The Blonde Died Dancing (11 page)

Anita:
It’s not even twelve-thirty… the evening’s young yet.

Stubby:
Not for Stubby, it’s not young. That’s cause I’m drunk…

Anita:
No, you’re not…

Stubby:
Sure I am. Very, very drunk. Tonight’s the night to get drunk. Everybody should get drunk tonight. Why aren’t you drunk? It’s your duty…

Anita:
Stubby, Wake up! Please, Stubby…

Stubby:
Tired, so tired…

Anita:
Here, Stubby, this’ll make you feel better, this’ll wake you up.

Stubby:
Don’t like Scotch… I’m a Bourbon baby…

Anita:
Here’s to us, Stubby… bottoms up. There, now you can talk to me, can’t you? Walter didn’t fall out that window, did he?

Stubby:
Who cares about Walter?

Anita:
You did the world a favor, think of it that way.

Stubby:
Sure, that’s me… I do the world favors. But did the world ever do anything for me? Since I was a little kid at my mother’s knee? Nah. You can have the world. It’s off my list.

Anita:
You should get a medal for giving Walter that little push…

Stubby:
What good’s a medal? Or do you mean a gold medal?

Anita:
That took a lot of courage…

Stubby:
Yeah, that’s what I got, huh? Courage… that’s a polite word, not like guts. Tell me it again, baby…

Anita:
You’ve got all the courage there is, Stubby. Did you kill Walter?

Stubby:
Somebody had to kill him. Should a guy like that live?

Anita:
How did you manage it, Stubby? Just how drunk was Walter? As drunk as you are now?

Stubby:
Drunker… the dope was even drunker… sittin’ on a window sill like that… a sittin’ duck…

Anita:
So you could make it look like an accident, huh? That was smart, Stubby… last August, and the police still think it was an accident…

Stubby:
Never thought any different. Oh, I’m smart, all right. I’m tired, too… I’m tired…

Anita:
Wait, Stubby, don’t fold up now…

Stubby:
I’m so tired I should get a gold medal for it…

Anita:
Wait, Stubby… oh, damn you, Stubby…

A telephone bell shrilled; it was cut off on its second ring.

Anita:
Hello? Well, thanks… and the same to you. Who is it? Oh, just a second…

The recording ended; that was all, that was the end of the last tape. Steve turned off the recorder. He turned to me; we just looked at each other for a moment or two. Then Steve was shaking his head, more in sorrow than in wonder.

“The human race,” he said, “can be very, very good or very, very bad. That last bit there… what a charming couple, Anita and Stubby. That was a nice night’s work for Anita.”

“Stubby committed a murder… and Anita was blackmailing him for it. He’s the one who killed her, Steve, he must have!”

“Well, we know he was capable of that sort of thing. We know for sure he killed Walter.”

“Walter,” I said. “Walter who?”

“Stubby,” Steve said. “Stubby who?”

The next morning
Steve and I walked down Lexington Avenue together. He was on his way to the office for two reasons. A: the relatively unimportant one of giving his boss the impression that he was still working for his newspaper; B: to dig into the back number files to see if he could learn anything about the apparently accidental death of a man named Walter in the month of August.

I was on my way to the Crescent School of Dancing for a number of reasons. Perhaps Leone Webb, having lived with Anita, might know of a man called Stubby. And there were some questions which Steve had thought up for me to ask Jack Walston and Dottie Harris.

We parted at Fifty-ninth Street. Steve took a subway downtown. I walked over to Madison, then south on it.

I had almost reached the entrance of the school’s building when two gentlemen darted in off the street toward the lobby. One of them was Detective Lieutenant Bolling, the other his partner, Hankins.

Five minutes later I dared to follow the two boys up the elevator shaft. I held my breath as the car’s doors opened on the fourteenth floor. Then I relaxed a little. Bolling and Hankins hadn’t tarried in the reception room.

Leone was busy at her desk with some people, but she had time to spot me. She gave me a message. Mr. Bell wanted to see me now, at once, before my first lesson. I thanked Leone, but I didn’t mean it. The message had re-set my nerves to jumping.

I opened the door of my employer’s office just an inch. The sight of him alone, without the company of any policemen, soothed me… but not completely. My position on Mr. Bell’s faculty was too delicate a hypocrisy to stand any interest in me from him. He smiled at me and, as royalty does, bade me sit.

