1She looked at the handkerchief, looked at me, picked up a pencil and pushed the little piece of linen around with the eraser end.

2"What's on it?" she asked. "Flyspray?"

3"Some kind of sandalwood, I thought."

4"A cheap synthetic. Repulsive is a mild word for it. And why did you want me to look at this handkerchief, Mr. Marlowe?" She leaned back again and stared at me with level cool eyes.

5"I found it in Chris Lavery's house, under the pillow on his bed. It has initials on it."

6She unfolded the handkerchief without touching it by using the rubber tip of the pencil. Her face got a little grim and taut.

7"It has two letters embroidered on it," she said in a cold angry voice. "They happen to be the same letters as my initials. Is that what you mean?"

8"Right," I said. "He probably knows half a dozen women with the same initials."

9"So you're going to be nasty after all," she said quietly.

10"Is it your handkerchief—or isn't it?"

11She hesitated. She reached out to the desk and very quietly got herself another cigarette and lit it with a match. She shook the match slowly, watching the small flame creep along the wood.

12"Yes, it's mine," she said. "I must have dropped it there. It's a long time ago. And I assure you I didn't put it under a pillow on his bed. Is that what you wanted to know?"

13I didn't say anything, and she added: "He must have lent it to some woman who—who would like this kind of perfume."

14"I get a mental picture of the woman," I said. "And she doesn't quite go with Lavery."

15Her upper lip curled a little. It was a long upper lip. I like long upper lips.

16"I think," she said, "you ought to do a little work on your mental picture of Chris Lavery. Any touch of refinement you may have noticed is purely coincidental."

17"That's not a nice thing to say about a dead man," I said.

18For a moment she just sat there and looked at me as if I hadn't said anything and she was waiting for me to say something. Then a slow shudder started at her throat and passed over her whole body. Her hands clenched and the cigarette bent into a crook. She looked down at it and threw it into the ashtray with a quick jerk of her arm.

19"He was shot in his shower," I said. "And it looks as if it was done by some woman who spent the night there. He had just been shaving. The woman left a gun on the stairs and this handkerchief on the bed."

20She moved very slightly in her chair. Her eyes were perfectly empty now. Her face was as cold as a carving.

21"And did you expect me to be able to give you information about that?" she asked me bitterly.

22"Look, Miss Fromsett, I'd like to be smooth and distant and subtle about all this too. I'd like to play this sort of game just once the way somebody like you would like it to be played. But nobody will let me—not the clients, nor the cops, nor the people I play against. However hard I try to be nice I always end up with my nose in the dirt and my thumb feeling for somebody's eye."

23She nodded as if she had only just barely heard me. "When was he shot?" she asked, and then shuddered slightly again.

24"This morning, I suppose. Not long after he got up. I said he had just shaved and was going to take a shower."

25"That," she said, "would probably have been quite late. I've been here since eight-thirty."

26"I didn't think you shot him."

27"Awfully kind of you," she said. "But it is my handkerchief, isn't it? Although not my perfume. But I don't suppose policemen are very sensitive to quality in perfume—or in anything else."

28"No—and that goes for private detectives too," I said. "Are you enjoying this a lot?"

29"God," she said, and put the back of her hand hard against her mouth.

30"He was shot at five or six times," I said. "And missed all but twice. He was cornered in the shower stall. It was a pretty grim scene, I should think. There was a lot of hate on one side of it. Or a pretty cold-blooded mind."

31"He was quite easy to hate," she said emptily. "And poisonously easy to love. Women—even decent women—make such ghastly mistakes about men."

32"All you're telling me is that you once thought you loved him, but not any more, and that you didn't shoot him."

33"Yes." Her voice was light and dry now, like the perfume she didn't like to wear at the office. "I'm sure you'll respect the confidence." She laughed shortly and bitterly. "Dead," she said. "The poor, egotistical, cheap, nasty, handsome, treacherous guy. Dead and cold and done with. No, Mr. Marlowe, I didn't shoot him."

34I waited, letting her work it out of her. After a moment she said quietly: "Does Mr. Kingsley know?"

35I nodded.

36"And the police, of course."

37"Not yet. At least not from me. I found him. The house door wasn't quite shut. I went in. I found him."

38She picked the pencil up and poked at the handkerchief again. "Does Mr. Kingsley know about this scented rag?"

39"Nobody knows about that, except you and I, and whoever put it there."

40"Nice of you," she said dryly. "And nice of you to think what you thought."

41"You have a certain quality of aloofness and dignity that I like," I said. "But don't run it into the ground. What would you expect me to think? Do I pull the hankie out from under the pillow and sniff it and hold it out and say, 'Well, well, Miss Adrienne Fromsett's initials and all. Miss Fromsett must have known Lavery, perhaps very intimately. Let's say, just for the book, as intimately as my nasty little mind can conceive. And that would be pretty damn intimately. But this is cheap synthetic sandalwood and Miss Fromsett wouldn't use cheap scent. And this was under Lavery's pillow and Miss Fromsett just never keeps her hankies under a man's pillow. Therefore this has absolutely nothing to do with Miss Fromsett. It's just an optical delusion.'"

42"Oh shut up," she said.

43I grinned.

44"What kind of girl do you think I am?" she snapped.

45"I came in too late to tell you."

46She flushed, but delicately and all over her face this time. Then, "Have you any idea who did it?"

47"Ideas, but that's all they are. I'm afraid the police are going to find it simple. Some of Mrs. Kingsley's clothes are hanging in Lavery's closet. And when they know the whole story—including what happened at Little Fawn Lake yesterday—I'm afraid they'll just reach for the handcuffs. They have to find her first. But that won't be so hard for them."

48"Crystal Kingsley," she said emptily. "So he couldn't be spared even that."

49I said: "It doesn't have to be. It could be an entirely different motivation, something we know nothing about. It could have been somebody like Dr. Almore."

50She looked up quickly, then shook her head. "It could be," I insisted. "We don't know anything against it. He was pretty nervous yesterday, for a man who has nothing to be afraid of. But, of course, it isn't only the guilty who are afraid."

51I stood up and tapped on the edge of the desk looking down at her. She had a lovely neck. She pointed to the handkerchief.

52"What about that?" she asked dully.

53"If it was mine, I'd wash that cheap scent out of it."

54"It has to mean something, doesn't it? It might mean a lot."

55I laughed. "I don't think it means anything at all. Women are always leaving their handkerchiefs around. A fellow like Lavery would collect them and keep them in a drawer with a sandalwood sachet. Somebody would find the stock and take one out to use. Or he would lend them, enjoying the reactions to the other girls' initials. I'd say he was that kind of a heel. Goodby, Miss Fromsett, and thanks for talking to me."

56I started to go, then I stopped and asked her: "Did you hear the name of the reporter down there who gave Brownwell all his information?"

57She shook her head.

58"Or the name of Mrs. Almore's parents?"

59"Not that either. But I could probably find that out for you. I'd be glad to try."

60"How?"

61"Those things are usually printed in death notices, aren't they? There is pretty sure to have been a death notice in the Los Angeles papers."

62"That would be very nice of you," I said. I ran a finger along the edge of the desk and looked at her sideways. Pale ivory skin, dark and lovely eyes, hair as light as hair can be and as dark as night can be.

63I walked back down the room and out. The little blonde at the PBX looked at me expectantly, her small red lips parted, waiting for more fun.

64I didn't have any more. I went on out.