Death of a Doxy (Crime Line)

The meal was served in the bedroom, with her in bed and me at a table the waiter brought in. She was in the same blue thing as the day before, which made me feel at home. Since Fritz never fries eggs, they made me feel away from home. We talked about Isabel, or rather she did. She had been trying to figure out a way to persuade her to give up the idea of getting married, and she thought she might possibly have made it. She explained that the reason there is no such thing as a good husband is that there is no such thing as a good wife and vice versa, and how are you going to get around that? We had got to the muffins and jam, and she was telling me how right Isabel had been to realize that she wasn't cut out for show business, when the phone rang, and she twisted around and reached for it.

The first thing she said was "Hello," and the second thing she said was "Yes, Mr. Fleming, this is Julie Jaquette," and I beat it to the other room and got at the phone, but I didn't hear much. He said, "Would two o'clock be all right?" and she said, "Half past two would be better," and he said, "All right, I'll be there," and that was it. As I re-entered the bedroom she asked if I had heard it, and I said yes and went to my table.

"I suppose," she said, "we'd better decide what charity I'll give it to. Or have you arranged that too?"

"That's not funny." I poured coffee. "I'm going to call you Julie."

"That's not funny either. Will he bring his own ashtray?"

"Sure. I assume he's coming here."

"Yes."

"I told you we couldn't arrange details until we see how he reacts. He certainly doesn't intend to come and have them phone up, and take the elevator, and walk in and do you, and walk out again."

"Then you can be in the closet. Or in here." She pushed the over-the-bed table away. "I'm going to dress up for this. My best. Take your coffee to the other room."

I obeyed. For a hotel the sitting room wasn't bad – dark green carpet and light green walls, with the regulation chairs and an oversized couch, and a big window that looked down on Central Park. After I finished the coffee I went to the window for a look out. It was Saturday, but also it was February, and there wasn't much stirring in the park. There was still some snow under the bare trees and along the top of the park wall, but you could call it white only because it wasn't black.