Confidentially Yours by Charles Williams Read Free Book Online

step aside in order to get around him or of bumping into him with the appearance of having done it deliberately. But jealous of him? Hah!
    You don’t think he was the only one, do you?
    I cursed. Damn that girl, anyway! I tried to push the telephone call out of my mind, but it kept coming back. And I still didn’t know why Frances had suddenly decided to come back from New Orleans. Did it have something to do with Roberts’ death? But how could she have known of it? She hadn’t received a phone call from here. No, I corrected myself; she merely hadn’t received any at the hotel. She hadn’t called me from there, had she?
    I wished I could find out who the girl was. It was almost certain that I knew her. I stared at the telephone, wishing it would ring, and at the same time wondering why I thought she’d bother to call again; she’d gotten rid of her accumulation of poison for the day and was probably rucked cozily in bed sleeping the sleep of the just. She must be a girl friend of Roberts’. I tried to remember any I’d seen him with, but came up with a blank. Being over 30 and married, I was completely out of touch with any crowd a single man Roberts’ age would be likely to run around with. I suddenly thought of Barbara Ryan; she might know. As I reached for the telephone, I looked at my watch and saw with surprise it was 1:15. It was a sad time of night to wake anybody up, but maybe she wouldn’t mind. She lived alone, in a small efficiency apartment about a block off Clebourne in the west end of town.
    “Warren,” I said when she answered. “I’m sorry to wake you.”
    “I wasn’t asleep,” she replied. “Just reading. And I’m glad you called. Is it really true, what they’re saying now, that Roberts was killed by somebody?”
    “There doesn’t seem to be much doubt of it,” I replied, and told her about the different sized shot.
    “That’s what I heard, but I just couldn’t believe it. Who do they think did it?”
    “No idea so far. But here’s what I wanted to ask you—would you know anything about Roberts’ girl friends?”
    She appeared to hesitate. Then she said guardedly, “Well, I’m no authority on the subject. Just what do you mean, Duke?”
    “What girls he dated.”
    “Oh. Well, me for one. I’ve been out with him two or three times,”
    That was news to me. “What kind of guy was he?”
    “Pleasant enough, good dancer, a little on the too-smooth side. He gave me the impression he took pretty good care of Dan Roberts.”
    “What do you know about any other girls?”
    “Not much. I’ve-seen him with one or two others at various times.”
    “Do you remember any of them?”
    “Hmmm…Nadine Wilder…Midge Carson...I can’t think of any others at the moment. Why?”
    “I had a weird telephone call from a girl who wouldn’t give her name, and I had a hunch she knew him pretty well.”
    “I see.” There was that barely perceptible pause again, and then she added cynically, “Well,” she could, quite fast, if she didn’t watch her step.”
    “A wolf, then?”
    “Operator is the word. Oh—about the two I named— if that telephone call was the usual sort people don’t sign their names to, I doubt it was either of them. They’re both pretty good kids. Nadine works for the power company—”
    “And the Carson girl for Dr. Wyman,” I said. “I know them both, and I don’t think it was either. But if you remember any others, would you call me?”
    “Sure thing. And if there’s anything else I can do, just let me know.”
    “Thanks a lot.” I hung up, and stood there for a moment wondering how many other people had heard rumors about Frances and Roberts. Those pauses hadn’t been hard to read; she had a good idea what that girl had told me and was afraid of being backed into a position where she’d have to lie about it or confirm she’d heard the same thing.
    My head was throbbing again. I went down the hallway to get some aspirin from the medicine chest