The Lady in the Lake

About ten feet below the water I saw something yellow. Something
long and yellow. It moved slowly through the water. A woman's
hair.

Derace Kingsley's wife went away some weeks ago — and

didn't come back. N o w Philip Marlowe, a Los Angeles
detective, must find her. Is she dead? Did a lover kill her? Is
she the lady in the lake? Or is she a killer?
Marlowe must find answers - and quickly. Because there is
a killer in Los Angeles, and the killer is working fast. . .

R a y m o n d Chandler is perhaps the most famous of all

American detective writers. He was born in Chicago, Illinois,
in the north of the United States, in 1888. When he was nine,
his mother took him to England. He went to school there and
later worked on British newspapers. He went back to America
in 1912, then, from 1917, he fought in the First World W a r
(1914-18) with the Canadians.
In 1919, he went back to the United States and worked in
many different jobs before he started to write. This happened
when he lost a very important j o b in 1932, when he was
forty-four. He sold his first story, a detective story, in 1933.
His first book. The Big Sleep (1939), was about his famous
detective, Philip Marlowe, and Marlowe is in all the books
he wrote after that. Many people still think The Big Sleep,
Farewell, My Lovely, (1940), The Lady in the Lake (1944), The
Little Sister (1949) and The Long Goodbye (1953) are some of
the best of all American detective stories.
After his wife died, in 1954, Chandler was very unhappy
and drank a lot. He died in 1959.
The Lady in the Lake

R A Y M O N D CHANDLER
Level 2

Retold by Jennifer Bassett

Series Editor: Derek Strange

PENGUIN BOOKS
 CHAPTER ONE

The man in front of me was tall and strong, with thick dark
hair. He sat in an expensive chair behind an expensive desk,
and looked at me with cold grey eyes. He didn't have time to
smile.
' O K , Marlowe,' he said. 'So you're a private detective.
O n e of the best in Los Angeles, I hear. I have a j o b for you. I
want you to find my wife. Think you can do that?'
I sat back in my chair and lit a cigarette slowly.
'Yes, Mr Kingsley,' I said. 'I think I can do that.'
' H o w much?'
'Twenty-five dollars a day. Half a dollar a mile for my car.
And a hundred in my hand now, before I do anything.'
He looked at me, and I looked back at him and waited.
Then he smiled. ' O K , Marlowe, you've got the j o b . But
don't talk about it to the police. I have an important j o b
here.' He looked round his quiet, expensive office. The hot
July sun didn't get into this room. 'I want to stay in this j o b ,
and I can't have any trouble with the police.'
'Is your wife in trouble?' I asked.
'I don't know. Perhaps. She sometimes does very stupid
things, and she has dangerous friends.'
He gave me a drink and told me the story. 'I have a house
in the mountains, near Puma Point. Crystal went up there in
May. She often meets her men friends up there.' He looked at
me. 'She has a lot of men friends . . . you understand? But
there was an important dinner down here on June 12th, and
Crystal didn't come back for it.'
'So what did you do?'
'Nothing. Because of this.' He gave me a letter and I read
it.

5
 El Paso, 14th June
I'm leaving you and going to Mexico. I'm going to marry
Chris Lavery.
Good luck and goodbye. Crystal.

'I wasn't very unhappy about that, Kingsley said. 'She can
have him, and he can have her. Then two weeks later I heard
from the Prescott Hotel in San Bernardino. Crystal's car was
there and they wanted money for it. But yesterday I met
Lavery, here in town. He didn't know anything about Crystal,
and he last saw her two months ago. So where is she? What
happened to her?'
I thought about it for a minute or two, and then I asked
him some questions. We talked for about half an hour.
Kingsley gave me a photo of his wife with Chris Lavery - it
was a good picture of Lavery, but not very good of the lady.
I finished my drink and stood up. ' O K , Mr Kingsley, I'm
going to talk to Lavery, and then go up to your house in the
mountains.'
'My house is at Little Fawn Lake,' he told me. 'A man
works for me up there - Bill Chess is his name. And the girl
at the telephone desk outside can help you. She knows a lot
of my wife's friends. Talk to her. And you can phone me any
time — day or night.'
Outside Kingsley's office I looked at the girl at the tele-
phone desk. She was small and pretty, with short red hair
and blue eyes. I like redheads. I gave her my best smile.
'Hi, blue eyes,' I said. 'Your boss says you know a lot of
people. Tell me about Chris Lavery.'
'Chris Lavery? What do you want to know?'
'Anything. Do you like him?'
'Well,' she said, 'he has a beautiful body.'
'And all the girls like a man with a beautiful body, eh?'

