chapter 3

card inside it with the name Mr Arthur Gwynn Geiger, Specialist

Bookseller, but no address. There were also three notes signed by Carmen Sternwood. Each promised to

pay Geiger $1,000.

`Any ideas?' the General asked.

`Not yet. Who is Arthur Gwynn Geiger?'

`I don't know.'

`What does Carmen say?'

`I haven't asked her. If I did, she would put her thumb in her mouth and giggle.'

I said, `I met her. She did that to me. Then she fell over on to me.'

The expression on his face did not change.

`Should I be polite?' I asked. `Or can I be honest?'

`I think you can decide for yourself, Mr Marlowe.'

`Do the girls spend a lot of time together?'

`I don't think so. Vivian is intelligent but cruel. Carmen is just a selfish child. Neither of them ever

worries about the difference between right and wrong. Neither do I.'

`Do they have any money of their own?'

`Vivian has a little. I am generous to them both.'

I drank some brandy. Then I said, `I can take Geiger off your back, General, if you want me to.' I

told him how much money I wanted for the job.

`I see,' he said. `That seems fair. Very well, Mr Marlowe. The problem is now in your hands.'

`I'll fix Mr Geiger,' I said. `He'll think a bridge fell on him.'

`I'm sure you will manage excellently. And now you must excuse me. I am tired.'

He touched a bell, stared at me once more, and closed his eyes.

I picked up my coat and went out of that hot greenhouse full of flowers. The cool air of the garden

smelled wonderful. The butler was coming towards me.

`Mrs Regan would like to see you, sir. And the General has told me to pay you what is necessary.'

`Told you how?'

He smiled. `You are, of course, a detective, sir. By the way he rang his bell.'

`Why does Mrs Regan want to see me?'

His blue eyes looked straight into mine.

`She misunderstands the reason for your visit, sir.'

`Who told her about my visit?'

`She saw you enter the greenhouse, sir. I had to tell her who you were.'

`I don't like that,' I said. `Take me to Mrs Regan's room.'

It was a big white room, too big, too white. Long windows looked out onto the dark hills. It was

going to rain soon.

I sat on the edge of a deep soft chair and looked at Mrs Regan. She was lovely. She was trouble.

She was lying in a chair with her shoes off, so I stared at her legs. They were long and beautiful. She

was tall and strong−looking, with black hair and the hot black Sternwood eyes.

She was drinking, and looked at me coolly over her glass.

`So you're a private detective,' she said. `I imagined an awful little man.'

I said nothing.

continued ~

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