I sat.

“Well, Hester!”

I smiled back at him, hoping to build up some good labor-capital relations. Our grins seemed to make the very walls of the elegant office shiver in delight.

“Well, Hester! This is your second day with us!”

“Yes, Mr. Bell, I was just thinking about that. This is my second day!”

“And how are things going? Was yesterday difficult for you?”

“Difficult? Mr. Bell,” I said fervently, “I shall always consider yesterday one of the most thrilling days of my life.”

I didn’t add that I hoped I would never have another like it. I just sat nodding and beaming at my master.

“Ah,” Mr. Bell said. He actually said, “Ah.”

“Yes,” I said. “Oh, yes!”

“Then you find teaching gratifying, do you?”

“Gratifying? Mr. Bell, I said thrilling. To take those poor, stumbling, awkward men and help them achieve grace, poise and social well-being through dancing is thrilling. Thrilling!”

“I take it then, Hester, that you will be with us for a good long while.”

I turned pale inside. What a glib, monstrous liar I was becoming. If this was habit-forming, I would hardly be a fit mother for the small group of children Steve and I were planning. But then I remembered the reason for all this chicanery. After all, it would hardly be a boon to our little ones to have had their daddy tried for murder… fortunately for my morale, Mr. Bell broke up my dire thinking.

“Well, Hester, I just wanted to make sure you were happy with us,”

“Very happy, Mr. Bell.”

“If you ever have any difficulties or problems, don’t hesitate to come to me.” Hastily, he added, “I mean problems involving your work here.”

“I understand, and thank you. Oh, Mr. Bell…”

I had just noticed an ugly blotch on his immaculate white shirt collar. I was sure he would want to know about such an unfortunate untidiness.

“Yes, Hester?”

“I’m sure you’d want to know… there’s something on your collar. You must have cut yourself shaving.” He was perplexed. “No… no, I use an Electric razor.” I got up and leaned across the desk toward him. “Oh, sorry,” I said. “It’s nothing, just some lipstick.”

“Lipstick!” Mr. Bell was mortified. “No, it must be blood. I mean…”

“No, it’s lipstick, all right. Don’t worry.”

He strode across the room, examined himself in a wall mirror… and my brain buzzed. While his back was still to me, I opened my purse. My yesterday’s gloves were still in it. The orange stain from the mouth of my assailant outside Anita’s apartment sparkled up at me. It was similar enough to the stain on Mr. Bell’s collar to almost convince me they were identical. Unless Mr. Bell was unfaithful in his devotion to Leone Webb, I knew who my assailant was. But I wanted to make sure. I closed in on my man.

“Mr. Bell,” I said.

He turned back to me, his face flushed like a trapped schoolboy. “Hester,” he said, “Hester, I can’t imagine how… well…”

“Mr. Bell, don’t be embarrassed. I understand completely.”

“You… understand?”

“I knew it the moment I saw you together. You were being so distant to each other, so businesslike. But I could see it.”

“See what?”

“Between you… you and Leone Webb. Congratulations, Mr. Bell.”

“Good Lord… you’re sharp!”

“About love… yes. When will you be married? Soon, I hope… for both your sakes.”

“Look here, Hester…”

“Yes?”

“Before I change my shirt I’m going to confide in you. I feel I must explain.”

“Is it necessary to explain, Mr. Bell? Has the climate of our times made that necessary? I’m not investigating you, sir.”

“No, no… you see, I’ve made such a point of keeping the relationships here in my school completely businesslike. You can imagine how my conscience tortured me as I found myself attracted by, then drawn inevitably toward Miss Webb.”

“You may call her Leone.”

“Then to my horror, Leone reciprocated my affection and… well…”

“Put it bluntly, Mr. Bell. You developed a terrific yen for each other. You fought against it. You lost. I don’t blame either of you. So you’re going to be married. When?”

“Well, I thought we should wait a year. To make certain, you know.” He was smiling now, happy in his love. “We were planning to be married on New Year’s Eve.”

“That’s a good way to begin a year.”

“Yes, it pleases me.” He chuckled in the throes of a fond remembrance. “You see, it was on New Year’s Eve that I proposed to Leone. Actually, it was quite unromantic. I proposed by telephone.”

“That could be unsatisfactory.”

