The Mike Hammer Collection - Mickey Spillane [91]
I grinned crookedly. “My name is Hammer. I’m looking for Mr. Torrence.”
“Is he expecting you?”
“No, but I think he’ll see me. It’s about his daughter.”
The eyes sparked again with some peculiar fear. “Is she . . . all right?”
“Fine.”
Then relief took over and she held out her hand to me. “Please come in, Mr. Hammer. I’m Geraldine King, Mr. Torrence’s secretary. He’s going to be awfully glad to see you. Since Sue ran off again he’s been so upset he can’t do a thing.”
“Again?”
She glanced up at me and nodded. “She’s gone off several times before. If she only knew what she does to Mr. Torrence when she gets in one of her peeves she’d be more considerate. In here, Mr. Hammer.” She pointed into a large study that smelled of cigars and old leather. “Make yourself at home, please.”
There wasn’t much time for that. Before I had a chance to make a circuit of the room I heard the sound of hurried feet and Big Sim Torrence, the Man-Most-Likely-To-Succeed, came in looking not at all like a politician, but with the genuine worry of any distraught father.
He held out his hand, grabbed mine, and said, “Thanks for coming, Mr. Hammer.” He paused, offered me a chair, and sat down. “Now, where is Sue? Is she all right?”
“Sure. Right now she’s with a friend of mine.”
“Where, Mr. Hammer?”
“In the city.”
He perched on the edge of the chair and frowned. “She . . . does intend to come back here?”
“Maybe.”
His face hardened then. It was a face that had an expression I had seen a thousand times in courtrooms. It became a prosecuting attorney’s face who suddenly found himself with a hostile witness and was determined to drag out the right answers the hard way.
Torrence said, “Perhaps I don’t understand your concern in this matter.”
“Perhaps not. First, let me tell you that it’s by accident that I’m here at all. Sue was sort of taken in hand by my secretary and I made a promise to look into things before letting her return.”
“Oh?” He looked down into his hands. “You are . . . qualified for this matter then?”
The wallet worked its magic again and the hostility faded from his face. His expression was serious, yet touched with impatience. “Then please get to the point, Mr. Hammer. I’ve worried enough about Sue so . . .”
“It’s simple enough. The kid says she’s scared stiff of you.”
A look of pain flitted across his eyes. He held up his hand to stop me, nodded, and looked toward the window. “I know, I know. She says I killed her mother.”
He caught me a little off base. When he looked around once more I said, “That’s right.”
“May I explain something?”
“I wish somebody would.”
Torrence settled back in his chair, rubbing his face with one hand. His voice was flat, as though he had gone through the routine countless times before. “I married Sally Devon six months after her husband died. Sue was less than a year old at the time. I had known Sally for years then and it was like . . . well, we were old friends. What I didn’t know was that Sally had become an alcoholic. In the first years of our marriage she grew worse in spite of everything we tried to do. Sally took to staying at my place in the Catskills with an old lady for a housekeeper, refusing to come into the city, refusing any help . . . just drinking herself to death. She kept Sue with her although it was old Mrs. Lee who really took care of the child. One night she drank herself into a stupor, went outside into the bitter cold for something, and passed out. She was unconscious when Mrs. Lee found her and dead before either a doctor or I could get to her. For some reason the child thinks I had something to do with it.”
“She says her mother told her something before she died.”
“I know that too. She can’t recall anything, but continues to make the charge against me.” He paused and rubbed his temples. “Sue has been a problem. I’ve tried the best schools and let her follow her own desires but