The Dust of Death

Chapter 29

Mrs. Glenny would not be in. Her sister was ill, and the secretary had requested the day off. Flix graciously told her to take the remainder of the week and take care of family matters."

"Mr. Flix," Mrs. Glenny said, "how considerate of you. How can I thank you? I don't know what to say."

"Your thanks are enough. Go on, now," Flix said.

"But, I have letters to type and files to . . . "

"Go. Do not worry about the office. Your focus is on helping your sister recover from her operation."

And that was why Flix found himself at Mrs. Glenny's desk sorting through an enormous pile of mail.

Phalen entered.

"So, how's the life of our latest secretary?" he jokingly said to Flix.

"I don't know how she manages to make this job look so easy. Remind me to give her a raise when she returns," Flix said.

Phalen wandered to the kitchenette to put his hat on the rack. He patted Baby and grabbed an apple from the bowl of fruit that Flix kept on the table.

"What's this, Cupid? Did you buy out Bernie's magazine stand?"

"No. Of course not. I just thought Mrs. Glenny would like some new reading material when she comes back.

"I don't know why you waste your money on such rubbish" Phalen muttered to himself.

He shook his head. The magazines were hysterical. Beautiful dames looked out from the covers, dressed in slinky, low-cut dresses, sexy and hard and sporting smoking machine guns from their hips. Unbelievable. Headlines screamed. Baffling. Unsolved cases. Murder and intrigue.

Phalen picked up one from the pile.

MURDER! MURDER! MURDER! AND THE KILLER GETS AWAY!

"He so often does," Phalen murmured.

On the cover was a drawing of a square-jawed man, crazy eyes, heavy brows, with a mean look on his face. The man was wearing evening clothes, expensive, hand-tailored. In his fist was the inevitable smoking semi-automatic pistol.

It's so funny, Phalen thought.

"But, damn, if he doesn't resemble Corso," Phalen said.

Something caught Phalen's eye. It was easy to miss. His lapel. What was the man wearing on his lapel?

Phalen held the magazine up to the window to get a better look.

"Hmm, that's quite unique," Phalen said.

"I don't know how she does it," Flix was murmuring. "Guess what! It's our payment from Mrs. Lime. Dear me!"

"What. Is it a check? Think it will bounce?" Phalen asked, coming to look over Flix's shoulder as he sat at Mrs. Grundy's desk.

"No. It's not the payment that has me worried. It's this note. Read it. It sounds like a suicide note."

"Suicide! You're right. It does!" Phalen said, quickly scanning the note.

Both men grabbed their hats and hurried from the office.

They knocked on the apartment door of Mrs. Lime.

"Who is it?" she asked. "Door's open."

"You look very elegant, Mrs. Lime," Flix said, entering the apartment.

"Why, thank you, Mr. Flix," said Marion. "You always are the consummate gentleman."

Flix, hat in hand, bowed his head slightly toward her. Marion was drunk. That much was obvious. Phalen scanned the room.

"To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure, gentlemen?" Marion said.

"We have come to offer our sympathies, Mrs. Lime, and to return your check," said Flix.

"Well, you've obviously seen the papers," Marion said. "Drink?"

"No, thank you," said Flix.

"Afraid the check's no good then," Marion said, flatly.

"Not that either, Mrs. Lime. My partner and I discussed the matter thoroughly and decided that we cannot take your money. We investigated Mr. Lime but came up empty handed. It would not be fair to you for us to take full payment."

"I see. Charity."

Marion swayed a little.

"God, it's hot in here," she said, moving toward the tall open window.

"Mrs. Lime, come over here to the table. Sit down. We can work out a compromise. I am sure. A small percentage of the full fee will be enough," said Phalen.

"Pretty view, isn't it," she drawled. "Above it all, you know."

"Yes," said Flix. "Your apartment is very beautiful.

"Fifteen stories. You don't get the noise or the smells this far up. It's heaven."

Mrs. Lime threw her head back and polished off the last of her drink.

"Pure heaven," she said, flinging herself out the open window before either man could make a move to save her.

Both men stood helplessly, watching the airy curtains billow and dance in the wind.