Chapter 9
"Just a minute, Sergeant Guthrie!" the booming voice of Captain Marsh called from his office as Joe walked down the hall toward the decoding room.
"Yes sir," Joe replied, standing a little too rigid as he paused in the doorway.
"Come in and close the door," the officer ordered sternly, settling behind his desk, "I think we'd better have a little talk."
Joe forced a weak smile and complied, tightening up inside. Then ... all effort at hiding concern immediately vanished. MP Major John Burroughs, the tall, soldierly looking demon of the Army's CID in Berlin, was standing in the corner. The intrepid officer was known to go after unsolved rapes and murders in his current assignment, with all the fortitude that he had used in the initial landing parties he had led on Omaha Beach as a fledgling Lieutenant.
"So ... you've been playing house with Lieutenant Martha Anderson," Captain Marsh observed, "And the Major tells me you were safely tucked away there the other night when this German hotelkeeper was murdered by one of our GI's."
"Well, sir ... I," Joe fumbled miserably, shaking as he sat down, "I guess she told you about...."
Joe's near confession of the whole story, which he felt sure the irate nurse must have revealed, was fortunately stopped by the domineering Major.
"Of course we only have her word that you were there earlier." The tall, graying officer spoke with what seemed like accusatory doubt, "But the MP who checked her story saw you lurking behind her apartment door at three in the morning. That's true isn't it?"
"Can I ... have a cigarette, please sir ... sirs?" Joe was shaking uncontrollably.
Captain Marsh, his round and wrinkled face frowning seriously, pushed his pack across the desk without a word.
"Answer my question, Sergeant!" Burroughs roared, waving a report at Joe.
She went to the bar, hips swinging, and she must have made the drinks as soon as Mrs. Barth called. She was back almost at once with two long stemmed glasses. She handed him one and raised her in a salute.
"To Joe," she said gaily, and she looked like Joe was the furtherest thing from her mind. "Martinis were Joe's favorite drink."
Joe had never had a martini in his life. He had always been more of a straight shot man. He drank it quickly, disliking the sharp taste. It left a warm spot in his stomach, though, and that he did like.
"Did you know Joe well?" she asked.
She might have been discussing the weather.
"Fairly well," he said, and managed not to laugh. "We worked together once.
He named a town he had once worked in, and she nodded pleasantly. He was sitting on the couch, and she came to sit beside him. Much closer than was necessary.
"It was nice of you to come," she said softly.
The invitation in her eyes was unmistakable, and for a moment he considered it. Then he thought of Callie and told himself sternly to forget it.
"Well, it's the least I could do for Joe," he said.
"Must we talk about Joe?" she murmured.
"I supposed you would want to, Mrs. Smith," he couldn't resist saying. "After all, he was your husband."
She laughed softly. "Joe was a bum, Mr.-?"
"Call me Cal. You didn't love him?"
"No ... no, it isn't true!" Joe blurted, ready to tell all.
"Don't lie to me, Sergeant!" Burroughs became angry, stepping over to Marsh's desk and leaning across it to glower at Joe, "You were in that nurse's apartment at three o'clock in the morning! You were shacked up with her the entire evening! Answer me, soldier!"
Joe looked from Burroughs to Marsh. His head buzzed with bewildering dizziness. What did they want? Did they know? Hadn't Martha blown the whole thing?
"I ... I've been going nuts about this for ... for a long time sir ... sirs," Joe felt compelled to go through with his confession, not wanting them to play him along like this any longer, "I couldn't sleep ... couldn't do anything. I knew you'd find out ... eventually, but...."
The stern Major broke into a hearty laugh that really confused Joe's addled thoughts.
"Take it easy, Joe. It's not all that serious," Captain Marsh joined the inexplicable frivolity with a deep chuckle, "Nobody's going to crucify you for bedding down with a Nurse-Lieutenant in today's Army."
"Look, Sergeant," the Major spoke now, still smiling as he held the report between his fingers, "This whole thing goes no further. I'll tear it up and forget it. But for goodness sake use a little more common sense next time you want some brassbound tail. you. I'd say she's bearing up under her loss quite well. Not that I blame her much, I guess. All the no good bum ever did for her was to die and leave her some insurance money. I'm surprised he even did that."
"If you will just give me her address-"
He kept what he was feeling out of his voice. She looked miffed at having her gossip cut short, but she told him.
"Over on Linden street," she said grudgingly. "You can't miss it. A fancy new ranch style place. Joe must have left her quite a bit of insurance."
He thanked her and got out of there as quickly as he could. He had never liked Mrs. Barth and her sharp tongue. She couldn't resist one last parting shot.
"I'm sure she'll be real glad to see you," she called after him. "You're a man, ain't you?"
He didn't bother to answer. It confirmed what he had always suspected about Paula, if the old harpy was telling the truth. And she probably was. He had always figures that Paula had made good use of her time whenever he was gone, and it had never bothered him. He hadn't exactly been a model husband, so why should he lack about what she did?
As Mrs. Barth had predicted, he had no trouble finding Paula's house. He whistled inwardly when he saw it. It must have set Matt Landon back a lot of money.
He walked across the drive to the door and he didn't realize how tense he was until a small black cat scurried in front of him and he jumped her nervously. He fervently hoped it was not a bad omen. He took a deep breath and rang the bell.
Paula had changed. Her clothes were chic, and her figure was better. She had lost weight, and it became her. Her hair was smartly styled, her make-up subtly applied, and the general effect was rather enchanting. Only her smoky gray eyes were the same. They had the same come-hither look that had first attracted him to her. The attraction of an easy lay, he thought wryly.
"Mrs. Smith?" he asked, and there was no recognition in her eyes, either. He let out the breath he had been holding.
Paula smiled and held out her hand in a pretty gesture.
"You must be Joe's friend," she said sweetly. "Mrs. Barth called and told me you were on your way. Won't you come in?"
He took the hand she extended and felt himself drawn inside the house. It gave him the feeling of a fly being lured insistently into the spider's web. Trust old lady Barth to herald his arrival. He'd bet her phone would be tied up for quite a while, spreading the word.
"I really can't stay," he said rather uncomfortably. "As I told Mrs.-Barth, is it? I'm only passing through, but I thought I should stop and pay my respects."
"And I'm glad you did," she said smoothly. "I'm always glad to meet a friend of Joe's."
Well, he was nothing if not a friend of Joe's.
"Would you like a drink?" she asked, and didn't bother to wait for an answer.