have cost a lot of money. A diamond-and-ruby bracelet, on her left arm, glittered in the rays of the pine fire.
Ann greeted Peter. "How's the burglary business tonight?"
His face was pleasant with a smile. "I never start work before midnight."
"Then have a drink," Crane said.
James brought cups and fragile inhalers, and Ann poured them coffee from a chromium pot with an arched nose. Crane gave them good portions of brandy. Ann sat in a leather chair. Crane decided her legs were as attractive as Carmel's. They weren't so long, but the knees were better.
Peter said, "What we came over for was..." Crane interrupted him. "I know. You came for your car."
"Oh no."
"It's slightly damaged but it runs," Crane persisted.
"A pebble flew up and made a hole in the window," Ann explained.
"No, it was a bullet," said Crane.
"A passing car." Ann glared at him. "A stone must have shot up from its tires."
"It was an obvious attempt to assassinate us both." Crane said. "I was terrified."
While Ann poured the brandy Carmel said, "What we really came over for was to tell you about the Country Club dance Saturday night." Crane smelled her gardenia perfume.
"I told you Dad fixed you up with a membership," Peter said. "We thought you might like to come with us."
"That's awfully nice of you," Ann said.
"I only dance the bunny hug," Crane said. "Has that got out here yet?"
"Oh yes." Carmel smiled at him. "We do that and the subway dip and turkey in the straw."
"Then I'll come," said Crane decisively. "But you'll have to come to the Crimson Cat with me tomorrow night."
"I think that would be splendid," Carmel said.
They drank some more and soon Crane found himself sitting on the davenport with Carmel. Ann and Peter were in the kitchen. Carmel's skin was very pale, but it had a warm undertone of health; he thought she was a remarkably seductive woman. There was insolence about the arch of her dark brows, passion in her scarlet lips, a contemptuous abandon in the curve of her body on the couch. She had the violet-shaded hollows under her cheekbones Crane admired so much in women.
"Do all the corpses in Marchton smell of gardenias?" he asked.
Her eyes widened for an instant. "What do you mean?" Then they looked directly into his. "Oh, you're remembering this afternoon."
"Yes."
"Talmadge has a malicious tongue."
"But your husband, someone told me he smelled of gardenias," he lied.
Anger brought a faint glow to her eyes. "Why shouldn't he? After all, he was my husband." She leaned toward him so that the gardenia odor was strong in his nostrils. "Who told you?"
"Someone."
"You won't tell?"
"I don't think I better."
"I can guess." She looked at him and he imagined he saw fear and anger in her eyes. "I can guess."
"You have some enemies." He would have liked to know who she was thinking of, but he didn't dare press the matter further. He wanted her to believe he actually knew something.
She was looking at him again. "Why are you so interested?"
"I don't know," he said. "I am, though." She spoke slowly. "You're thinking there's something back of Richard's and John's deaths."
"Perhaps."
"Well, you're right. There is."
He stared at her in silence, hiding his excitement.
"I might as well tell you before you stir up trouble." Her voice was flat. "John March killed himself."
"But why..." he began, and stopped suddenly as Peter and Ann came from the kitchen. He began again, "But why don't they hold the dances at the Town Club?"
"The ballroom isn't as large," Carmel said.
Peter's voice sounded young. "I'm going to scram, give you a chance to get some sleep. Crane's got to be at the office on the dot or Dad'll think he's a loafer."
"What office?" Crane demanded.
Ann said, "You may not remember, darling, but you're employed by March & Company to write about refrigerators."
Crane groaned. "For a happy moment that fact had completely slipped my mind."
Peter asked, "Coming, Carmel?"
"You take your car and I'll walk home. I want to
Ann greeted Peter. "How's the burglary business tonight?"
His face was pleasant with a smile. "I never start work before midnight."
"Then have a drink," Crane said.
James brought cups and fragile inhalers, and Ann poured them coffee from a chromium pot with an arched nose. Crane gave them good portions of brandy. Ann sat in a leather chair. Crane decided her legs were as attractive as Carmel's. They weren't so long, but the knees were better.
Peter said, "What we came over for was..." Crane interrupted him. "I know. You came for your car."
"Oh no."
"It's slightly damaged but it runs," Crane persisted.
"A pebble flew up and made a hole in the window," Ann explained.
"No, it was a bullet," said Crane.
"A passing car." Ann glared at him. "A stone must have shot up from its tires."
"It was an obvious attempt to assassinate us both." Crane said. "I was terrified."
While Ann poured the brandy Carmel said, "What we really came over for was to tell you about the Country Club dance Saturday night." Crane smelled her gardenia perfume.
"I told you Dad fixed you up with a membership," Peter said. "We thought you might like to come with us."
"That's awfully nice of you," Ann said.
"I only dance the bunny hug," Crane said. "Has that got out here yet?"
"Oh yes." Carmel smiled at him. "We do that and the subway dip and turkey in the straw."
"Then I'll come," said Crane decisively. "But you'll have to come to the Crimson Cat with me tomorrow night."
"I think that would be splendid," Carmel said.
They drank some more and soon Crane found himself sitting on the davenport with Carmel. Ann and Peter were in the kitchen. Carmel's skin was very pale, but it had a warm undertone of health; he thought she was a remarkably seductive woman. There was insolence about the arch of her dark brows, passion in her scarlet lips, a contemptuous abandon in the curve of her body on the couch. She had the violet-shaded hollows under her cheekbones Crane admired so much in women.
"Do all the corpses in Marchton smell of gardenias?" he asked.
Her eyes widened for an instant. "What do you mean?" Then they looked directly into his. "Oh, you're remembering this afternoon."
"Yes."
"Talmadge has a malicious tongue."
"But your husband, someone told me he smelled of gardenias," he lied.
Anger brought a faint glow to her eyes. "Why shouldn't he? After all, he was my husband." She leaned toward him so that the gardenia odor was strong in his nostrils. "Who told you?"
"Someone."
"You won't tell?"
"I don't think I better."
"I can guess." She looked at him and he imagined he saw fear and anger in her eyes. "I can guess."
"You have some enemies." He would have liked to know who she was thinking of, but he didn't dare press the matter further. He wanted her to believe he actually knew something.
She was looking at him again. "Why are you so interested?"
"I don't know," he said. "I am, though." She spoke slowly. "You're thinking there's something back of Richard's and John's deaths."
"Perhaps."
"Well, you're right. There is."
He stared at her in silence, hiding his excitement.
"I might as well tell you before you stir up trouble." Her voice was flat. "John March killed himself."
"But why..." he began, and stopped suddenly as Peter and Ann came from the kitchen. He began again, "But why don't they hold the dances at the Town Club?"
"The ballroom isn't as large," Carmel said.
Peter's voice sounded young. "I'm going to scram, give you a chance to get some sleep. Crane's got to be at the office on the dot or Dad'll think he's a loafer."
"What office?" Crane demanded.
Ann said, "You may not remember, darling, but you're employed by March & Company to write about refrigerators."
Crane groaned. "For a happy moment that fact had completely slipped my mind."
Peter asked, "Coming, Carmel?"
"You take your car and I'll walk home. I want to
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