6
I started with Lavery. He didn't want to talk to me, but nobody wants to
talk to private detectives.

She laughed. 'Perhaps. But I know nicer men than Chris

Lavery. He knows too many women.'
We talked for about ten minutes. Kingsley was right.
Redhead knew a lot of people and she liked talking. Perhaps
her j o b wasn't very interesting. I sat on her desk and listened,
and smiled into her blue eyes. She smiled back.
Then I stood up. 'Well, I must go. See you again, blue
eyes.'
Redhead laughed happily. 'Any time, Mr Marlowe.'
• • • •
I started with Lavery. He was at home, at 623 Altair Street,
down in Bay City. He didn't want to talk to me, but nobody
wants to talk to private detectives.
' N o , ' he told me angrily. '1 didn't go to El Paso with
Crystal Kingsley. OK, so we sleep together. But I don't want
to marry her. She's very rich, and money is nice, but Crystal's
a difficult lady, I last saw her about two months ago.'
I sat and watched him. 'So why did she write that letter
from El Paso?'
'Don't know. She likes playing games — stupid games.'
It wasn't a very good story, and he knew it. I asked him
some more questions, but his story stayed the same. I went
out and sat in my car outside his house. I thought about
Lavery. Perhaps he went away with Mrs Kingsley, and then
they had a fight. But where did Mrs Kingsley go after that?
A big black Cadillac drove up and stopped at the house
across the street. A thin man with a black doctor's bag got
out and went into the house. I looked at the name on the
door — Dr Albert S. Almore. Doctors k n o w a lot about
people. Perhaps this one knew Lavery. I saw Dr Almore at
the window. He watched me carefully, and his face was
angry and afraid. Then he sat d o w n and made a telephone
call, but he watched me all the time.
Five minutes later a green car came along and stopped at
the doctor's house. The driver walked across the road to my
car.
'Waiting for somebody?' he asked.
'I don't know,' I said. ' A m I?'
'Don't get clever with m e , ' he said coldly. 'I'm Detective
Degarmo, Bay City Police. W h y are you watching Dr
Almore's house?'
I looked out of my car window at him. He was a big man
with a square face and very blue eyes.
'What's all this about?' I asked. 'I don't k n o w Dr Almore,
and I'm not interested in him. I'm visiting a friend. What's
the doctor afraid o f ? '
'I ask the questions, not you,' he said. 'Go on - get out of here.
Move!' He walked away and went into Dr Almore's house.

8
 Back in Los Angeles, I phoned Mr Kingsley and asked him
about Dr Albert S. Almore.
'I don't know him, but he was Crystal's doctor for a time,'
he told me. 'His wife died a year and a half ago - she killed
herself. It was very sad.'
I got into my car again and started for the mountains. Dr
Almore was afraid of something, but what?

CHAPTER TWO

I drove through the hot afternoon to San Bernardino, then

up into the mountains. Past the village of Puma Point I took
the road up to Little Fawn Lake. The road was slow and
difficult through the mountains, and soon there were no
more houses or people.
When I got to the lake, I stopped at the nearest house and
got out. A man came out and walked across to me. He was a
heavy man, not very tall, and he had a hard, city face.
'Bill Chess?' I asked.
'That's me.'
'I want to look at Mr Kingsley's house,' I said. 'I have a
letter for you from him.'
He read the letter carefully, and then I asked him some
questions about the house. He was happy to talk to me.
'I don't see many people up here,' he said. He looked at the
blue sky and the mountains, and his eyes were sad. 'No
friends. No wife. Nothing.'
I got a bottle of whisky from my car, and we sat together
in the evening sun and drank. I'm a good listener.
'No wife,' Bill Chess said again. He looked into his glass of
whisky. 'She left me. She left me a month ago. The 12th of
June.'

