nextmorningthebellrangasiwaswipingthetalcumoffanearlobe.whenigottothedoorandopenedupilookedintoapairofviolet-blueeyes.shewasinbrownlinenthistime,withapimento-coloredscarf,andnoearringsorhat.shelookedalittlepale,butnotasthoughanyonehadbeenthrowingherdownstairs.shegavemeahesitantlittlesmile.

“iknowishouldn’thavecomeheretobotheryou,mr.marlowe.youprobablyhaven’tevenhadbreakfast.butihadareluctancetogotoyourofficeandihatetelephoningaboutpersonalmatters.”

“sure.comein,mrs.wade.wouldyougoforacupofcoffee?”

shecameintothelivingroomandsatonthedavenportwithoutlookingatanything.shebalancedherbagonherlapandsatwithherfeetclosetogether.shelookedratherprim.iopenedwindowsandpulledupvenetianblindsandliftedadirtyashtrayoffthecocktailtableinfrontofher.

“thankyou.blackcoffee,please.nosugar.”

iwentouttothekitchenandspreadapapernapkinonagreenmetaltray.itlookedascheesyasacelluloidcollar.icrumpleditupandgotoutoneofthosefringedthingsthatcomeinsetswithlittletriangularnapkins.theycamewiththehouse,likemostofthefurniture.isetouttwodesertrosecoffeecupsandfilledthemandcarriedthetrayin.

shesipped.“thisisverynice,”shesaid.“youmakegoodcoffee.”

“lasttimeanyonedrankcoffeewithmewasjustbeforeiwenttojail,”isaid.“iguessyouknewi’dbeeninthecooler,mrs.wade.”

shenodded.“ofcourse.youweresuspectedofhavinghelpedhimescape,wasn’tit?”

“theydidn’tsay.theyfoundmytelephonenumberonapadinhisroom.theyaskedmequestionsididn’tanswer—mostlybecauseofthewaytheywereasked.butidon’tsupposeyouareinterestedinthat.”

sheputhercupdowncarefullyandleanedbackandsmiledatme.iofferedheracigarette.

“idon’tsmoke,thankyou.ofcoursei’minterested.aneighborofoursknewthelennoxes.hemusthavebeeninsane.hedoesn’tsoundatalllikethatkindofman.”

ifilledabulldogpipeandlitit.“iguessso,”isaid.“hemusthavebeen.hewasbadlywoundedinthewar.buthe’sdeadandit’salldonewith.andidon’tthinkyoucameheretotalkaboutthat.”

sheshookherheadslowly.“hewasafriendofyours,mr.marlowe.youmusthaveaprettystrongopinion.andithinkyouareaprettydeterminedman.”

itampedthetobaccoinmypipeandlititagain.itookmytimeandstaredatheroverthepipebowlwhileiwasdoingit.

“look,mrs.wade,”isaidfinally.“myopinionmeansnothing.ithappenseveryday.themostunlikelypeoplecommitthemostunlikelycrimes.niceoldladiespoisonwholefamilies.clean-cutkidscommitmultipleholdupsandshootings.bankmanagerswithspotlessrecordsgoingbacktwentyyearsarefoundouttobelong-termembezzlers.andsuccessfulandpopularandsupposedlyhappynovelistsgetdrunkandputtheirwivesinthehospital.weknowdamnlittleaboutwhatmakesevenourbestfriendstick.”

ithoughtitwouldburnherup,butshedidn’tdomuchmorethanpressherlipstogetherandnarrowhereyes.

“howardspencershouldn’thavetoldyouthat,”shesaid.“itwasmyownfault.ididn’tknowenoughtokeepawayfromhim.i’velearnedsincethattheonethingyoucanneverdotoamanwhoisdrinkingtoomuchistotrytostophim.youprobablyknowthatmuchbetterthanido.”

“youcertainlycan’tstophimwithwords,”isaid.“ifyou’relucky,andifyouhavethestrength,youcansometimeskeephimfromhurtinghimselforsomeoneelse.eventhattakesluck.”

shereachedquietlyforhercoffeecupandsaucer.herhandswerelovely,liketherestofher.thenailswerebeautifullyshapedandpolishedandonlyveryslightlytinted.

