JК
The Case of the Caretakers Cat :: Гарднер Эрл Стенли
Страница: 31 из 146"
"The day before the fire there was a hell of a fight out at the house. I can't find out exactly what it was, but I think this nurse can tell us. I've talked with the servants. They froze up. I hadn't got around to the nurse yet… Here's her apartment."
"What's her name—Durfey?"
"No—DeVoe—Edith DeVoe. According to the reports I get, she isn't a bad looker. Frank Oafley was pretty much interested in her when she was taking care of the old man, and he's been seeing her off and on since."
"Intentions honorable?" Mason asked.
"Don't ask me; I'm just a detective—not a censor of morals. Let's go."
Mason paid off the cab. They rang a bell, and, when a buzzer had released the door catch, entered the outer door and walked down a long corridor to a ground floor apartment. A redhaired woman with quick, restless eyes, swift, nervous motions, and a wellmodeled figure which was set off to advantage by her clothes, met them at the door of the apartment. Her face showed disappointment. "Oh," she said, "I was expecting… Who are you?"
Paul Drake bowed, and said, "I'm Paul Drake. This is Mr. Mason, Miss DeVoe."
"What is it you want?" she asked. Her speech was very rapid. The words seemed almost to run together.
"We wanted to talk with you," Mason said.
"About some employment," Paul Drake hastened to add. "You're a nurse, aren't you?"
"Yes."
"Well, we wanted to talk with you about some work."
"What sort of a position?"
"I think we could talk it over better if we stepped inside," Drake ventured.
She hesitated a moment, looked up and down the corridor, then stepped back from the door and said, "Very well, you may come in, but only for a few minutes."
The apartment was clean and well cared for as though she had just finished a careful housecleaning. Her hair was perfectly groomed. Her nails were well kept. She wore her clothes with the manner of one who is wearing her best.
Drake sat down, relaxing comfortably, as though he intended to stay for hours.
Mason sat on the arm of an overstuffed chair. He looked at the detective and frowned.
"Now this employment may not be exactly the kind of a job you had in mind," Drake said, "but there's no harm talking it over. Would you mind telling me what your rates are by the day?"
"Do you mean for two or three days, or…"
"No, just one day."
"Ten dollars," she said crisply.
Drake took a billfold from his pocket. He extracted ten dollars but didn't at once pass it over to the nurse.
"I have one day's employment," he said.
"The day before the fire there was a hell of a fight out at the house. I can't find out exactly what it was, but I think this nurse can tell us. I've talked with the servants. They froze up. I hadn't got around to the nurse yet… Here's her apartment."
"What's her name—Durfey?"
"No—DeVoe—Edith DeVoe. According to the reports I get, she isn't a bad looker. Frank Oafley was pretty much interested in her when she was taking care of the old man, and he's been seeing her off and on since."
"Intentions honorable?" Mason asked.
"Don't ask me; I'm just a detective—not a censor of morals. Let's go."
Mason paid off the cab. They rang a bell, and, when a buzzer had released the door catch, entered the outer door and walked down a long corridor to a ground floor apartment. A redhaired woman with quick, restless eyes, swift, nervous motions, and a wellmodeled figure which was set off to advantage by her clothes, met them at the door of the apartment. Her face showed disappointment. "Oh," she said, "I was expecting… Who are you?"
Paul Drake bowed, and said, "I'm Paul Drake. This is Mr. Mason, Miss DeVoe."
"What is it you want?" she asked. Her speech was very rapid. The words seemed almost to run together.
"We wanted to talk with you," Mason said.
"About some employment," Paul Drake hastened to add. "You're a nurse, aren't you?"
"Yes."
"Well, we wanted to talk with you about some work."
"What sort of a position?"
"I think we could talk it over better if we stepped inside," Drake ventured.
She hesitated a moment, looked up and down the corridor, then stepped back from the door and said, "Very well, you may come in, but only for a few minutes."
The apartment was clean and well cared for as though she had just finished a careful housecleaning. Her hair was perfectly groomed. Her nails were well kept. She wore her clothes with the manner of one who is wearing her best.
Drake sat down, relaxing comfortably, as though he intended to stay for hours.
Mason sat on the arm of an overstuffed chair. He looked at the detective and frowned.
"Now this employment may not be exactly the kind of a job you had in mind," Drake said, "but there's no harm talking it over. Would you mind telling me what your rates are by the day?"
"Do you mean for two or three days, or…"
"No, just one day."
"Ten dollars," she said crisply.
Drake took a billfold from his pocket. He extracted ten dollars but didn't at once pass it over to the nurse.
"I have one day's employment," he said.