10
 I gave him some more whisky and sat quietly. June 12th -
the day when Mrs Kingsley didn't go back to Los Angeles for
the dinner.
'Tell me about it,' I said quietly.
He drank his whisky quickly. It was not his first drink that
day. 'I met Muriel a year and three months ago,' he said
slowly. 'We married three weeks later. I loved her a lot, but
. . . well, I was stupid. Here I am - I've got a good job, a
pretty little wife, so what do I do?' He looked across the lake
at the Kingsleys' house. 'I get into bed with that Kingsley cat
over there. OK, she's as pretty as Muriel - the same long
yellow hair, same eyes, same nice little body - but she's
nothing to me. But Muriel knows all about it. So we had a
fight, and that night she left me. I went out, and when I got
home, there was a letter on the table. "Goodbye, Bill," she
says, "I don't want to live with you after this."
He finished his whisky. 'I didn't see the Kingsley woman
again. She went down the mountain that same night. And
not a word from Muriel now for a month.' He turned and
looked at me. 'It's an old story,' he said, 'but thanks for listen-
ing.'
I put the whisky bottle back in the car, and together we
walked round the lake to the Kingsleys' house. I looked
round the house, but there was nothing interesting for me
there.
'Perhaps Mrs Kingsley went away with your wife,' I said
to Bill Chess.
He thought about it for a minute. ' N o , ' he said. 'Muriel
never liked that Kingsley cat.'
We walked on round the lake. There were only two other
houses and there was nobody in them. It was quiet and clean and
beautiful by that lake, away from the hot, dirty city. We stopped
by an old boat and looked down into the water at the fish.

12
 Suddenly Bill Chess caught my arm. 'Look!' he said. 'Look
down there!' His hand was heavy on my arm, and his face
was white.
I looked, and about ten feet below the water I saw some-
thing yellow. Something long and yellow. It moved slowly
through the water. A woman's hair.
I started to say something, but Bill Chess jumped into the lake
and swam down under the water. He pulled and pushed, and
quickly came up again through the water. The body followed
him slowly. A body in red trousers and a black jacket. A body
with a grey-white face, without eyes, without mouth, just long
yellow hair. It was not a pretty thing - after a month in the water.
'Muriell' said Bill Chess. Suddenly he was an old, old man.
He sat there by the lake with his head in his hands. 'It's
Muriel!' he said, again and again.
• • • •
Down in Puma Point village, the police station was just a
one-room little house. The name on the door said, 'JIM
P A T T O N - P O L I C E ' . I went in.
Jim Patton was a big slow man, with a big round face and
a big slow smile. He spoke slowly and he thought slowly, but
his eyes weren't stupid. I liked everything about him.
I lit a cigarette and told him about the dead woman in
Little Fawn Lake.
'Bill Chess's wife - Muriel,' I said. 'She and Bill had a fight
a month ago, then she left him. She wrote him a letter - a
goodbye letter, or a suicide letter.' I don't know.'
Jim Patton looked at me. 'OK,' he said slowly. 'Let's go
and talk to Bill. And who arc you, son?'
'Marlowe. I'm a private detective from LA. I'm working
for Mr Kingsley. He wants me to find his wife.'
We drove up to the lake with the doctor and the police
boys in the back of the car.

13
 Bill Chess was a very unhappy man. 'You think that I
m u r d e r e d Muriel?' he said angrily to Patton.
'Perhaps you did, and perhaps you didn't,' said Patton
sadly. 'But I must take you d o w n to the police station, Bill.
There's going to be a lot of questions.'

CHAPTER T H R E E

I had dinner at the hotel in Puma Point. When I finished, a

girl came up to my table. I didn't k n o w her.
She smiled at me. 'Can I sit with you for a minute, Mr
Marlowe?' she asked.
I got out my cigarettes. ' W o r d gets round fast in small
villages,' I said. 'What do you want to talk about?'
She smiled again. 'About Bill Chess. Do you think he
murdered Muriel?'
'I don't know. Perhaps. But I'm not interested in Bill or
Muriel Chess.'
' N o ? ' T h e girl put out her cigarette. 'Listen to this, then.
There was a Los Angeles policeman - De Soto - up here
about six weeks ago. Big man with a square face. Said he
wanted to find a w o m a n with the name Mildred Haviland.
He had a photograph with him. We thought the photo was
Muriel Chess. O K , the hair was red-brown, but a w o m a n can
easily change the colour of her hair. Nobody here liked this
De Soto, so we didn't tell him anything. What do you think
about that?'
I lit another cigarette. 'But I don't k n o w a Mildred Havi-
land. And I never heard of Muriel Chess before today.'
'Bill Chess isn't a bad man,' she said quietly. 'We like him,
and we don't think he's a murderer.'
W h e n she left, I found a telephone and called Derace

