"THAT was," he finally groaned out, "completely unnecessary."
He was in pain. Good.
Downstairs, the distant band struck up a dance number, and Adelle Taylor sang about love and loss to lure couples onto the floor. Perhaps Anthony dear and his friends would join them. More likely not. I figured they were here to back up Dugan in some way. The last thing I wanted was anybody walking in with a gun and interrupting. I snicked the lock shut on the door and rounded on Dugan.
I dragged him up by his fine blue suit and swung him around, back to the wall, until we were nose-to-nose. He didn't fight, even when I made a quick search for weapons and whatever else he carried besides lockpicks. He had a wallet, keys, a gold pocket watch, and a plain white envelope fat with papers. The wallet held eight dollars in cash and a driving license. I tossed everything on the desk and turned my full concentration on Dugan, whispering instructions for him to listen, bolstering it with the force of my long-suppressed rage. The latter I was always careful about; I'd once driven a man insane with it. Tonight I didn't bother holding back...
And it still didn't work. Time stretched, my headache worsened, and Dugan remained fully alert and aware, even amused, meeting my gaze look for look.
"Take your hands off me," he said evenly.
I did. By throwing him over the desk and across the room. He landed on the couch, hitting hard, the breath knocked right out of him. I stayed behind the desk.
In my mood, I could forget myself and send him on a one-way trip to the cemetery. Damn, my head hurt.
"You shouldn't have done that," he said a moment later, once he'd struggled upright. He was rumpled but strangely serene of face.
"You break into my office for some burglary and think I should... what? Why don't you tell me?"
"I was just filling the time until your arrival. Simply an exercise to learn more about you. Besides, you're late. I said we would meet here at seven. You didn't think I'd come in by way of that lobby, did you? You might have made a scene.
The stage entrance is much more discreet." He straightened his clothes, composing himself next to the table with the cut flowers. "You should show much better behavior than this."
"Guess again. This is no Sunday tea party. You're in my place. Expect mayhem."
"Which is going to shortly change." He shot me a smug look and another damn smile. "We really do need to talk."
True, but I wasn't going to make it easy for him. I opened the envelope, pulling out papers. A quick glance showed them to be carbon copies of letters.
"Again," I said slowly, spotting my name, home, and club address on each page along with their phone numbers. My guts twisted like a snake. "Convince me not to kill you."
"It would be a great inconvenience. To yourself, I should clarify." With casual dignity he stood and retrieved his other property, then returned to the couch. "I did not take the risk of coming here without some insurance, as you're about to discover when you read those through. If I disappear or am further harmed, you will find yourself to be the focal point of a meticulous and far -reaching investigation conducted by various law enforcement agencies and other interested parties."
The letters were addressed to the Chicago DA's office, the Internal Revenue, J.
Edgar Hoover, three major newspaper editors-the works, up to and including Walter Winchell. Anyone who could possibly turn my life into a living hell was formally notified of my existence and that I should be in jail. That was the short version. There were more details, and specific questions were posed, like how a guy working part-time for a detective was suddenly able to afford a fancy nightclub without bothering any banks for a loan.
I'd taken great pains to cover and clean up certain earnings for the tax man, but a really close look at my business affairs could create a lot of unfixable trouble.
My work with Escott had put me in the middle of more than one murder case best left unsolved; my friendship with Gordy and ties to his mob would come out of the shadows. If even one of those resulted in a court case, I was sunk. Daylight appearances were impossible.
"I haven't mailed the originals," said Dugan. "Not yet. But be assured that should you choose to indulge in your baser instincts, there will be serious and permanent repercussions."
The letters were concerned with ordinary matters; no mention was made of my supernatural difference from the rest of humanity. If worse came to worst I could find a way out, even if it meant running off to parts unknown, but I'd worked too hard to casually walk away from what I'd built here.
"Those are," Dugan continued, "what I could put together in just one day. I have additional resources. I know many important people. You would not be the only one affected. Should you try to leave town, your family and friends will also find themselves similarly inconvenienced, all of it perfectly legal. My lawyer tracked down many of their names for me. I have dozens of similar letters ready to be sent out- anonymously-for each of them. I was creative with my accusations, but it's of no import, the effect of a lie can be just as damaging. Your detective friend could lose his license, that blond singer with whom you keep company will never get decent work again. That large gangster will have no end of grief with federal investigators and could shortly find himself heading for prison-
"
"Okay, I get the picture. What do you want?"
