She ought to take up tatting! Damn!
She bought a bottle of Pepsi-Cola at the cigar stand and drank it slowly, standing up. She was just wondering whether or not she could stand another, in the interest of protective coloration, when Randall appeared.
It took the flood of relief that swept over her to make her realize how much she had been afraid. Nevertheless, she did not break character. She turned her head away, knowing that her husband would see her and recognize the back of her neck quite as well as her face.
He did not come up and speak to her, therefore she took position on him again. Hoag she could not see anywhere; had she missed him herself, or what?
Randall walked down to the corner, glanced speculatively at a stand of taxis, then swung aboard a bus which had just drawn up to its stop. She followed him, allowing several others to mount it before her. The bus pulled away. Hoag had certainly not gotten aboard; she concluded that it was safe to break the routine.
He looked up as she sat down beside him. “Cyn! I thought we had lost you.”
“You darn near did,” she admitted. “Tell me — what’s cookin’?”
“Wait till we get to the office.”
She did not wish to wait, but she subsided. The bus they had entered took them directly to their office, a mere half-dozen blocks away. When they were there he unlocked the door of the tiny suite and went at once to the telephone. Their listed office phone was connected through the PBX of a secretarial service.
“Any calls?” he asked, then listened for a moment. “O.K. Send up the slips. No hurry.”
He put the phone down and turned to his wife. “Well, babe, that’s just about the easiest five hundred we ever promoted.”
“You found out what he does with himself?”
“Of course.”
“What does he do?”
“Guess.”
She eyed him. “How would you like a paste in the snoot?”
“Keep your pants on. You wouldn’t guess it, though it’s simple enough. He works for a commercial jeweler — polishes gems. You know that stuff he found under his fingernails, that got him so upset?”
“Yes?”
“Nothing to it. Jeweler’s rouge. With the aid of a diseased imagination he jumps to the conclusion it’s dried blood. So we make half a grand.”
“Mm-m-m. And that seems to be that. This place he works is somewhere in the Acme Building, I suppose.”
“Room 1310. Or rather Suite 1310. Why didn’t you tag along?”
She hesitated a little in replying. She did not want to admit how clumsy she had been, but the habit of complete honesty with each other was strong upon her. “I let myself get misled when Hoag spoke to you outside the Acme Building. I missed you at the elevator.”
“I see. Well, I — Say! What did you say? Did you say Hoag spoke to me?”
“Yes, certainly.”
“But he didn’t speak to me. He never laid eyes on me. What are you talking about?”
“What am I talking about? What are you talking about! Just before the two of you went into the Acme Building, Hoag stopped, turned around and spoke to you. The two of you stood there chinning, which threw me off stride. Then you went into the lobby together, practically arm in arm.
He sat there, saying nothing, looking at her for a long moment. At last she said, “Don’t sit there staring like a goon! That’s what happened.”
He said, “Cyn, listen to my story. I got off the bus after he did and followed him into the lobby. I used the old heel-and-toe getting into the elevator and swung behind him when he faced the front of the car. When he got out, I hung back, then fiddled around, half in and half out, asking the operator simpleton questions, and giving him long enough to get clear. When I turned the corner he was just disappearing into 1310. He never spoke to me. He never saw my face. I’m sure of that.”
She was looking white, but all she said was, “Go on.”
“When you go in this place there is a long glass partition on your right, with benches built up against it. You can look through the glass and see the jewelers, or jewelsmiths, or whatever you call ’em at work. Clever — good salesmanship. Hoag ducked right on in and by the time I passed down the aisle he was already on the other side, his coat off and a smock on, and one of those magnifying dinguses screwed into his eye. I went on past him to the desk — he never looked up — and asked for the manager. Presently a little birdlike guy shows up and I ask him if they have a man named Jonathan Hoag in their employ. He says yes and asks if I want to speak to him. I told him no, that I was an investigator for an insurance company. He wants to know if there is anything wrong and I told him that it was simply a routine investigation of what he had said on his application for a life policy, and how long had he worked there? Five years, he told me. He said that Hoag was one of the most reliable and skillful employees. I said fine, and asked if he thought Mr. Hoag could afford to carry as much as ten thousand. He says certainly and that they were always glad to see their employees invest in life insurance. Which was what I figured when I gave him the stall.