Chapter 14: The Black Car

I got into the car because there was no scrubber in it.

The air inside was leather and cologne and rain, and every smell in it was plain to me.

That was the point.

If Garrison Vane wanted to lie to me, I wanted to smell it happen.

"You're soaked," he said, and passed me a folded towel.

"What do you want, Mr. Vane?"

"To help." He turned his gold watch on his wrist.

"Dashiell has kept you in a glass box. Winifred will not stop, Miss Tarrant, and he cannot stop her without giving up something he won't give."

"You sent me her pages."

"I thought you should know what you were worth to him."

"To him," I said. "Not to her."

"Winifred is a sentimental woman. She would never hurt you."

It smelled like hot pennies.

I let him see me breathe in.

"I have a flat in Bellevue," said Vane. "A lawyer, a doctor, and a car. Nobody in Howling Bay would find you."

He smiled.

"All I ask is a little attention to Dashiell's paper. The safe on the sixtieth floor."

"You want what's in it."

"I want you protected."

Pennies again, and under them something sour.

"Mr. Vane," I said. "In the boardroom you tried to hand me an envelope. Today you want a safe."

I picked up the towel.

"If you've told me one true thing in this car, I couldn't find it."

His smile stayed where it was.

"You've picked up some of Dashiell's habits."

"No," I said. "I grew up in a pack. I just never had anyone to lie to me well."

I put the towel on the seat and got out.

He did not follow.

The window went up, and the car slid away from the curb.

Behind a pillar across the street, a grey sedan started its engine.

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