He sat back on the couch. Smiling. Really enjoying himself. "Just answer a few simple questions. And perform a small favor."
The kind of questions and favor he'd have in mind could never be simple or small. I dropped the letters; they slewed across the desk. One sheet slipped clear and drifted, zigzag, to the floor. "Such as?"
"This may take a while. Please, be seated."
"Just ask."
Dugan gave a little shrug. "Very well. Our initial meeting was a bit one-sided.
We had no real opportunity to talk. I will confess I was rather disturbed to find myself tied up in the car, then carried into the Gladwell house like so much luggage. Once that passed, I soon worked out that you were the one who spoiled my experiment-"
"That's what you call kidnapping, extortion, and attempted murder?"
"Oh, no, it was an experiment."
Jesus, he was absolutely serious.
"You may think I was after the money, but not so. That was just a little research in human behavior, which meant I had to work with people instead of mice," he explained, as though that made it all right. "The ransom was only a means to involve the other men in the operation, a way to success. I planned every detail: the sort of men I would need, the choice of victim. It was something entertaining and challenging to fill the time."
"Dugan, just what kind of sick bastard are you?"
His eyes twinkled. "I rather expected such a reaction. It's nothing new to me.
I'm insult-proof. Try to calm yourself."
I calmed myself with the idea that he must have been lying. Nobody could be that crazy.
"Thank you. Now, I was just closing that experiment down when you halted the works. At first I wondered how you managed to follow my men. They're not up to my level of intellect but do possess a sharp instinct for survival; that's why I chose them. I couldn't accept that you'd suborned them by threat or bribery in so brief a time. It was quite a puzzle. Since you were unaware that I'd woken up from your most brutal assault, I continued the pretense of being unconscious. Once my initial confusion passed, I was able to study your interaction with each of my men very closely in the Gladwell parlor. Without the use of any drug you managed to sway them all to your will. It was fascinating and alarming, particularly when my turn came. I braced myself for some sort of mental shock, but nothing happened."
"Nothing at all?" It'd be a shame for my head to hurt so much for nothing, not to mention annoying the hell out of me.
"Do give yourself some credit for the effort. I will confess I was truly fearful of succumbing to whatever spell you put upon them, then delighted to find an immunity to it. Obviously their weaker minds made them easy prey. To assure my continued good health I wisely agreed with all you told me. It was a very macabre situation, especially when I came to realize just what sort of man was before me."
I kept quiet, wondering if he'd say "vampire" aloud.
He only showed his damned smile again. "You are a most unusual specimen, very rare. I've read a lot and know a great deal about all sorts of things and at first couldn't bring myself to believe the evidence. For instance, I'm not unfamiliar with hypnosis. I've seen it done to others. I have never once witnessed an adept forcing it upon an unwilling subject as you did to my men. You had a very special power at your command."
"They were off guard. You weren't by the time I got to you."
"Yes, but when you came in here, you tried again. You tried very hard and failed. That was quite evident. What I gleaned from that first encounter was that you fully expected it to work on me. Perhaps a talented stage magician or mentalist might be able to force his will upon a weaker, more receptive mind, but hardly-"
"Dugan, cut the crap and get to the point."
That hit a nerve. His mouth snapped shut, his eyes going hard for a second, but he didn't give in to temper. "Well, well, someone's mother forgot to teach him good manners. Please, let's be civil with each other."
"You're a murdering son of a bitch who kidnapped a helpless girl and came that close to killing her, so don't talk to me about how to behave."
He waved one hand dismissively. "Very well, though your sentiment for that creature is misplaced. I chose her quite carefully, you know. I would never remove a contributing member of society, but she was nothing. Hardly a contributor; on the contrary, she was and continues to be a waste of resources."
"Her mother doesn't think so."
"Well, mothers are dominated by an instinct to protect their young, whether or not that offspring is worth the trouble. Things are different in the wild, where the weak are sensibly culled from the herd by nature's many checks and balances. Oh, please, do not counter with the judgment that we are not animals. We really are.
