Experiment in Crime Read Free

It's snobbishness, in a way. I felt tempted. . . ." he broke off.

    "Tempted, Martin? How?" She seemed to relish the idea that he was tempted by anything.

    "Well--I can hardly say how. Here we live--in the very midst of a world we never encounter. We read of it in the papers. We learn of it in sociological texts. But the University Campus is as far from the gay life of, say, Miami Beach, as if an ocean lay between-instead of a bay crossed by three causeways. I lecture on gambling. But I have never observed the fact. I was tempted to take precedent in my hands--and go and see."

    "Why not?" she asked quickly.

    His iced tea halted in mid-air, as if by an invisible brake. "I scarcely expected such a reaction from you!"

    Bedelia balanced jam on the remnants of a scone. "Martin, did it ever occur to you that a man can become stuffy--by not resisting stuffiness?"

    "Stuffy? A harsh term, Bedelia."

    "Why don't you put on your dinner clothes, Martin, and drive over to the Beach and watch some genuine, illegal gambling. You might even see a gangster."

    "Because," he answered, obviously wishing the subject had never reached that point. "I haven't the price of a costly meal in my pocket. I would hardly indulge in gambling. And I would hardly patronize such a place with no such intentions. Finally"--
    he smiled with satisfaction--"I wouldn't have the faintest idea of where to go!"

    "The Club Egret," she said, "which is off Collins, at the north end of the Beach.
    Mrs. Witherspoon told me Wednesday that she lost a hundred and twenty dollars there, the night before. It was probably ten dollars. I have some cash--and you can give me a check. I've kept cash in the house ever since I first moved here. Went to the bank to get the money for a rail ticket and found it was Lee's Birthday! I drew out a hundred dollars the following morning--and I keep it on tap. No telling what obscure Southern heroes might close the banks, I thought-and how was I to remember the date of Lee's Birthday?"

    "Really, Bedelia," he said uneasily, "it's most kind. But I wouldn't think of it."

    Her face took on an expression of sympathetic contradiction.

Chapter III
    He did not know whether he was elated or depressed. The long drive from Coral Gables across the luminous causeway to Miami Beach was exhilarating but not reassuring. He had previously been swimming at Miami Beach. He had played golf there on occasion. He had never visited it at night--and at night the homes seemed richer and more mysterious--the streets strange and a little confusing. The hotels were altogether startling: bathed in colored light--fretted and fringed from top to bottom in cascades of electric glitter. It was opulent and it was ominous.

    He located the Club Egret--and drove past it. The Club Egret was boldly set amidst showy residences. It had no windows. Under its portico, attendants were serving the owners of vehicles which markedly outshone his prewar, hand-repainted coupe.
    Conscience urged him both ways. To enter was folly; not to enter, after being committed, was weak. He drove around the block and under the portico.

    An obviously disenchanted attendant handed a parking check to him. He gave the man a quarter and received audible thanks. He walked up a flight of stairs.

    He found himself in a foyer. There was a checkroom at his left--and a curtained hall--guarded, apparently, by two men in tuxedoes. Straight ahead was a bar-long and shimmering--low lighted--with tables and people at the tables. Men in sports coats--in plain suits--and a few, he saw with relief, in dinner jackets. Overhead was a rosy, vaulted dome. To his right were steps going down--into a tremendous dining room where people in twos and sixes and twenties were busily consuming dinner. The dining room had grey walls with chromium trimmings, a thick, grey carpet, and glass stars in its ceiling; behind each star was a colored light. A large orchestra played rhythmically on a podium. People were dancing. The