“I’m through.”
Dundy addressed Tom curtly: “Get rid of it.” He addressed the gray-faced man: “I want to see both elevator boys when I’m finished with the girl.”
He went to the closed door Tom had pointed out to Spade and knocked on it.
A slightly harsh female voice within asked, “What is it?”
“Lieutenant Dundy. I want to talk to Miss Bliss.”
There was a pause; then the voice said, “Come in.”
Dundy opened the door and Spade followed him into a black, gray, and silver room, where a big-boned and ugly middle-aged woman in black dress and white apron sat beside a bed on which a girl lay.
The girl lay, elbow on pillow, cheek on hand, facing the big-boned, ugly woman. She was apparently about eighteen years old. She wore a gray suit. Her hair was blonde and short, her face firm-featured and remarkably symmetrical. She did not look at the two men coming into the room.
Dundy spoke to the big-boned woman, while Spade was lighting his cigarette: “We want to ask you a couple of questions, too, Mrs. Hooper. You’re Bliss’s housekeeper, aren’t you?”
The woman said, “I am.” Her slightly harsh voice, the level gaze of her deep-set gray eyes, the stillness and size of her hands lying in her lap, all contributed to the impression she gave of resting strength.
“What do you know about this?”
“I don’t know anything about it. I was let off this morning to go over to Oakland to my nephew’s funeral, and when I got back you and the other gentlemen were here and — and this had happened.”
Dundy nodded, asked, “What do you think about it?”
“I don’t know what to think,” she replied simply.
“Didn’t you know he expected it to happen?”
Now the girl suddenly stopped watching Mrs. Hooper. She sat up in bed, turning wide, excited eyes on Dundy, and asked, “What do you mean?”
“I mean what I said. He’d been threatened. He called up Mr. Spade” — he indicated Spade with a nod — “and told him so just a few minutes before he was killed.” “But who—?” she began.
“That’s what we’re asking you,” Dundy said. “Who had that much against him?”
She stared at him in astonishment. “Nobody would — ”
This time Spade interrupted her, speaking with a soft
ness that made his words seem less brutal than they were.
“Somebody did.” When she turned her stare on him he
asked, “You don’t know of any threats?”
She shook her head from side to side with emphasis.
He looked at Mrs. Hooper. “You?”
“No, sir,” she said.
He returned his attention to the girl. “Do you know Daniel Talbot?”
“Why, yes,” she said. “He was here for dinner last night.”
“Who is he?” ‘
“I don’t know, except that he lives in San Diego, and he
and Father had some sort of business together. I’d never
met him before.”
“What sort of terms were they on?” She frowned a little, said slowly, “Friendly.” Dundy spoke: “What business was your father in?” “He was a financier.” “You mean a promoter?” “Yes, I suppose you could call it that.” “Where is Talbot staying, or has he gone back to San Diego?”
“I don’t know.”
“What does he look like?”
She frowned again, thoughtfully. “He’s kind of large, with a red face and white hair and a white mustache.”
“Old?”
“I guess he must be sixty; fifty-five at least.”
Dundy looked at Spade, who put the stub of his cigarette in a tray on the dressing table and took up the questioning. “How long since you’ve seen your uncle?”
Her face flushed. “You mean Uncle Ted?”
He nodded.
“Not since,” she began, and bit her lip. Then she said, “Of course, you know. Not since he first got out of prison.”
“He came here?”
“Yes.”
“To see your father?”
“Of course.”
“What sort of terms were they on?”
She opened her eyes wide. “Neither of them is very demonstrative,” she said, “but they are brothers, and Father was giving him money to set him up in business again.”
“Then they were on good terms?”
“Yes,” she replied in the tone of one answering an unnecessary question.