“Yes, it was impetuous of me to spoil it like that. We had gone to a small restaurant where I was sure we wouldn’t be seen… and Leone was so irresistible… well, after I had taken her home, I went home and actually paced the floor. Then I did it. I telephoned her a tittle after midnight and proposed.”

“And she accepted. Right then and there.”

“Yes,” Mr. Bell sighed. “Yes.”

“Congratulations. She’s a wonderful girl.”

“Yes… oh, yes.”

The phone rang; Mr. Bell answered it.

“Hello… oh, hello, my darling…” He jumped, startled, shocked at himself. He cleared the romance from his voice. He said briskly, “Yes, Miss Webb? Oh… send them right in. Thank you.”

He hung up, spoke to me.

“The detectives want to see me, Hester. If you don’t mind…”

“Not at all!” I said quickly. I got to the door, almost through it.

“Hester!”

“Yes, Mr. Bell?”

“I’m sure I can count on you to be discreet…”

“Of course!” I had to get out of here fast. “Absolutely!”

“Perhaps if you feel your salary is inadequate…”

“No! Oh, no, sir! Thank you, sir!”

The conversation and everything about the interview had been pretty badly strained and I managed to get out of the office, across the corridor, and behind the door of an empty studio just in time. Through the peephole I saw Hankins and Bolling march past and disappear into Mr. Bell’s office. I slid out of my hiding place and headed for the reception room. I could probably count on a few uninterrupted moments with Miss Leone Webb.

My hand went automatically to the tender spot on my skull. I knew now that Leone had put it there. She had been one of the select clientele on Anita’s blackmailing list and it was she who had snatched the set of recordings in the other lamp in Anita’s living room. Among them would be a recorded dialogue that involved Leone, that would explain why Anita was able to, blackmail her. My interest in Leone was strong.

But she wasn’t at her desk and I couldn’t wait for her.

I had a lesson to give and I didn’t want to run the risk of having my pupil complain about my inattention to him. I hurried through the reception room and down the corridor to Studio K.

I opened the door, stepped inside… and it was all I could do to keep from turning around and heading for the hills. The pupil waiting for his lesson was Wendell Kipp.

He was as surprised as I. But, while my surprise turned into a stampede of confusion, his blossomed into a kind of insidious joy. His smile was a drool, his velvet eyes dripped delight.

“Well,” he said. “Well, well and well.”

I struggled to get my voice back on its feet.

“Well, yes!” I said. “Imagine! What a small world! No, it can’t be that small… you can’t be the man I met at the Feather Club last night…”

“Oh, but yes…”

“No, as a matter of fact, I wasn’t in the Feather Club last night.”

I shut up. I realized that my poise was still down, still out.

Kipp was walking toward me. He put his insistent hands on my shoulders. I tried to step away, but he held me.

“Baby, what goes? Last night your name was Gloria. Today… here it’s Hester Frost, I’m told. What goes?”

“Goes?”

“Last night you just happen to be in a bar where the Waltzer turns up. When I recognized him, you just happened to disappear. This morning you just happen to have Anita’s job. What gives?”

“For that matter,” I said, “what gives with you? Last night you said you took your lessons on Wednesday… just before the Waltzer. What are you doing here now?”

“I take three lessons a week, baby,” he said. “This is one of my regular times.”

“Oh,” I said. “Listen, Mr. Kipp…”

“Last night you called me Wendell. Last night you were real friendly. How come you picked me up?”

“I
picked you up?”

“You had a reason for it, didn’t you?”

“Listen…”

“No, on second thought, don’t tell me now. I think it would be more pleasant if you explained it to me over cocktails this evening.”

“Sorry, I’m busy.”

“Not that busy… because I might tip off Mr. Bell about you. Or I might get very conscientious and go to the police.”

“You wouldn’t do that, you…”

“Oh! So it matters. So we will have cocktails tonight. At five? At the Wellington? That’s on Washington Square.”

“No, I can’t…”

“At five at the Wellington. We’ll have fun. Maybe if we have enough fun I won’t even make you explain. Now… teach me to dance, baby.”

“Don’t be silly. And it must be a big disappointment to you… finding me here, instead of some
baby
you could line up for yourself with this phony learn-to-dance business.”

“Oh, not at all! Don’t be modest. I really like you… baby.”