“What inspired you to use Miss Alving’s name to get in to Mrs. Whitten?” he demanded.
“Hell, I had to use something. Knowing how women are apt to feel about their husbands’ former sweethearts, I thought that was as good as anything and probably better.”
“Was that all?”
“Yep. Why, did I spill salt?”
“No. On the contrary. Do you know where Miss Alving can be found?”
I nodded. “She’s the toy buyer at Meadow’s. But you certainly have changed the subject. What about that Grade A lie, do we want it at the price? Phoebe will be after me as soon as she gets through breakfast.”
“We’ll see. That can wait. How do you know it’s a lie? Come in the potting room where we can sit down. I have some instructions.”
IX
Never to find yourself in a situation where you have to enter a big department store is one of the minor reasons for not getting married. I guess it would also be a reason for not being a detective. Anyway, Meadow’s is unquestionably a big department store, and that Thursday morning I had to enter it in the practice of my profession. The toy department is on the fourth floor, I suppose to give the kids more fun on the escalators. By the time I got there the sweat on my back was starting to freeze in the conditioned air, and I had to resist an impulse to go up another flight and buy a topcoat.
The salesperson I approached said she thought Miss Alving was busy and would I wait. I found an empty chair over by the scooters. I thought contact with the chair’s back might melt the ice on mine, but it was plastic, so I sat straight. After a while a woman came hurrying to me, and I arose.