The vast majority of humans are so complaisant in their superiority over animals that they don't consider the scientific fact that they are just another species among thousands. When it comes down to the basics, we are little removed from the brutes who grubbed around in caves not so very long ago. It's a great astonishment to the populace when a truly superior intellect comes along to show them their place in the scheme of things. That's why genius is so frequently misunderstood, mistrusted, mercilessly exploited by lesser men, or stamped out."
"You like to hear yourself talk, don't you?"
"Ah, by that I can infer that you wish me to move on to other points."
"Any point at all. Like what do you want? You said you had questions."
He made a little frown. "You're a very rude man. Were you always this way, or is it a result of your condition?"
"It's a result of you being in the same room."
"I'll just have to suffer through, then. I do assure you that your show of contempt is wasted on me."
"I'm heartbroken. Just get on with it or get out, I got a saloon to run."
The frown deepened. "I was hoping for better from you. You seemed a likable sort from your interaction with that detective fellow. By the way, where is he?"
I looked at my watch. "You got one minute, then I'm kicking you down the stairs."
A definite flare of anger in his pale eyes. "I remind you that I am the one in control here. I will send those letters out if you don't-"
"Yeah, yeah, and my whole life is ruined. Listen, Gurley Hilbert, I've had to deal with dumber mugs than you, but at least they got down to business. I never heard such a bum for listening to himself gabble."
His face went red. Apparently I wasn't the first who ever made fun of his name in that way or suggested he talked too much. "You will regret that."
"You got half a minute, then it's headfirst into the lobby."
He snorted. "Very well. I know exactly what you are. I only suspected at first and made a bold effort to confirm it. You must admit it's a compliment to you that I borrowed your method of pursuit, though the car ride was not at all easy or comfortable-"
"A quarter minute."
"-nor especially agreeable. You have a terrible singing voice."
That sidetracked me. "What?"
"During the trip you sang along with the radio, if one can call such an off-key yodel singing."
Now I really wanted to punch him inside out. I was well aware I couldn't hold a tune in a bucket, but the performance hadn't been for him.
"Anyway," he said. "I'd intended to make my presence known to you at some convenient point and ascertain one way or another your true nature. Imagine my elation when you stopped at the Stockyards and I was able to witness at firsthand the proof of my supposition. The follow-up was, of course, when I put you to the test with my firearm. I'd not intended to do it there, but you forced the issue with your attack. There was a risk you might be killed, but it all worked out."
"You could have been killed yourself."
"I didn't think that at all likely. I got confirmation; the stories I've heard about the abilities of your kind are true."
"Heard from where?
"A source meaningless to you. The public library."
As with Gordy and Bristow, the more Dugan talked, the more I learned about him. What little I picked up made my flesh creep. I'd encountered a similar type before during my days as a reporter. That other man had been a killer heading for death row and not a moment too soon. He'd been friendly, even charming, but gave off a sick emotional stink that made you want to run far and fast. I got the same feeling from Dugan. Whatever it was inside a person that my hypnosis could grab and exploit was missing in him. It felt like I was looking into a face where the eyes had been scooped out, while the body still lived on, unaware of the horror.
"You tell your friends here what you know about me?" I asked.
"You noticed them."
"Hard not to."
"They're here as part of my insurance; they've only seen your sort at the cinema. I can count on their loyalty."
"What lies did you tell them last night to make phone calls to you?"
He was unsurprised I knew. "Oh, that was nothing, and no huge lie was involved. I only said I wanted a quiet word with you in person so as to arrange a meeting with Escott. They accepted it."
"What about your 'experiment'? I doubt you gave them the real dirt."
"Of course not. They are convinced of my innocence. Nothing you say to them to the contrary will be believed. They are not aware of what you are, but I'll also warn you against harming or attempting to hypnotically influence them." He gestured at the carbon copies. "Any action on your part that I do not approve will result in all of these being dropped in the post. Please be assured, they are real; this is no bluff."
He had a kind of gun to my head, but there was only one bullet in it, and I was really good at ducking. He didn't need to hear that, though. "I can return the favor, you know. Winchell wouldn't find me nearly as interesting as you."