15
And in the tin of sugar I found a watch with some words on the back of it:
'Al to Mildred. With all my love.'

Kingsley. His answers to my questions didn't help. N o , he

didn't k n o w Muriel Chess very well. Yes, his wife was
friendly with Muriel. N o , he didn't k n o w a w o m a n called
Mildred Haviland.
It was dark when I got back to Bill Chess's house by Little
Fawn Lake. I went in quietly through a back window, and
looked round the house very carefully. W h y was I interested
in Bill Chess's wife? I didn't know, but she knew Mrs
Kingsley, she lived in the same place, and she 'went away' on
the same day. Perhaps that was important, and perhaps it
wasn't.
In the kitchen I looked in all the cupboards and through
the tins of food. And in the tin of sugar I found a small, very
pretty watch inside some paper. On the back of the watch
there were some words: Al to Mildred. With all my love.

16
 Al to Mildred. Al somebody to Mildred Haviland. Mildred
Haviland was Muriel Chess. Muriel Chess was dead — two
weeks after a policeman called De Soto came to Puma Point
with her photograph. I stood there and thought about it. Mrs
Kingsley didn't come in to this story.
I drove back d o w n to Puma Point and went in to Jim
Patton's office. I put the little watch on his desk.
'I looked round Bill Chess's house,' I said, 'and I found this
in a tin of sugar.'
Jim Patton looked at me sadly. 'Are you going to give me
trouble, son? I looked round the house and didn't find any-
thing. But your eyes are younger than mine.' He looked
carefully at the little watch. 'So what do you think about
this?' he asked me.
'I don't think Bill Chess murdered his wife. I don't think
he knew she had another name. But somebody from her past
looked for her and found her. W i t h a new name and a new
husband. He didn't like that, and so he murdered her.'
Jim Patton thought about it. ' M m m , ' he said slowly. 'I like
it. T h e story begins well, but h o w does it finish?'
'Ask me tomorrow,' I said.
Jim Patton laughed. 'You city detectives are too fast for us
slow mountain people. Goodnight, son.'
• • • •
At about eleven that night I drove into San Bernardino and
found the Prescott Hotel. The garage boy was happy to talk
to me - when he had some of my dollars in his dirty hand.
He looked at the photo of Crystal Kingsley and Chris Lavery.
'Yeah, I remember the man,' he said. 'He came up to the
woman at the hotel desk. But this photo's not very good of
the woman. A w o m a n with the name Mrs Kingsley left her
car here on the evening of June the 12th, and took a taxi to
the station that night, with the man. She wore a black-and-

17
white dress, with a black-and-white hat, and she was small
and pretty with long yellow hair. Perhaps she was the woman
in this photo, but I don't know.'
I thanked him and gave him two more dollars for luck.
It was too hot in San Bernardino, so I got back in my car
and drove home to Hollywood. I got in at a quarter to three
in the morning. I had a bath, went to bed and slept well.