“didhowardtellyouhehadn’tseenmyhusbandthistime?”

“yeah.”

shefinishedhercoffeeandputthecupcarefullybackonthetray.shefiddledwiththespoonforafewseconds.thenshespokewithoutlookingupatme.

“hedidn’ttellyouwhy,becausehedidn’tknow.iamveryfondofhowardbutheisthemanagingtype,wantstotakechargeofeverything.hethinksheisveryexecutive.”

iwaited,notsayinganything.therewasanothersilence.shelookedatmequicklythenlookedawayagain.verysoftlyshesaid:“myhusbandhasbeenmissingforthreedays.idon’tknowwhereheis.icameheretoaskyoutofindhimandbringhimhome.oh,ithashappenedbefore.onetimehedrovehimselfallthewaytoportlandandgotsickinahotelthereandhadtogetadoctortosoberhimup.it’sawonderhowheevergotthatfarwithoutgettingintotrouble.hehadn’teatenanythingforthreedays.anothertimehewasinaturkishbathinlongbeach,oneofthoseswedishplaceswheretheygivehighcolonics.andthelasttimeitwassomesortofsmallprivateandprobablynotveryreputablesanitarium.thiswaslessthanthreeweeksago.hewouldn’ttellmethenameofitorwhereitwas,justsaidhehadbeentakingacureandwasallright.buthelookeddeadlypaleandweak.igotabriefglimpseofthemanwhobroughthimhome.atallyoungmandressedinthesortofoverelaboratecowboyoutfityouwouldonlyseeonthestageorinatechnicolormusicalfilm.heletrogeroutinthedrivewayandbackedoutanddroveawayatonce.”

“couldhavebeenaduderanch,”isaid.“someofthesetamecowpunchersspendeverydimetheymakeonafancyoutfitlikethat.thewomengocrazyoverthem.that’swhatthey’retherefor.”

sheopenedherbagandtookoutafoldedpaper,“i’vebroughtyouacheckforfivehundreddollars,mr.marlowe.willyouacceptitasaretainer?”

sheputthefoldedcheckdownonthetable.ilookedatit,butdidn’ttouchit.“why?”iaskedher.“yousayhehasbeengonethreedays.ittakesthreeorfourtosoberamanupandgetsomefoodintohim.won’thecomebackthewayhedidbefore?ordoessomethingmakethistimedifferent?”

“hecan’tstandmuchmoreofit,mr.marlowe.itwillkillhim.theintervalsaregettingshorter.i’mbadlyworried.i’mmorethanworried,i’mscared.it’sunnatural.we’vebeenmarriedforfiveyears.rogerwasalwaysadrinker,butnotapsychopathicdrinker.somethingisallwrong.iwanthimfound.ididn’tsleepmorethananhourlastnight.”

“anyideawhyhedrinks?”

thevioleteyeswerelookingatmesteadily.sheseemedabitfragilethismorning,butcertainlynothelpless.shebitherlowerlipandshookherhead.“unlessit’sme,”shesaidatlast,almostinawhisper.“menfalloutoflovewiththeirwives.”

“i’monlyanamateurpsychologist,mrs.wade.amaninmyrackethastobealittleofthat.i’dsayit’smorelikelyhehasfallenoutoflovewiththekindofstuffhewrites.”

“it’squitepossible,”shesaidquietly.“iimagineallwritershavespellslikethat.it’struethathecan’tseemtofinishabookheisworkingon.butitisn’tasifhehadtofinishitfortherentmoney.idon’tthinkthatisquiteenoughreason.”

“whatsortofguyishesober?”

shesmiled.“well,i’mratherprejudiced.ithinkheisaveryniceguyindeed.”

“andhowishedrunk?”

“horrible.brightandhardandcruel.hethinksheisbeingwittywhenheisonlybeingnasty.”

“youleftoutviolent.”

sheraisedhertawnyeyebrows.“justonce,mr.marlowe.andtoomuchhasbeenmadeofthat.i’dneverhavetoldhowardspencer.rogertoldhimhimself.”