the evening?” Herron asked.
“I don’t know. Some young man or other.”
“Where is he?”
“I couldn’t tell you that, sir.”
“I think we’ll throw you out now, lovin’ cup,” said the detective. “Shall I throw him out, Herron?”
“No. Mr. Paar may stay. As soon as his lady friend has recovered, he’ll want to take her home, I’m sure.”
Paar was very anxious to take Selma home. He didn’t like Herron. Polite cops made him uncomfortable and Herron smelled like FBI.
“Selma, are you ready to leave?”
“Oh, Jaysis,” she said, holding her head.
“Did they annoy you, Selma? Question you?”
“Jaysis.”
Paar couldn’t make anything of that remark and it upset him. He straightened himself and looked at Herron. “I demand an explanation. What is this lady doing here?”
“She is suffering from a hangover,” the detective said.
“And we wanted some information from her about an acquaintance of hers,” Herron added.
“Well, you must realize by now that you’re wasting your time,” Paar said. “If I can be of any assistance—”
“No, thank you, Mr. Paar. Our information is complete, for the moment.”
“If you’re wondering about her escort, Mr. Catell has left town New York, I think.”
Herron shifted his head slightly and the man next tohim made notes on a stenographer’s pad in front of him.
“You didn’t know this?” said Paar, who had noticed the movement.
“No. We were actually interested in one Otto Schumacher.”
Paar cursed himself under his breath. Now they had Catell tagged and Paar himself had done the damage. He smiled nervously.
“Well, it’s of no consequence. And as I was saying, Mr. Catell was here only briefly. He mentioned to me how anxious he was to get back to New York. In fact, I believe he took the one-o’clock train.”
Herron made no comment. The stenographer was sharpening his pencil, the detective stood near the wall picking his teeth, and the fourth man was holding a paper cup of water to Selma’s lips.
“Oh, Jaysis!” she said.
The silence made Paar uncomfortable. He still didn’t know whether they had got anything out of Selma.
“If you gentlemen are through, I believe I’ll accompany the lady home now.” Paar took Selma by the arm.
“Of course, Mr. Paar. We’ll be in touch with her. And you,” Herron added.
Paar helped Selma out of the chair. One shoulder of her deep-cut dress was slipping down her arm and her left stocking sagged She looked terrible. Outside, even the cold night air didn’t seem to help her. Selma sat in one corner of Paar’s big limousine, never saying a word. Nor did Paar. It could wait till morning, he figured. He and Selma were going to stick together for a while, seeing they were both after the same man. Meanwhile, there’d be some compensations, and he looked at Selma’s inert figure leaning in the corner of the seat.
“End of the line,” Paar said in a cheery voice. It didn’t cheer Selma.
“Jaysis,” she said.
He helped her out of the car and into the apartment building. They went up in the elevator. Once in the apartment, Paar locked the door.
“Selma, dear, sit down and be comfortable. Your wrap, oops, thank you. And now, sweet, the hair of the dog for you.”
Selma straightened up and patted her hair. She looked more animated now and struck a saucy pose. The dress had slipped off one shoulder again.
Paar sat down next to Selma and handed her a glass of straight whisky. She drank it fast, wrinkling her eyes at him over the rim of the glass.
“Paar, baby, you’re a lover.” She put a whisky-wet kiss on his big forehead.
“How would you know?” Paar said. He patted her shoulder. “But it’s good to see you cheered up again, Selma. Your ordeal at the station—”
“One more, Paar baby.” She handed him her empty glass.
“Did they question you long, dear?” Paar refilled Selma’s glass and held it just out of reach.
“Come on, baby, come on.” He gave her the
“I don’t know. Some young man or other.”
“Where is he?”
“I couldn’t tell you that, sir.”
“I think we’ll throw you out now, lovin’ cup,” said the detective. “Shall I throw him out, Herron?”
“No. Mr. Paar may stay. As soon as his lady friend has recovered, he’ll want to take her home, I’m sure.”
Paar was very anxious to take Selma home. He didn’t like Herron. Polite cops made him uncomfortable and Herron smelled like FBI.
“Selma, are you ready to leave?”
“Oh, Jaysis,” she said, holding her head.
“Did they annoy you, Selma? Question you?”
“Jaysis.”
Paar couldn’t make anything of that remark and it upset him. He straightened himself and looked at Herron. “I demand an explanation. What is this lady doing here?”
“She is suffering from a hangover,” the detective said.
“And we wanted some information from her about an acquaintance of hers,” Herron added.
“Well, you must realize by now that you’re wasting your time,” Paar said. “If I can be of any assistance—”
“No, thank you, Mr. Paar. Our information is complete, for the moment.”
“If you’re wondering about her escort, Mr. Catell has left town New York, I think.”
Herron shifted his head slightly and the man next tohim made notes on a stenographer’s pad in front of him.
“You didn’t know this?” said Paar, who had noticed the movement.
“No. We were actually interested in one Otto Schumacher.”
Paar cursed himself under his breath. Now they had Catell tagged and Paar himself had done the damage. He smiled nervously.
“Well, it’s of no consequence. And as I was saying, Mr. Catell was here only briefly. He mentioned to me how anxious he was to get back to New York. In fact, I believe he took the one-o’clock train.”
Herron made no comment. The stenographer was sharpening his pencil, the detective stood near the wall picking his teeth, and the fourth man was holding a paper cup of water to Selma’s lips.
“Oh, Jaysis!” she said.
The silence made Paar uncomfortable. He still didn’t know whether they had got anything out of Selma.
“If you gentlemen are through, I believe I’ll accompany the lady home now.” Paar took Selma by the arm.
“Of course, Mr. Paar. We’ll be in touch with her. And you,” Herron added.
Paar helped Selma out of the chair. One shoulder of her deep-cut dress was slipping down her arm and her left stocking sagged She looked terrible. Outside, even the cold night air didn’t seem to help her. Selma sat in one corner of Paar’s big limousine, never saying a word. Nor did Paar. It could wait till morning, he figured. He and Selma were going to stick together for a while, seeing they were both after the same man. Meanwhile, there’d be some compensations, and he looked at Selma’s inert figure leaning in the corner of the seat.
“End of the line,” Paar said in a cheery voice. It didn’t cheer Selma.
“Jaysis,” she said.
He helped her out of the car and into the apartment building. They went up in the elevator. Once in the apartment, Paar locked the door.
“Selma, dear, sit down and be comfortable. Your wrap, oops, thank you. And now, sweet, the hair of the dog for you.”
Selma straightened up and patted her hair. She looked more animated now and struck a saucy pose. The dress had slipped off one shoulder again.
Paar sat down next to Selma and handed her a glass of straight whisky. She drank it fast, wrinkling her eyes at him over the rim of the glass.
“Paar, baby, you’re a lover.” She put a whisky-wet kiss on his big forehead.
“How would you know?” Paar said. He patted her shoulder. “But it’s good to see you cheered up again, Selma. Your ordeal at the station—”
“One more, Paar baby.” She handed him her empty glass.
“Did they question you long, dear?” Paar refilled Selma’s glass and held it just out of reach.
“Come on, baby, come on.” He gave her the
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