Old Sinners Never Die (The Mrs. Norris Mysteries Book 3) by Davis Dorothy Salisbury

Author:Davis, Dorothy Salisbury [Davis, Dorothy Salisbury]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
ISBN: 9781480460393
Publisher: Open Road Media
Published: 2014-02-04T05:00:00+00:00

18

THE GENERAL SPLASHED COLD water on his face and then rubbed his neck with his cold, wet hands. Finally he stuck his head under the kitchen tap. Groping for a towel, he knocked the telephone off its wall cradle.

Thus did it come to his attention. He replaced it and began to wonder if the monotone which he had thought in his stupor to be Virginia singing had not been Virginia on the telephone. The General looked at his watch. It was after two o’clock. Someone must think a very neat plan to be going according to schedule. And wasn’t it? The fact that he was conscious instead of unconscious at the moment was small impediment. He had been virtually kidnapped: he was not at all sure, however, that he would like to try to prove it, especially before the court of public opinion where everything seemed to be first tried these days.

But to what purpose was he brought here?

The General was not without resources of his own. He took the phone from the hook. “Let me have the supervisor please.”

A few seconds later he said, “I’ve been trying to put a call through to Washington. I expected the operator to call me back. I wonder if you would be so kind as to check.”

“One moment please.”

“Right.” The General was an old hand at putting just the right tenor in his voice to carry authority.

The operator came on again. “That call was completed, sir.”

“Oh?” The General was all apologies. “My wife must have put it through,” he improvised with magnificent aplomb. “Have you the number there?”

“Yes, sir,” she said, and repeated the number.

“Ah-ha. That’s it. I’m sorry to have bothered you.” He hung up and waited a long moment. He then called the Washington number.

The moment the receiver was lifted from the hook at the other end, the General knew somebody was having one hell of a party, he felt much relieved.

“Hello out there,” a man shouted into the phone at him.

“Who’s speaking?” the General demanded.

“Dempsey of the Post-Citizen. Who do you want?”

A newspaperman. The reassurance vanished. But the General hesitated only a second. “Listen, Dempsey, I’ve got a devil of a story for you … Where are you now?”

“The Sentimental Club … Club Sentimentale. Excuse me, honey child.”

“What’s going on there?” The General tried again.

“Who the hell are you?” the reporter came back at him.

Ever so gently, General Jarvis broke the connection.

So, he thought, whatever the game was, Virginia Allan was playing it with her boss, her boyfriend. What was it? Conspiracy? Blackmail? She did think he had money, foolish girl. But the truth was, he had not done anything so far that could not have stood photography. And to the best of his knowledge he had not even said anything that the Army Chief of Staff could not have tapped in on. It seemed like nothing more than a scheme to keep him out of circulation for a few hours. He was probably going to find out that somebody

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