1945 - Blonde's Requiem Read Free

waited.
    The door was opened by a little man in shirt, trousers and slippers. He wore no collar and he hadn ’ t shaved. His thin, yellow face looked sad. “ Yes, please? ” he asked, peering at me through thick glasses.
    “ Mr. McArthur? ”
    He nodded. I could see he was surprised to be called mister. He looked like a guy who had been kicked around plenty in his day.
    “ It ’ s about your daughter, ” I said, watching him carefully.
    Fear and hope crowded into his eyes and he had to steady himself against the door. “ Have—have they found her? ” he said with pathetic, crushed eagerness.
    “ Not yet. ” I moved a step forward. “ I ’ d like to come in a moment. ”
    His face sagged with disappointment, but he stood aside. “ We ’ re in a bit of a mess, ” he muttered apologetically. “ It ain ’ t easy to keep things going with this hanging over us. ”
    I made sympathetic noises and closed the door. The room was clean, small and poorly furnished. Some stockings and women ’ s underclothes hung on a string across one side of the room.
    McArthur stood by the table and looked at me questioningly. “ Who did you say you were from? ”
    I took out my identity card and waved the shield at him. Before he could take a good look, it was back in my pocket. “ I ’ m checking on your daughter ’ s disappearance, ” I said. “ Give me the help I want and I ’ ll get her back. ”
    “ Of course, ” he said eagerly. “ What did you want to know? So many people have been around asking questions. ” He twisted his fingers. “ But nothing ’ s been done. ”
    I sat on the corner of the table. “ What do you think ’ s happened to her? ”
    “ I don ’ t know. ” He tried to control, his hands, but he wasn ’ t successful. They reminded me of two white fluttering moths. “ I don ’ t seem able to think properly since it happened. ”
    “ Was she unhappy at home? I mean do you think she ’ s run away or something like that? ”
    He shook his head helplessly. “ She was a good girl. She had a good job and she was happy. ”
    “ Do you believe this stuff about a mass-killer being at large? ”
    He sat down abruptly and hid his face in his hands. “ I don ’ t know. ”
    He wasn ’ t helping much.
    “ You know these disappearances are being used to gain votes for the coming election, ” I said as patiently as I could. “ It ’ s not possible, is it, that these girls are being paid to duck out of sight? I mean your girl wouldn ’ t do a thing like that? ”
    “ Whatever ’ s happened to Luce has happened against her will, ” he whispered.
    “ You don ’ t think she ’ s dead, do you, mister? ”
    I thought it was likely, but I didn ’ t say so. Before I could go on, the door jerked open and a big, grey-haired woman came in. Her eyes were swollen and red and stony.
    “ Who is it, Tom? ” she said, going to him.
    McArthur looked vague and uneasy. “ Someone about Luce. ”
    “ It ’ s all right, Mrs. McArthur, ” I said hastily, “ I ’ m helping with the investigation. ”
    She looked me over and her mouth tightened. “ You ’ re working for Wolf. ”
    She got excited about that. Turning on McArthur, she said: “ You fool! Why did you let him in? He ’ s Wolf ’ s spy. ”
    McArthur looked pleadingly at her. “ He ’ s going to help, ” he explained anxiously. “ We want all the help we can, Mary. ”
    She walked to the door and threw it open. “ Get out! ” she said to me.
    I shook my head. “ You don ’ t understand, Mrs. McArthur, ” I said soothingly.
    “ The more people in on this, the quicker we ’ ll get results. You want your daughter back and I can help you. It won ’ t cost you-anything. ”
    “ He ’ s right, Mary, ” McArthur said eagerly. “ He only wants to help. ”
    “ I ’ m taking no help from a louse like Wolf, ” the woman said, and she went out, closing the door violently.
    McArthur wrung his hands. “ You ’ d better go, ” he