Lost Among the Angels (A Mercy Allcutt Book) (32 page)

      I sipped more tea. It occurred to me that I hadn’t eaten any lunch, and I was really hungry. “When’s dinner?” I hoped Chloe and Harvey weren’t having guests, because when they had guests, they ate later than usual.

      “Seven.”

      “Good.” I sighed heavily.

      “I like him,” said Chloe.

      I squinted at her. “You like who? I mean whom? At least I think I do.”

      “Oh, forget the grammar! I like Ernie Templeton. I think he likes you, too.”

      Astounded, I could only gape.

      “Don’t look at me like that, Mercy Allcutt,” Chloe said. “He’s a good-looking guy, he’s helpful in a crisis, and he’s funny. He’s got a wonderful sense of humor.”

      “He does?” I hadn’t noticed that particular quality in my employer, perhaps because his humor often came out as sarcasm that he turned against me.

      “You know he does.”

      “I guess.” I really didn’t want to talk about Ernie with Chloe. Every time I thought about Ernie I got funny tripping sensations in my chest. I didn’t understand them, and I didn’t have any inclination to have Chloe explain them to me. Slowly I rose from my chair. Every time I moved, my skinned knees crinkled and throbbed. “I’m going upstairs and take a long, soaking bath.”

      “Good idea. You might think about washing your hair, too.”

      I slapped a hand to my head. My hat was still there, but I guess it hadn’t protected me entirely from the day’s activities. With another sigh, I agreed. “Yes. You’re probably right.”

* * * * *

      It would have been a pleasure to walk to Angel’s Flight the next morning if my knees hadn’t hurt so badly. As I’d soaked in the bathtub the night before, I’d discovered other wounds, as well. My palms were scraped, my elbows were bashed up, I had bruises on my shins, a big one on my backside where I’d hit the concrete of the plaza, and a huge one over my ribs, which ached madly, where that gangster had run into me. It would take a while to get back to my fighting form, I guessed.

      Still, it was fun to take Angel’s Flight, even if it was a more painful experience than usual. At least I didn’t have any mad killers stalking me any longer.

      When I got to work, Lulu jumped up from her desk and came to help me into the building. I didn’t really need her assistance, but it was nice of her to offer—even though I’m pretty sure she did it because she wanted to talk about the events of the prior day.

      “I guess Ned’s pretty badly broken up,” she said in a hushed voice.

      “Well, he did deserve it, I guess. I mean, he was going to kill me, and he’d already killed that one woman.”

      “More than that,” said Lulu avidly.

      “What?” I gaped at her.

      “Look at this!”

      We’d made it to her desk by that time, and she grabbed a copy of the
Herald Examiner
that she’d been reading, in lieu of painting her nails, I guess, before I got there. “Look! It says he’s wanted in connection with the murder of another woman in Texas, of all places!”

      “Texas?” Good heavens. If you’re from Boston, you don’t very often think about people actually living in places like Texas. Texas sounded so … so … I don’t know. Full of cows and armed cowboys. It sounded primitive, I guess. Anyhow, Ned had proved himself to be a primitive, at the very least. “Is that where Ned was from?”

      Lulu shrugged. “I dunno, but he musta lived there, ’cause the paper says he might have strangled a woman there, too.”

      “How do they know that?” Personally, I was skeptical, mainly because I couldn’t feature a police station in Texas and the Los Angeles Police Department comparing notes on a daily basis.

      “Look,” said Lulu, pointing at the paper with one of her blood-red talons. “It says right here that when the authorities asked Ned where he was from—”

      “You mean, he was capable of talking to them?” I hadn’t realized until that moment that I’d been feeling faintly guilty about sending Ned down that elevator shaft, although I know I shouldn’t have. After all, the man had been trying to kill me.

      “I guess. Anyhow, when they asked if he had folks anywhere, he mentioned a town in Texas. Spur.”

      I looked at her blankly.

      “Spur!” she repeated. “That’s the name of the town! Isn’t that a hoot?”

      It was, kind of. “So they called somebody in Spur?”

      “Yeah. The police. Or the sheriff. You know, it’s probably a sheriff, being Texas and all.”

      Images of cowboy-hatted men on horses galloped into my brain. I shook my head to get rid of them. “Maybe so.”

      “Well, they said that Ned was suspected in the murder of a young woman in Spur. He’d thought she was in love with him, and when she got engaged to another man, he—Ned, I mean—killed her.”

      “So it was a pattern,” I murmured, lifting my hand to my throat. “And to think that I might have been his next victim.”

      “It’s enough to give you the creeps, huh?”

      It certainly was. As I headed to the office, I paused, discovering within myself a reluctance to take the elevator. When I turned to go to the stairwell, I realized I was reluctant to climb the stairs, too. Something about being in a confined area with no easy escape made my skin crawl. Telling myself to cut it out, I climbed up the stairs. Along about the second flight, I mentally scolded myself for cowardice. The elevator might have been where Ned met the end of his criminous career, but the elevator was a blessed sight easier on skinned knees and an achy body than the stairs were.

      However, I made it to the office without mishap, and when I unlocked the door and entered, a feeling of well-being engulfed me. I had a job! And it wasn’t just any job, either. It was a job that had promised excitement and actually delivered it! Plots began creeping around in my mind, and I decided that if work was dull that day, I’d jolly well begin to type them out. Why not? My job was my inspiration. Perhaps it could also provide a place for my novelistic outpourings. I was sure Ernie wouldn’t mind. If I ever dared tell him.

