He took it without permission.
We always let him take a car on his night off, but last night wasn't his night off." She made a wry mouth. "Do you think — "
"He knew about this nude photo?
How would I be able to say?
I don't rule him out.
Can you get five thousand in cash right away?"
"Not unless I tell Dad — or borrow it.
I could probably borrow it from Eddie Mars.
He ought to be generous with me, heaven knows."
"Better try that.
You may need it in a hurry."
She leaned back and hung an arm over the back of the chair.
"How about telling the police?"
"It's a good idea.
But you won't do it."
"Won't I?"
"No.
You have to protect your father and your sister.
You don't know what the police might turn up.
It might be something they couldn't sit on.
Though they usually try in blackmail cases."
"Can you do anything?"
"I think I can.
But I can't tell you why or how."
"I like you," she said suddenly. "You believe in miracles.
Would you have a drink in the office?"
I unlocked my deep drawer and got out my office bottle and two pony glasses.
I filled them and we drank.
She snapped her bag shut and pushed the chair back.
"I'll get the five grand," she said. "I've been a good customer of Eddie Mars.
There's another reason why he should be nice to me, which you may not know."
She gave me one of those smiles the lips have forgotten before they reach the eyes. "Eddie's blonde wife is the lady Rusty ran away with."
I didn't say anything.
She stared tightly at me and added:
"That doesn't interest you?"
"It ought to make it easier to find him — if I was looking for him.
You don't think he's in this mess, do you?"
She pushed her empty glass at me. "Give me another drink. You're the hardest guy to get anything out of. You don't even move your ears." I filled the little glass.
"You've got all you wanted out of me — a pretty good idea I'm not looking for your husband."
She put the drink down very quickly.
It made her gasp — or gave her an opportunity to gasp.
She let a breath out slowly.
"Rusty was no crook.
If he had been, it wouldn't have been for nickles.
He carried fifteen thousand dollars, in bills.
He called it his mad money.
He had it when I married him and he had it when he left me.
No — Rusty's not in on any cheap blackmail racket." She reached for the envelope and stood up. "I'll keep in touch with you," I said. "If you want to leave me a message, the phone girl at my apartment house will take care of it."
We walked over to the door.
Tapping the white envelope against her knuckles, she said: