“Thanks for the reassurance,” I said, “but somehow it takes more than words to take the taste out of my mind.”

“What did you expect the job would be like?” she asked.

“I don’t know as I expected,” I said.

“Weren’t you attracted to it because of the idea of romance and adventure?”

“I was attracted to it because of the possibility of getting two meals a day, and a place to sleep at night. I didn’t even know what kind of a job it was when I answered the ad—and I didn’t much care.”

She put her hand on my arm. “Don’t feel bitter, Don. After all, it isn’t as bad as you think. That Durke woman is the worst kind of a gold-digger. She doesn’t care a fig about Morgan. She is just playing him for what she can get out of him.”

“I know,” I said, “but I just don’t like the idea of being a heel. Not that I’m going to crab too much about it, I just didn’t like it. That was all.”

“But you did it?” she asked.

“I think I made a damn good job of it,” I said.

She laughed then, a laugh that had a catch in it. “You say the most unexpected things, Donald. I guess it’s the way you look at life. Tell me, what happened to you that leaves you so down on the world?”

“Good Lord! Do I create that sort of an impression?”

“In a way.”

“I’ll try to get over it.”

“But tell me, Don, isn’t it true?”

“I had a raw deal,” I said. “When you’ve worked for years to get somewhere, overcome all sorts of obstacles, and get what you want, only to have someone knock it out of your hands, you have some readjusting to do.”

“Was it a woman, Don?”

“No.”

“Do you want to tell me about it?”

“No.”

She sat looking meditatively through the windshield. Her fingers toyed with my coat sleeve.

“You were disappointed when you found I wasn’t a veteran detective,” I said.

“Was I?”

“Yes. Why?”

“Why, I didn’t know that I was.”

I turned so I could see her profile. “Was it,” I asked, “because someone had been trying to choke you, and you wanted my advice on protection?”

I saw her features twist with emotion, her eyes become startled, her hand involuntarily go to her throat as though to shut off my gaze.

I said, “Who tried to choke you, Alma?”

The lips quivered. Tears glistened in her eyes. Her fingertips dug into my arm. I put my arm around her and drew her to me. She laid her head against my shoulder and cried, deep sobbing that spoke of tortured nerves. I slid my left hand up around her neck, put the fingertips under the chin, moved the right hand up along her blouse.