“Any one of Al Omega’s band,” Jake said, “or any one of Ramon Arriba’s band, or any one of the twelve chorus girls, or Angela Doll, or Allswell McJackson, or any one of the stage hands, electricians, waiters, bartenders, and kitchen help, or any member of the audience who might have strayed backstage.”
“Or Ruth Rawlson,” Malone added, looking toward the door that led backstage.
Helene said, “Now that we’ve limited the suspects so brilliantly!”
Jake’s eyes narrowed momentarily. “None of this is any of our business. We’ve gone and fixed it so that probably no one will ever know who murdered the midget. Now, let’s not talk about it.”
Malone was silent, watching the tottering figure of Ruth Rawlson as it moved toward their table. Save that she had unfastened her high-heeled sandals, leaving the straps dangling, the ex-beauty looked, at first glance, exactly as she had earlier in the evening. As she came closer to the table, however, the lawyer noticed that she was a shade more pale, and several degrees unsteadier. He rose hastily and pulled out a chair for her.
She slid into it, beaming, and braced her elbows on the table. “Thank you so much, darling. Yes, I will have one drink. Just an itsy-bittsy one, though. Ruthie does have to get home early and get her sleep.” She opened her still lovely eyes to their full width and turned them on Malone. “You’ve no idea, really, what a responsibility it is to be a professional beauty. Early to bed—diet—plenty of exercise—” She rolled her eyes skyward with a martyred expression. “Just one little teensy-weensy drink, remember.” She picked up Jake’s glass and began sipping from it while waiting for her own to arrive.
“I’m sure,” Malone said, with perfect composure, “your beauty is worth all the care you have to take of it.”
Helene flashed him a grateful look across the table, turned to Ruth Rawlson, and said innocently, “Been backstage?”
Ruth set down Jake’s glass, picked up her own, and nodded. “I’ve just come from the loveliest long chat with Angela Doll. You wouldn’t believe it, but I knew her mother. We were in the Follies together. Of course Angela is very young—it really wasn’t so long ago.” She sighed noisily. “Those dear, dead days! Sometimes, you know, sometimes I think I’ll go back to them after all. But I do enjoy private life so much.” She finished her glass, yawned, and closed her eyes. Malone had a sudden horrible notion that in another moment she would begin to snore.
Jake rose. “Get your wrap, Ruth,” he said gently. “I’ll buy you a taxi home.”
She opened her eyes again, smiled at him, and let him help her to her feet. “Been so nice meeting you,” she said to Malone. “Must meet again sometime.”
Jake aimed her toward the checkroom, and turned back to whisper, “I think by the time I get back it’ll be safe to leave. And stop worrying.” His face looked very tired, and a trifle pale.
“Damn Jake,” Helene said affectionately, after he was gone.
“I know what you mean,” Malone said, nodding. “But he’s got to make a success of the Casino.”
“While I’d be just as happy married to a press agent,” she told him gravely. “Malone, let this be a lesson to you. Never marry a woman with money.”
“Hell,” the lawyer growled, “I’ve never even been able to meet a woman with money.” He gazed thoughtfully into his cigar smoke. “Did I hear her say she’d just come from a long chat with Angela Doll?” As Helene nodded, he went on, “But that Man Mountain the Second said he’d taken her home right after he left the stage.”
“You don’t understand Ruth Rawlson,” Helene said. “She just happened to pick on Angela Doll. She’d have made it Queen Victoria if she’d happened to think of her first.”
Malone blinked. “I can see she’s a souse,” he said, “but the insanity doesn’t show.”
“Ruth is sane,” Helene said. “She just lies by some kind of instinct, I think. It comes natural to her. If she’s been shopping in Marshall Field’s, and you ask her where she’s been, she says she’s just come from Mandel Brothers. Or if she went to the movies the night before, she’ll tell you she was home reading the most fascinating book. The chances are this time she was back chinning with the chorus girls while they dressed.”
“I’d love to be able to use Ruth on the witness stand sometime,” Malone said.
“Ruth,” Helene said gravely, “is stranger than fiction.”
The little lawyer pretended not to have heard. “She couldn’t have strayed into the midget’s dressing room and murdered him, could she?”
“She could,” Helene said, “but she wouldn’t have done it that way. Malone, who did murder him?”
“I’ve mislaid my tea leaves at the moment,” the little lawyer said gloomily. He was silent a minute, lost in thought. “The hell of it is, I have a hunch I’ll never be able to find them, now.”
The late crowd had begun to thin out by the time Jake returned. Betty Royal and her admirers had paused to speak to Helene and then gone home; the Goldsmiths had departed, not looking at or speaking to each other; the tables were emptying fast. Al Omega’s musicians were beginning to cast hopeful glances at their watches.
“Ruth must be losing her grip,” Jake announced, sitting and lighting a cigarette. “Usually she puts away enough cheap whiskey to kill a horse, and keeps right on navigating. Tonight when I put her into the cab, she was practically paralyzed. I told the driver to see her all the way in her door.”
“It isn’t every night one of her friends opens a night club,” Helene reminded him.
“Or closes one,” Jake said wearily. He blew out his match and stared at its charred end. “Let’s go back and take the midget out of his fiddle case, and call the cops.”
Helene stared at him. “Have you lost your mind?”
“I’m just getting it back,” Jake said. A thin line had appeared in his forehead, between his eyebrows. “I don’t mind breaking the law—or anyway, bending it a little—in a good cause, but murder is murder.”
Malone drew a long breath. “I thought you didn’t like the little guy.”
“I didn’t,” Jake said, “I detested him. And the cops will probably close up this joint for a week while they horse around trying to find out who killed him, and in the meantime Max Hook will want his dough back and decide to take the Casino instead. And I’ll end up with a job press-agenting an ice-skating troupe.”
“Never mind,” Helene said, “I adore traveling.”
He leaned across the table and kissed her.
“Damn it,” Malone said crossly, “never cross your bridges until the horse is stolen. Remember, things never seem as bad as they are. I can stall off Max Hook, and in the meantime, maybe I can find out who killed your midget. What’s more,” he added, “I’ll bet you even money I can have your joint open for business by tomorrow night. I don’t have three guys in the sheriff’s office owing me money for nothing.”
“Hooray for Malone!” Helene said enthusiastically.
Jake grinned. “As I’ve said before, what the hell do I have a lawyer for? Let’s go.”
He led the way back to the dressing room. The backstage of the Casino was deserted now, no light showed under the doors of the dressing room, save under the one