"That would be unwise, Mr. Fleming. I already have sufficient notoriety but am well able to withstand its blast. You cannot. I am certain because of what you are you would shun official notice of your existence. You can't hypnotize every bureaucrat, every reporter between Chicago and Washington."
"Sure about that?"
"Yes."
No need to disabuse him of that idea.
"Also, you have too much to lose." He lifted a hand to indicate my nightclub.
"I don't. I have the kind of connections and money to allow me to leave this country and enjoy all that the world has to offer. If it looks like circumstances will shift against me, I'll simply move on. With all that you have invested in this place you don't have my sort of freedom. Should you try to leave, it will be in the knowledge that those you leave behind will suffer for it."
"What do you want?"
"Nothing major. You have only to talk to my men just as you did before. This time you will convince them to adjust their confessions slightly. They are to provide the police a story that will guarantee my exoneration from their crimes. I have one prepared that's a bit more detailed than what I've told the papers. It will serve to free me."
"You think I can do that with them wide awake and on guard?"
"Yes. I saw how you operated that night. You demonstrated such complete confidence that your hypnosis was obviously routine. You have evidently used it so many times before that failure was not even a remote consideration."
He had that pegged to the wall, but if I gave in too quick, he wouldn't believe me. "Suppose I fix them for you. Then what?"
"Another experiment, of course."
"What kind?"
"I'll let you know."
"Not good enough. You tell me now."
"Or what?"
"I don't cooperate. I'll have a few nights feeling bad about what you did to my friends, and I'll be mad about losing the club, but it'll be from miles away where you'll never find me."
Dugan shook his head. "I think not. You risked life and limb and your great secret to find that girl. What I overheard between you and Escott informed me that you are good friends, and you exhibit the unmistakable signs of possessing a sense of honor. Your anger at me for what you perceived to be a crime is one of them. Those are fatal flaws."
"I can get over them, but you won't get over being dead."
"Then my many letters will be mailed, and you will have six unimpeachable witnesses testifying that I came to this club at Escott's invitation. I left a note in a safe place outlining the whole business. My story is that Escott wanted to have a private meeting with me here to discuss matters to do with the Gladwell kidnapping. In the company of my friends I felt safe enough, you see. If you do anything rash, I guarantee he will be implicated in my death or disappearance."
"I'll talk to your friends before that happens."
"Perhaps, if you found them all in time. They'll have left by now. If I'm not away from here by nine o'clock at the latest, they are to contact the police, then scatter-after dropping my letters in the mail."
"Just a chance I'll have to take."
"But the letters will create a devil of a mess. It's unavoidable, no matter what efforts you make to the contrary. But think carefully on this: three of the kidnappers will still go to jail, and the girl's alive and well. What I'm asking isn't much. You need to be pragmatic. Balance a few hours of your time against months if not years of dealing with a host of very unsympathetic bureaucrats, police, and so forth. You can't bend all of them to your will. Truly you cannot."
I could if I had to, but the bastard had the high hand for the moment. I let him see me thinking it over. "What's this other experiment you got in mind?"
The smile tugged at him, as though he knew I was over the last hill. "When the time comes I'll tell you. I promise that it will not be morally abhorrent. I prefer to maintain businesslike conduct in all things whenever possible. You recall that I did return your car as a sign of my good faith; take that as an example of things to come. We've had a rather rough introduction to each other, but it need not have an adverse effect on our future dealings."
"I don't want any dealings with you. Here's how it works: you get this one favor to get you off the hook and out of my hair, and then it's good-bye. You go your way, I go mine."
His smile was patient. "Impossible. You are unique. I have to know more. How did you acquire this condition?"
"You tell me."
"Well, perhaps we can discuss it later. You have a very important errand to run tonight. I'll contact you tomorrow evening to ask after your progress with my men."
"Yeah, sure, now get the hell out."
"How delightful. However, I can't help thinking that you're giving in much too easily."
"I'm a fast thinker; it comes with the condition."
"Oh, really, come-come."
"What are you looking for, argument and hair-tearing at how unfair the world is? I'll do what you want. Now get out so I can call the fumigators."
"It's to be done tonight."
"Too soon. Those friends of yours are in jail. The cops don't let just anyone in for a visit, especially at night."
