My Love Betrayed (15 page)

The inspector was silent, for a while. Finally, he
said, “I see. Gracias, senor. One more detail. What
is the name of the man who gave the party?”

“Doug. Doug MacAffee,” Greg answered
promptly. “Listen, do you have any more
questions for my wife, or shall I hang up?”

“No more questions, senor.”

Greg turned back to the phone. “Edna? Sorry to
bother you like this, but I think that’s all. Yes, yes,
I know. I’ll tell you this evening when I get home.
No, no, I don’t think there’s anything to worry
about. Yes, Miss Steffee is fine. Okay, dear. Take
care. I’ll see you later. Bye.”

Carefully, he replaced the receiver. Ramirez was
frowning. Gravely he said, “You will please, Senor
Iveson, not discuss this matter with anyone, not
even your wife. Tell her… tell her the senorita was
curious, or something.”

Greg sighed. “Very well. But she won’t believe
me, you know. And I should think you’re making a great fuss over nothing. In my opinion, you should
be trying to find the men who attacked Miss
Steffee on Thursday.”

“We have,” Ramirez said, calmly.

“What?”

Ramirez permitted himself a wry smile. `That is
to say, we believe we know the identity of the men
involved and expect to catch them soon. Or,
perhaps not.” He shrugged philosophically. “They
have much practice in evading us.”

Greg nodded. “Yes. Well, if you have no further
questions for me, I would like to get back to
work.”

“Of course, senor. And thank you for your
assistance.”

Greg grimaced as he stood up. As soon as he had
left, I turned to Ramirez and asked, “Well, what
do you think?”

He was frowning. “You did not speak, before, of
a quarrel with Senor Whitford.”

He paused, obviously waiting, so I told him.
Everything. Even going back to the night Rick had
given me the earrings. As I spoke, I watched the
inspector’s face, but it betrayed nothing. He only
said, when I finished, “Perhaps we should speak
with Senor Whitford.”

“You can’t,” I blurted out, “he’s in Chicago!”

“What?”

Flushing, I tried to explain. “Mr. Iveson said
yesterday that Mr. Whitford was flying to Chicago
and wouldn’t be back for a couple of weeks. That’s
all I know.”

Ramirez sighed and swore under his breath.
Then he spoke in rapid Spanish to the other policeman before he said to me, “You will please
excuse me, senorita. I will be back in a very few
minutes.”

But Ramirez was gone at least half an hour.
While he was gone, the other policeman and I
carefully avoided each other’s eyes. Someone
brought more coffee and some pastry. It was a
welcome diversion. When the inspector finally
returned, he was very angry at someone or
something. But he was still very polite to me. At
my questioning look, he said courteously, “It is as
you say. Senor Whitford is in Chicago. And I have
no more questions for you today. Perhaps, in a few
days, there will be more photographs. Be assured,
we will look for this Senor Carden. Meanwhile, I
suggest the senorita try to enjoy herself. And, if
you are frightened of the least thing, I hope you
will call me. Si?”

“Si. “I smiled as I got to my feet.

Ramirez held the door for me as I left. “Good
day, senorita.”

“Good day,” I murmured as I slipped past him
and out into the hall. Absurdly, I felt a sense of
relief that the questioning was over.

Carlos and the other men, Jaime, Luiz, and
Eduardo, shut up abruptly as I entered the room.
Eduardo, normally a rather shy fellow, broke the
silence. “Trouble, Ellen?”

I shook my head. “Not for me. The police
believe they know who attacked me, that’s all.” I
stopped, realizing how unconvincing I must
sound. “I…they also asked more questions about
Rick Kemmler. I don’t know why.”

“And Senor Carden?” Luiz asked mischievously.

I started, then realized, of course, the company
grapevine would have passed along the news that
the police had asked to speak with Mr. Carden. It
was inevitable. “Okay,” I said with a sigh, “I met
someone who said his name was Ralph Carden.
Wrong Carden.”

Jaime would have asked more questions, but
Carlos cut him off, saying, “Hey! We have work to
do!”

