“I like her.”
“Tell me the truth, Nick: do you think Clyde’s really crazy? I mean crazy enough that something ought to be done about it.”
“How do I know?”
“I’m worried about the children,” she said. “I’ve no claim on him any more–the settlement he made when I divorced him took care of all that–but the children have. We’re absolutely penniless now and I’m worried about them. If he is crazy he’s just as likely as not to throw away everything and leave them without a cent. What do you think I ought to do?”
“Thinking about putting him in the booby-hatch?”
“No–a,” she said slowly, “but I would like to talk to him.” She put a hand on my arm. “You could find him.”
I shook my head.
“Won’t you help me, Nick? We used to be friends.” Her big blue eyes were soft and appealing.
Dorothy, at the table, was watching us suspiciously.
“For Christ’s sake, Mimi,” I said, “there’s a thousand detectives in New York. Hire one of them. I’m not working at it any more.”
“I know, but– Was Dorry very drunk last night?”
“Maybe I was. She seemed all right to me.”
“Don’t you think she’s gotten to be a pretty little thing?”
“I always thought she was.”
She thought that over for a moment, then said: “She’s only a child, Nick.”
“What’s that got to do with what?” I asked.
She smiled. “How about getting some clothes on, Dorry?”
Dorothy sulkily repeated that she didn’t see why she had to waste an afternoon at Aunt Alice’s.
Jorgensen turned to address his wife: “Mrs. Charles has the great kindness to suggest that we do not–”
“Yes,” Nora said, “why don’t you stay awhile? There’ll be some people coming in. It won’t be very exciting, but–” She waved her glass a little to finish the sentence.
“I’d love to,” Mimi replied slowly, “but I’m afraid Alice–”
“Make our apologies to her by telephone,” Jorgensen suggested.
“I’ll do it,” Dorothy said.
Mimi nodded. “Be nice to her.”
Dorothy went into the bedroom. Everybody seemed much brighter. Nora caught my eye and winked merrily and I had to take it and like it because Mimi was looking at me then.
Mimi asked me: “You really didn’t want us to stay, did you?”
“Of course.”
“Chances are you’re lying. Weren’t you sort of fond of poor Julia?”
“‘Poor Julia’ sounds swell from you. I liked her all right.”
Mimi put her hand on my arm again. “She broke up my life with Clyde. Naturally I hated her–then–but that’s a long time ago. I had nofeeling against her when I went to see her Friday. And, Nick, I saw her die. She didn’t deserve to die. It was horrible. No matter what I’d felt, there’d be nothing left but pity now. I meant ‘poor Julia’ when I said it.”
“I don’t know what you’re up to,” I said. “I don’t know what any of you are up to.”
“Any of us,” she repeated. “Has Dorry been–”
Dorothy came in from the bedroom. “I squared it.” She kissed her mother on the mouth and sat down beside her.
Mimi, looking in her compact-mirror to see her mouth had not been smeared, asked: “She wasn’t peevish about it?”
“No, I squared it, What do you have to do to get a drink?”
I said: “You have to walk over to that table where the ice and bot.tIes are and pour it.”
Mimi said: “You drink too much.”
“I don’t drink as much as Nick.” She went over to the table.
Mimi shook her head. “These children! I mean you were pretty fond of Julia Wolf, weren’t you?”
Dorothy called: “You want one, Nick?”
“Thanks,” I said; then to Mimi, “I liked her well enough.”
“You’re the damnedest evasive man,” she complained. “Did you like her as much as you used to like me, for instance?”
“You mean those couple of afternoons we killed?”
Her laugh was genuine. “That’s certainly an answer.” She turned to Dorothy, carrying glasses towards us. “You’ll have to get a robe that shade of blue, darling. It’s very becoming to you.”
I took one of the glasses from Dorothy and said I thought I had better get dressed.