"Actually, they will. With your abilities, it should be very easy for you to get through to them."
"It'll take time. I don't even know which jail they're in."
"But I do." He pulled a folded paper from his wallet and held it up, then delicately straightened it with his long fingers until its intended shape was restored.
It looked like the note he'd sent last night, a bird with raised wings. "How do you like my little cranes?"
I made no reply.
"One of my hobbies. I know dozens of patterns. Something to fill the time."
He offered it to me. When I didn't come around to fetch, he gave a small shrug and set it on the table by the flower vase. "This has the necessary information and the new story the men are to provide to the police. You will persuade them to it."
"I have my limits."
"You will overcome them. You will also be watched. Don't mistake my pleasant manner for softness. I don't trust you."
"That makes two of us." I unlocked the door and held it wide. "Out, before I change my mind."
He stood and went to the desk, gathering his hat and the letter copies, not forgetting the one on the floor, then walked past. I sensed his tension, his bracing for another assault, but neither of us got stupid with the other. He paused. "One last instruction. Go to the front windows there."
"Why?"
"I want to make sure you don't invisibly follow me. You are to open the blinds and stand before the window for ten minutes. You will be watched."
He sure loved playing that tune.
"If you move from that spot before time, I will mail the letters."
That one as well.
I did as he said, making it clear that I didn't like being ordered around. I pushed the curtains wide and pulled up the blinds. Standing like this raised my hackles, but I could trust that the bulletproof glass would do its job in case Dugan or one of his friends thought to take a potshot.
He smiled one last time, put on his hat, and finally left, his steps unhurried on the stairs.
"Charles," I said, not too loudly. "Get your ass in here."
The next door down the hall opened, and Escott rushed in, alert.
"You hear what he wanted?" I asked.
"Everything. Miss Smythe and I have-"
"Great, we'll get detailed later, swap places with me, quick."
He caught my intention and we smoothly switched. We had nearly identical builds and frames; silhouetted against a window, we were twins.
"Face the street for ten minutes and don't show a profile," I warned him. Our heads were shaped a little differently, and that big beak of a nose of his would give the game away. I moved toward the door as Bobbi came in, looking excited.
"Jack, we got all of it, but I don't know if the band music might-"
"Later, sweetheart," I said, brushing her forehead with my lips as I zoomed past. "Keep away from the window!"
"You're welcome!" she called after, but she sounded amused.
Before I reached the stairs, I'd turned incorporeal, moving fast and silent, confident of the territory. At the landing I sensed what I hoped was Dugan walking away. I couldn't get close or he'd feel the chill of my presence. There was a chance he was aware of that giveaway. He headed toward the front. I heard the doorman say, "Good night, sir." The muttered response confirmed I had the right guy.
He paused on the sidewalk, perhaps looking both ways like any careful pedestrian, then trotted across the street, me close on his heels. A car door was opened and he slipped inside. I risked contact and slid in, too. From the feel of things, it was the backseat and otherwise empty. Taking no chances, I oozed up into the dead space of the rear window ledge and parked there.
"How did it go?" a man asked. I identified the voice. Anthony Brockhurst was playing chauffeur. He shifted gears, and we moved off. So much for keeping watch, though there might be other people around.
"Very well," Dugan replied. "I'm most pleased and very relieved. Mr. Escott, Mr. Fleming, and I have cleared a lot of misunderstandings away. They're going to cooperate with me."
"You managed, then?" This from a woman. Bored-sounding. Marie Kennard.
"Very well," Dugan repeated. "I convinced them of the error of their ways.
They will be on my side from now on."
"Just on the threat of a few letters?"
"They're only hired help for that Gladwell harridan, after all. They're also very adverse to disagreeable publicity, especially Escott. He's been involved in more than one case of a dubious nature. He'd rather not lose his license to practice his trade should an investigation into his business affairs be launched."
"Seems a bit of a low blow," said Anthony. I couldn't tell if he'd had anything to drink or not. That would affect how to proceed this evening.
"This is my very life at stake," Dugan admonished, sounding wounded. "Those hooligans who trapped me in their filthy scheme... well, you know all that. Mine is a desperate situation because of their lies. It requires desperate measures to extract me from it. Besides, after Escott and Fleming got over their anger at the letter threat, they came to see the truth of things. I had to practically tell them my life story, which is what took so long. It wasn't cheap, but we've got it all worked out now."