I smiled at Carlos gratefully as I took a chair. In
return, Carlos explained the progress they had
made while I was gone. As Carlos talked, I was
impressed, as usual, by his competence. I only
wished I could tell him that Mr. Iveson had said he
would soon be in charge.

Some time later, as we waited for Luiz to punch
up and run our latest program, the men and I took
a fifteen-minute break. At first, they were talking
together in Spanish, while I just sat back and
relaxed. Then Carlos left the others and came over
and sat next to me. Again, he seemed to eye me
oddly, but all he said was, “We’re working hard
today, yes?” He waited until I nodded before he
went on. “After hard work it is good to relax, yes?”
Again I nodded. “We, some friends and I” he
waved a hand toward the others “we are going to
a small cabaret tonight. Perhaps you would like to
come along?”

“On a Monday night?” I asked, puzzled.

He laughed. “Si. My brother, he and two
friends, they have developed an act and they have convinced another friend, the owner of a small
place, to let them perform. Early. But, of course,
this friend will say yes only if it is a week night.”

Still, I hesitated.

Carlos seemed to understand. “I assure you, we
will have you home before midnight. It will be
much fun, I promise!” The idea was very
appealing. I needed a chance to relax after the past
week. But still, perhaps out of fear, I hesitated.
Suddenly, in a much softer voice, Carlos said,
“Senor Whitford suggested we watch out for you.”

Startled, I lifted my eyes to his. Carlos was
staring at me, his face very grave. He glanced at the
others, then went on, in a low, rapid voice. “I have
a letter for you, from Whitford. It would be better
if you did not read it here.”

I nodded, caught up in the concern I saw in
Carlos’s face. From his jacket pocket, he pulled
out an envelope. I slipped it into my purse, on the
desk beside me. I only had time to note that the
stationery was not from the Hotel Bamer. Luiz
appeared then, before I could make an excuse to
go to the ladies’ rest room. We were all caught up
again in the work, and it wasn’t until close to
quitting time that I had a chance to take another
break. And read the letter.

My footsteps sounded unnaturally loud to me as
I walked the short distance to the rest room. I
found myself hoping the lounge would be empty.
It was. For once, I was grateful that I worked on a
floor with few women, none of whom I knew. No
one, wandering in, would expect me to gossip.
None would feel free to ask about the letter.

The envelope was plain; the paper was company
stationery. I had never seen Charles’s handwriting,
so I couldn’t know whether it was his or not. The
letter seemed to have been written quickly. In my
haste, I read it through twice before the words
began to sink in.

Ellen:

I haven’t much time. By the time you read
this, I’ll be in Chicago. I leave in less than an
hour. Ellen, I think you were drugged last
night at the party. And I’m betting that it
won’t be the last attempt. So, first of all, BE
CAREFUL. I tried reaching Ramirez at the
police station. No luck. I’m mailing him a
letter, explaining what I think happened, but
I don’t know when he’ll get it. Right now, I’ve
just finished talking with Carlos. I don’t know
who else to tell you to trust. More people than
either of us realize may be involved. But not
Carlos. That I’m sure of.

I know you must be feeling furious at me.
First, I tell you you’re in danger. Then, I tell
you I’m leaving town and don’t know when
I’ll be back. But, believe me, Ellen, it’s
absolutely necessary.

By now, you must also be feeling suspicious. How do you know it’s really me who
wrote this letter? (At least, I hope you’re
suspicious!) Do you remember the anthropological museum? And telling me that I
disliked balloons, young men and women,
and cats and dogs, as well? Or noticing, the first time I took you to dinner, that I wasn’t
wearing a wedding ring? I hope so, because
it’s all I can think of.

Hopefully, I’ll see you in a week, or less,
Ellen. In the meantime, be careful. Don’t tell
anyone about this letter except the police.

And, Ellen, when I come back, maybe I’ll
have the chance to tell you that I love you.