C H A P T E R FOUR

In the morning I drank a lot of black coffee and made some

phone calls. A good friend of mine worked in the city police
offices. There was no detective with the name of De Soto in
the city of Los Angeles, he told me- I phoned Kingsley's
office, said hello to Redhead, and then told Kingsley about
Lavery and the Prescott Hotel.
'What are you going to do now?' he asked me.
'Go and talk to Lavery again,' I said. 'He met your wife in
San Bernardino on June 12th, so I want a better story from
him today.'
I drove down to Bay City and stopped the car up the street
from Lavery's house. I smoked a cigarette and thought about
Lavery. Then I saw a woman at Lavery's front door. She
came out, closed the door quietly behind her and walked
away down the street. She wore dark glasses, a brown coat
and a light-blue hat. I didn't see her face, but her hair was
dark brown and she had very nice legs. I like legs. I watched
them all down the street.
Lavery's front door was shut, but I gave it a little push
with my finger, and it opened. I went in and called his name,
but there was no answer. I walked round the house and had a
look in his bedroom. There was a very big bed in there, but
Lavery wasn't in it. I looked into some of the cupboards -
shoes, jackets, shirts, trousers . . . and a woman's dress. An
expensive black-and-white dress, with a nice little black-and-
white hat. I closed the cupboard quietly, and opened another
door at the back of the room. Inside was a bathroom, and
Lavery was at home.
He was in the bath, and he was very, very dead. There was
a gun on the floor - a small, pretty lady's gun, but it can kill
as well as any other gun. I looked round the bathroom. There
wasn't a fight - Lavery knew his killer. She opened the door,
came in and shot him three or four times. Not Lavery's
lucky day.
I took the little gun with me and went out to my car. The
street was quiet and sunny, no police cars, no policemen.
Only Marlowe, finding another dead body. Murder-a-day
Marlowe, they call him. I got into my car and drove away
from there fast.
• • • •
In his quiet, expensive office Derace Kingsley listened to me
with a white face.
'Did your wife have a gun?' I asked.
'Yes.'
'Is this it?' I showed him the gun from the floor in Lavery's
bathroom.
He looked at it, and then at me. 'I don't know. Perhaps.
But Crystal isn't a murderer - she didn't kill Lavery!'
'Why not? The police are going to think she did. She was
with Lavery in San Bernardino. They didn't go to Mexico.
Then perhaps one day she sees him with another woman. So
she gets angry, and goes round to his house. She leaves the gun
on the floor, her dress in the cupboard . . . The police are going
to love it.' I stood up and looked down at him. 'I must take the
gun back now and call the police. I can't cover up a murder.'

