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For an agonized split second I saw the twih headlights swooping down on me ... I screamed, tried to jump back and escape . . .
He jerked his head toward me in a half-nod and said, casually, in a take-it-for-granted manner, "Foley in?"
That's one of the nightmares of a new job. You never can tell whether the person with the make-myself-right-at-home attitude is a prize client or a salesman.
I kept my voice friendly. "Mr. Foley is at lunch."
"Oh, yeah," the man said, and jerked open the door to the private office.
I pushed back my chair and followed him in. "Mr. Foley," I said, "is not in." This time he didn't need to be a mind reader to know how I felt.
"How soon's he coming back?"
"I couldn't tell you. I'll take any message you wish to leave."
I didn't like the way he looked at me then, and thought perhaps I'd better explain, on the off-chance he might really be someone important. "I just started to work this morning, and I'm not fully familiar with Mr. Foley's habits or his clientele. He simply said he was going to lunch."
"It's ten minutes past one now; he ought to be back."
I let my silence soak in.
"What's your name?"
"Miss Bell."
"How long have you known Mr. Foley?"
"If you wish to wait," I said acidly, "there are chairs in the waiting room. This is Mr. Foley's private office."
The man casually pulled back the lapel of his coat, showing me a badge. "How long have you known Mr. Foley?"
"Since ten o'clock this morning."
"What do you know about Mildred Parker?"
"Nothing."
"You know who she is, don't you?"
I shook my head.
"She's the secretary who was working here."
"Mr. Foley said she had been injured in an automobile accident," I told him.
He perched himself on the edge of Mr. Foley's desk. "I'm investigating."
"If you don't mind, we'll step into the other office," I said. "I have to answer the telephone as well as do my typing. This is Mr. Foley's private office."
He didn't move. "What enemies did Mildred Parker have?"
"I'm sure I couldn't tell you anything about
Miss Parker. I've never seen her in my life. I didn't know her name until you mentioned it."
He lit a cigarette. "It's funny. Somebody went out of his way to sock her with a car. It was a hit-and-run job. According to witnesses, the guy who did it followed her for a couple of blocks. He cracked her just as she crossed an intersection, broke her leg . . . phony license plates."
"Will you please wait in Mr. Foley's reception room?" I asked.
He didn't move. I heard the click of a latchkey, and Mr. Foley opened the exit door to stand staring at us. "What's this?" he asked sharply.
"Evidently," I said, "this gentleman is an officer. He has ignored my requests to wait in the other room."
"You're Foley?" the man asked.
Mr. Foley nodded.
"Okay. I'm getting some dope on Mildred Parker. What do you know about her?"
"Nothing."
"Who were her enemies?"
"She had none as far as I know."
"How far did you know?"
(Continued on page 80)
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