"Thank goodness for that. You'd better call the others so they don't worry or drop the things in the mail."
"Then find a telephone."
"What were they like?" Marie asked, meaning me and Escott.
"Rough sorts, almost as bad as those criminals. They wear better clothes, but at heart... well, you'd not want to meet either of them in a dark alley. Thank goodness you won't have to go back there again. I was worried you might come to harm."
"I saw Fleming at the club. He didn't seem rough."
"Ah, but 'the devil hath power to assume a pleasing shape.' Fleming is the worst of the two. He has a particularly violent temper, keeps it hidden. Gave me some bruises."
Violent temper? He'd only seen me being mildly cranky. Wait 'til he saw when I really got pissed.
"You're hurt?" she sounded concerned.
"Mostly my pride. I've had worse on the polo field, my dear. Escott calmed him down. He's the brains of their unholy partnership. Once I got him to see reason, it sorted itself out."
"How much did it cost?"
"It's not good news. He wants ten thousand. Cash."
"That's an outrage! You've the threat of the letters to hang over him!"
"One has to compromise on certain business dealings. He's putting himself at risk on my behalf. He's wants 'a fair payment,' to use his words. Yes, I can hold the threat over him, but he promised to be less acrimonious and considerably more cooperative about it with a nice fat bribe to sweeten things. He was the one to raise the topic, not I, but it's a good thing we three talked about it beforehand, or I'd have been caught off guard."
"It's too much," she stated.
For once Dugan kept his mouth shut. I was fascinated by all the smart dealings Escott had accomplished without being in the room. He'd pulled in a hell of a profit. I wished that I'd thought of asking Dugan for hush money.
"This is Gilbert's freedom," Anthony ventured. "We can't let him down, Marie."
She must have stewed a little; there was a pause before she spoke again. "Oh, very well, just stop looking at me like that. I'm not going to scrimp, but I thought the letters would be enough to control him."
"As did I," said Dugan. "We had a long exchange about it, but he insisted he was willing to face whatever trouble came and the devil take me unless he got something advantageous out of it. It's like bribing a maitre d' for a better table; bothersome, but we each get what we want. You're lucky I managed to bargain it down from twenty thousand."
"My God! He wanted that much?"
"Fleming did. I think he intended to pay off his club, but Escott was mote reasonable. He could see I wasn't going to go that far."
"Here's a drugstore," said Anthony, slowing. "They'll have a phone booth."
"This will take a few minutes; it's four calls."
"Have you enough nickels?"
"I think so... Yes, thank you."
I heard the door open and slam shut. Dugan could look after himself without me.
Anthony and Marie didn't talk much until she asked him for a cigarette and then a light.
"Ten thousand," she grumbled. "How is he ever going to pay me back?"
"You don't have to loan it, you know," said Anthony. "I could probably work out something with my family, but Father would be very difficult. He's none too pleased with this mess."
"He can never raise that kind of money on his old railroad stock. Even if he does, the lawyers will probably take it. I'll come to the rescue, but why, oh, why was Gilbert stupid enough to get entangled with those thieves? He might well have known it would turn out badly."
"We all make mistakes."
"This is a very costly one. I don't see how this detective can help him."
"Gilbert explained it all to me. Escott will forget important evidence, remember certain details differently. When he gives a formal statement, it can be in such a way as to support Gilbert's story. That's what they were working out up there, exactly what to say."
"What slimy, horrid people detectives are. Peering through keyholes for money. Was that man up in the window Escott?"
"I never met the fellow. It could have been Fleming for all I could see. As overdone as the club is, he obviously put a pretty penny into it; you'd think he'd have gotten better quality glass, not that murky warped stuff."
She agreed with him.
Overdone? What the hell is he talking about? Lady Crymsyn's perfect.
Damned snobs. I should materialize now and scare the crap out of them.
Dugan returned before I got too steamed, sparing his friends some well -
deserved terrorizing. I wondered if Cousin Anthony was in on the scam being pulled on Marie or if both were dupes in Dugan's game. Later I might find out. He seemed cold sober tonight.