Charles

I stared at the letter, stunned. Not quite sure
what stunned me most. The only thing I was
certain of, was that Charles had written the letter.
And he thought maybe he loved me.

I heard footsteps then, approaching the rest
room, and I hastily folded the note and put it back
in my purse. It was time, anyway, that I got back to
work. Briskly, I opened the door as a slightly
dowdy, middle-aged woman started to enter. For a
brief moment, we stared at each other, then
passed. Neither of us smiled.

When I reached our workroom, I had another
surprise. Greg Iveson was waiting by my desk.

Instinctively, I glanced at my watch. No, I was
right. Mr. Iveson was early, by at least half an
hour. As I looked up from my watch, Greg looked
up from the papers on my desk that he had been
studying. He smiled. “Ah, Miss Steffee, there you
are. I’m leaving somewhat early today. I hope that
won’t inconvenience you? You’ve had a rough day,
also, and I’m sure you could use a rest.”

I glanced over at Carlos, who was pretending to
be busy, and said regretfully, “Actually, Mr.
Iveson, we are in the middle of some important
runs. Besides, the men have invited me to join
them this evening. They thought I might like to go
to a nightclub.”

Greg raised his eyebrows in surprise, but he
sounded pleased as he replied, “Really? That
sounds like a marvelous idea, Miss Steffee. Lord
knows you look as though you could use some fun.
How will you get home? A taxi?”

“I have a car. I will drive her,” Carlos answered,
suddenly appearing beside me.

Greg nodded. “Excellent. Well, then, I shall see
you tonight, or rather, I suspect, tomorrow
morning. Here, let me give you a key. Don’t want
you locked out again, my dear.”

I smiled and thanked him as I took the key. Mr.
Iveson nodded and started to leave. At the
doorway, he paused. “Oh, by the way, what
nightclub is it?”

I looked at Carlos, who shrugged his shoulders
and said, “Perhaps several small ones.”

Greg seemed satisfied. When he was gone, I
turned to Carlos. “Well, how was that last run?”

There were a great many questions I wanted to
ask Carlos, but it was obvious I would have no
chance to then. When we finally left the office, all
five of us, it was late. We were still caught up in the
day’s work. Somehow, I found myself in the center
of the group, almost hidden from view. And either
my Spanish was rapidly improving, or their
English was, because I seemed to find it easy to
follow what was said. Everyone seemed to take my
presence as a matter of course.

After a few blocks, we hopped a bus, Eduardo
paying the fare for all of us. It was crowded but
fun. After a while, we changed buses. It was a long ride, but eventually we were in a portion of the city
I had never seen before. I noted a few small shops
and restaurants, but most of the buildings seemed
to be private homes. The sidewalks were full of
people and it was apparent that this was a favorite
time for families to take a walk. We entered one of
the small restaurants. Luiz obviously knew the
owner. Or, perhaps I should say, the owner knew
Luiz. He was a portly man, in his mid-fifties, and
he greeted Luiz like a son. “Actually, a nephew,”
Carlos explained when I whispered a comment.

At that moment, the Spanish slowed, and the
owner turned to greet the rest of us. I gathered he
had met all the men before. Me, he greeted with a
sort of half bow, but I had the feeling he wasn’t
altogether pleased to see me. Neither was his wife,
though after a brief glance at me, she was clucking
over Luiz.

We were the only customers in the place that
early, and the owners shepherded us to the best
table. It was large and in the corner and had an
excellent view of the rest of the room. Best of all, it
wasn’t in the path to the kitchen. After a few
minutes of fussing, we were left alone. Without
menus. I glanced at Luiz quizzically, but Eduardo
explained, “The food, it will be very good, very
plentiful, very reasonable. You will see.”

Carlos added, with a smile, “They always fix a
special meal for us.”

At that point, I noticed Luiz was grinning. So
did the others. When he had our attention, he said,
“My aunt and uncle, they are” he hesitated over
the word he wanted “scandalized the young senorita dines alone with so many men! I tell them,
Ellen, that you are Americano and they warn me
we must comport ourselves well with you!”