching me with a worried look in her eyes. “ You go on up and get some sleep, ” I said. “ It ’ s been a swell evening. ”
    “ Thanks a lot, ” she said. “ I enjoyed it too. ” She hesitated, then turned to the stairs.
    I called “ Good night ” after her and then turned back to the clerk. “ Who are these fellows? ” I asked, lighting a cigarette and giving him a hard look.
    “ One of them is Mr. McArthur, ” he returned indifferently. “ I didn ’ t see the other one. ”
    McArthur! That could only mean one thing. He had thought over what I had said, given his wife the slip and was ready to talk. “ Okay, ” I said, “ I ’ ll see them, ” and I walked out onto the verandah.
    McArthur peered at me and got hastily to his feet. “ Mr. Spewack? ” he said cautiously. “ Yes, I see it is. Mr. Spewack, I want to apologize “
    “ Forget it, ” I said, hooking one of the rocking chairs towards me with my foot. “ If you want my help you can have it. ”
    The other figure stood up and came into the light. He was young, slight and a few inches shorter than me. His suit was well cut but worn carelessly. His necktie had worked round until it was nearly natter-his right ear.
    “ This is Ted Esslinger, ” McArthur said in a low voice. “ I ’ ve talked things user with him and we ’ ve decided to see you. ”
    “ You Max Esslinger ’ s son? ” I said, looking at him with sudden interest.
    “ I am, ” he said, offering his hand.
    I stared at him. He had a fine head. His black wavy hair was taken straight back and his face was pale, sensitive and pleasant.
    I shook hands rather blankly and looked at McArthur for a lead.
    But it was Ted Esslinger who took charge. “ Mr. Spewack, ” he said, keeping his voice down, “ you can appreciate I ’ m in an embarrassing position. Is there any place we can go where we can talk without interruption? ”
    I remembered the man in the room next to mine and shook my head. “ Not in my room, ” I said. “ Suggest some place and I ’ ll come with you. ”
    Ted looked at McArthur and then shrugged. “ I ’ ve got my car, ” he said. “ We can talk as I drive. ”
    “ That suits me, ” I said, and followed him down the steps of the hotel.
    We crossed the street to where a Pontiac convertible stood in the