"All taken care of," Dugan reported, apparently happy and relieved. "Let's go celebrate."
"Let's not," said Marie. "I'm ready to faint I'm so tired. Just take me home."
"Of course, darling. See to it, Anthony; the lady needs her rest."
Anthony did his chauffeur work. I couldn't tell how long it took to get to her place, though from a strong tug that went all through me, we crossed water, probably the Chicago River. It seemed to take forever to get over the bridge, but my presence didn't affect the car's progress.
Talk was at a minimum until Anthony finally slowed and stopped, cutting the motor. Dugan got out, apparently to accompany Marie to her door. If she was going to give him ten grand, he'd have to show her plenty of consideration. I hadn't figured out the relationships between the three of them yet, but it looked like she might be Dugan's girl rather than Anthony's. He was gone a while. When he returned, he got in the front seat. I moved down behind them to hear better but remained invisible.
"You've a long face," Anthony said, starting the car.
"She's upset about the money, but I let her know how grateful I am for her help. It's just very hard. I can't tell you how humiliating it is for a man to have to ask a woman for this sort of help."
"You've little other choice. I'd help if I could, but Father has everything tied up in trust and refuses to break it, even for family. I wager if I was in your place he'd still refuse."
"Well, you wouldn't have gotten into this stew at all. It's my own fault, I own up to that. How could I-oh, never mind."
Dugan sounded convincingly upset. I speculated just how much lying he'd done during our talk.
"It will be all right, Gil. You made a mistake, trusted the wrong sorts, got in over your head. Could have happened to anyone."
"No, only me. I don't have many friends, you know. I'm not the sort people take to, so when those men invited me to have a drink, well, I was ripe for the picking. I had no idea they were going to use my connections to get to that girl, that they were going to use me. My God, they'd have killed me, too, if that mystery Samaritan hadn't shown up. I'd like to thank him for saving my life."
"Did you ever see him?"
"No. Certainly he mistook me for being part of the gang, else he'd not have knocked me cold. Can't blame the man. Pity he's not come forward; he might have valuable testimony."
"Nothing good for you, though, if he thought you were in on things."
Dugan gave a heavy sigh. "I suppose so. I just thank God for you, Marie, and your friends believing me, or this would be utterly unbearable."
I was ready to hand him a violin so he could squeeze out even more sympathy.
"Are you going to marry her?" Anthony asked.
"I don't think she'd have me. Certainly I don't deserve her."
"Well, brace yourself, but I'm fairly sure she expects you to at least propose."
"Why should she want a penniless scholar facing a jail sentence? I've nothing to offer her but a drafty old house with two mortgages on it."
"She can help you out of that."
"It's asking too much."
"Ask her to marry you and find out if she thinks so."
Dugan seemed to mull it over. "All right, but only after this problem has been settled and sorted. Only then."
"Good man. You won't regret it. She's a wonderful girl. Well, here's the old homestead, drafts and all. You'll be all right? There's a man out front."
"Probably a reporter. They're terrible pests, always ready to believe the worst.
I'll go in the back way. Thank you, Anthony. You're a godsend, you know."
"Don't be silly. Go get some rest; you must be done in after all that."
"Indeed I am. I'll see you tomorrow sometime." He got out. The door thumped shut before I could get clear, forcing me to push through the window to escape. I hated how that felt.
Anthony drove away. Dugan walked quickly. The wind was strong, wherever we were, pressing against me and probably chilling him right through. He was trotting, but I kept up easily, a very silent companion.
Through a gate, some steps, the snick of a lock, a door creaking open. I went high and gusted through near the top of the jamb. Once inside, I rose higher still to hover by the ceiling.
He clicked on lights as he went through the place. It seemed to be pretty big and, so far as I could tell, was empty of company. After some moving about, he finally paused.
"What a day," he said to himself, then gusted out a pleasant laugh. "What a perfectly wonderful day!"
I chose that moment to materialize right in front of him. God, but all the hoop-jumping crap I'd gone through was worth it to see the look on his mug. Appalled astonishment didn't begin to cover it.
"Glad you had such a good time," I said, cheerful, too.
Then I decked him, dead square in the jaw.