      He showed up a little while later, as jaunty as ever. “How’re you feeling today?” was his first question, which I thought was nice.

      “Fine, thank you. And you?”

      “I’m not the one with the bashed-up knees,” he reminded me.

      “They’re fine. They’ll heal soon.”

      “How about the ribs where that guy fell over you. You don’t think any of them are cracked, do you?”

      I fingered my sore ribs, aghast. “Cracked? How would I tell?”

      “If they were cracked, you’d know it,” he assured me.

      “Oh. Well, then, they’re sore, but I don’t think they’re cracked.”

      “Good.” He went to his office, stopped in the doorway, and hurled his hat at the rack. I heard it plop to the floor. Ernie said, “Damn,” and walked inside. I envisioned him picking it up and putting it on the rack, and taking off his coat and hanging it up, too, then plopping down in his chair, and putting his feet on the desk. My timing was perfect. At the very moment I expected to hear the newspaper crinkle as he opened it, I heard the newspaper crinkle as he opened it.

      Life was good.

      It got better a little while later when who should appear but Barbara-Ann Houser. She entered the office with what looked like trepidation. I don’t know why, unless she figured I wouldn’t want to see her anymore after her mother was back home. Poor child. I’d formed quite a fondness for her, really.

      That being the case, I smiled brightly. “Good morning, Barbara-Ann! I’m so happy to see you.”

      “You are?”

      “Yes.” To prove it, I got up from my chair, in spite of my knees, and went to give her a hug. Perhaps the hug was a mistake, because she stiffened up like cement setting and her eyes went wide with alarm. Oh, well.

      Returning to my desk, I patted the seat next to it. “Have a seat, Barbara-Ann. Did you get to go back home yet?”

      “Yeah. Ma and me, we moved back yesterday after the coppers picked up Matty Bumpas and threw him in the joint.”

      “Ah.” I think I’d understood that sentence correctly.

      “And Ma, she wanted me to give you this. She don’t have money, but she wanted to give you something because you were nice to us.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out an ashtray with
Kit Kat Klub
stenciled in gold on its outsides. Inside a picture of a black-and-white cat’s face had been painted.

      Wondering what I was supposed to do with something like that, I took it from her and smiled. “Thank you so much, Barbara-Ann. That’s very kind of you and your mother.” Something occurred to me. “Um … your mother got her job back, didn’t she?”

      Barbara-Ann nodded. “Yeah. They said she could come back to work since she hadn’t just up and run out on them, but she’d been kidnapped.”

      Benevolent of them. “I’m happy to hear it. But you must be rather short of funds since she hasn’t been working for a couple of weeks.”

      “Three,” said Barbara-Ann.

      “Three weeks?”

      “Yeah.”

      I tried to imagine living on the wage that Babs Houser earned. I didn’t know how much that was, but I knew what I was making working for Ernie, and it wasn’t much. Even living week-to-week would take some scrimping if I had to depend on my salary for my everyday expenses including food and housing. My heart twanged in sympathy. “Then I suppose you really
are
short of funds, aren’t you?”

      Naturally, Barbara-Ann shrugged. “I dunno. What does that mean? Does that mean we got no money?”

      “Well … yes.”

      “Yeah. We’re flat busted. Ma said it’ll take a while, and maybe the water will be turned off again.”

      “Oh, dear.” I looked at the child sitting next to me, and decided I couldn’t allow that to happen.

      I know, I know. I’m softhearted and probably softheaded, but darn it, I’d been born lucky and Barbara-Ann Houser hadn’t been. I opened my desk drawer and took out my handbag. Taking out two twenty-dollar bills, I handed them to Barbara-Ann, whose eyes went as round as saucers. “Do you think this will help with the utilities, dear?”

      “Forty bucks?” she whispered. “That’ll take care of the rent and the water and gas and electric and everything. Maybe even buy some bread and milk.”

      “Take it, then. It’s a gift.”

      “Gee,” she said, awed. “Thanks.”

      And, to my utter astonishment, she got up, leaned over, and kissed me on the cheek. I was touched. Barbara-Ann herself was clearly embarrassed. She turned red as a radish and beat a hasty retreat, calling out another “Thanks,” from the doorway.

      After she left, I sat back in my chair and sighed. A feeling of accomplishment and satisfaction suffused my very being.

      Until Ernie spoke from the door of his office. “I saw that,” said he.

      I started and turned to frown at him. “Don’t do that. I’m still skittish from yesterday.”

      “You gave them more money, didn’t you?”

      I huffed. “You said you saw it.”

      “I did. And I saw you give them more money.”

      “So what?”

      “You’re going to go broke, is what. I thought you wanted to earn money at a job. You keep giving it away. Any normal girl would need her salary to keep going, you know.”

      With a sigh, I admitted it. “I know. All right, so I spent quite a bit more than I’ve earned during my first two weeks as your secretary. Still, I learned a lot, it was exciting, and it was a very valuable learning experience.” I smiled winningly. “I’m looking forward to working for you for a long time, Ernie Templeton.”

      He gave me an odd look. “Yeah?”

      “Yes.”

      “Hmm.” He fingered his lower lip. “Well, all right, but I’m not sure I can stand the strain.” And he turned and went back into his office.

      I’m pretty sure he was kidding.