20
 Kingsley said nothing and put his head in his hands. Then
he looked up at me. 'Listen, Marlowe,' he said quietly.
'You're working for me, right? I know Crystal didn't kill
Lavery! What about that woman in the blue hat? Who was
she? Lavery knew a lot of women. Go and find the murderer.
Show the police that Crystal didn't kill Lavery. Do that, and
there's five hundred dollars for you. 1
'OK, Mr Kingsley,' I said. 'But the job gets more difficult
every day.'
When I went out, the redhead at the telephone desk called
to me. 'Mr Marlowe,' she said quickly, 'yesterday you wanted
to know about Dr Almore. Mr Kingsley told me. Well, I
talked to some friends last night.'
I went over and sat on her desk. 'OK, blue eyes, tell me.'
'Some rich women drink a lot, and take drugs. They think
it's exciting,' she began. 'Sometimes they take too much and
get ill. Well, people say that Dr Almore helps these women.
He gives them different drugs, they get better . . . and Dr
Almore gets a lot of money. Florence Almore, his wife, took
drugs, too. She wasn't a very nice woman. One night, a year
and a half ago, she came home ill. Dr Almore's office nurse
put her to bed, but later that night Mrs Almore walked down
to the garage. Chris Lavery found the body. When he came
home, he heard the sound of a car in the Almores' garage. He
opened the door and found her dead on the floor. Dr Almore
was out. The police say it was suicide. But some people say it
was murder. Florence Almore's parents thought it was
murder.'
She looked up at me with her big blue eyes. 'Does that
help you, Mr Marlowe?'
'Yes,' I said slowly, 'I think it does.' I gave her a big smile.
'You and I must have dinner together some time, blue eyes.'
• • • •
I drove back to Altair Street, Bay City. I put the gun back on
Lavery's bathroom floor and called the police. They came
fast, hard men with hard, cold eyes. I knew one of them -
Detective Degarmo, the big man with a square face and very-
blue eyes. His boss was an angry little man called Webber. I
sat in one of Lavery's chairs and answered their questions. I
told them all about Kingsley, his wife. Bill Chess and Muriel,
the black-and-white dress. All the time Degarmo watched me
with cold eyes.
Then the police doctor arrived. Webber turned to De-
garmo. 'OK, Al, you stay here with Marlowe. I'm going to
look at the body with the doctor.'
He went out. I looked at Degarmo.
'How's Dr Almore this morning?' I said. 'What's he afraid
of today?'
'You said you didn't know Almore.' Degarmo's eyes were
angry.
'I didn't yesterday. But today I know a lot of things. Chris
Lavery knew Mrs Almore, and he found her dead body.
Perhaps he knew it wasn't suicide. Perhaps he knew that Dr
Almore was the murderer, and that there was a police cover-
up.'
Degarmo stood up and walked over to me. 'Say that
again,' he said angrily.
I said it again.
He hit me very hard across the face with his open hand. He
didn't break my nose, but that was because I have a very
strong nose. I looked at him and said nothing.
He spoke through his teeth at me. 'I don't like private
detectives. Get out of here, fast! And don't make trouble!'
Five: Mildred Haviland then married and lived with Bill
Chess at Little Fawn Lake Six: Bill Chess worked for Mr
Kingsley up at the lake. Seven: Kingsley's wife sometimes
slept in the same bed as Chris Lavery. Eight: Chris Lavery
found Mrs Almore's dead body a year and a half ago.'
'I don't understand,' said Webber slowly.
'I don't understand all the story,' I said. 'I don't understand
why, or h o w . But it's the same story. The same names go
round and round in a little dance.' I lit a cigarette and looked
at Webber. 'And Detective Degarmo doesn't like any
questions about the Almores. He gets very angry. Why? Was
there something . . . wrong about Mrs Almore's suicide?'
' O K , ' said Webber. 'I wasn't in this office at the time of
the Almore suicide. But there was something . . . not right.
Perhaps somebody did murder Mrs Almore.'
'And Degarmo worked on the Almore suicide.'
'That's right.'
'And his name is Al. And the writing on Mildred Haviland's
watch says, "Al to Mildred. W i t h all my love." And a big
man with a square face was up at Puma Point six weeks ago
with a photo of Mildred Haviland.'
'OK, Marlowe,' Webber said tiredly. 'What do you want?'
'I want to show that Mrs Kingsley did not murder Lavery.
I think Lavery died because he knew something about Dr
Almore or Mildred Haviland. And when I show that Mrs
Kingsley is not a murderer, I get five hundred dollars from
Mr Kingsley.'
Webber smiled. 'OK,' he said.
'And Degarmo?'
Webber's face was sad. 'She was his wife at one time. Six
or seven years ago. She gave him a very hard time.'
I sat very, very quietly and looked at him. 'Mildred Havi-
land was Degarmo's wife?'

26
 'Yes. She's dangerous, that lady. She eats men for breakfast,
but they love it. One smile from her, and men j u m p out of
windows for her. Degarmo loved her then, and he loves her
now.'
• • • •
I got back to my flat at about midnight. When I opened the
door, I heard the phone. I walked across the room and
answered it. It was Derace Kingsley.
'I heard from Crystal this evening. I'm coming round to
your flat now. Be ready to move.' The phone went dead.

CHAPTER SIX

Kingsley arrived five minutes later. He didn't want to sit

down and he didn't want a drink. He pulled out a brown
envelope and gave it to me.
'Take this to Crystal,' he said. 'She's waiting for you now,
in the Black Cat bar down in Bay City. There's five hundred
dollars in that envelope. She's in trouble. She knows the
police are looking for her. She must get out of town tonight,
but she wants money.'
I put the envelope on the table. ' N o t so fast,' I said. ' H o w
does she know the police are looking for her? And did she
kill Lavery? I'm not going to help a murderer.'
Kingsley's eyes were very unhappy. 'I know that's difficult
for you,' he said quietly. 'But what can I do? Perhaps she
killed Lavery, perhaps she didn't. I didn't speak to her on the
phone. The girl in my office took the call. Crystal didn't
want to talk to me, and I didn't want to talk to her. I don't
want to see her again. But she is my wife.'
I walked across to the window and thought for a minute.
'OK,' I said. 'I'm going. I want to hear her story. But I give

28
murderers to the police, OK? N o w , how is she going to
k n o w me?'
Kingsley smiled for the first time. 'Thanks, Marlowe,' he
said. 'Crystal says her hair's light b r o w n now, and short — not
long and yellow. And you can wear my scarf. She knows
that.' He took it off and gave it to me. It was green and
yellow and red. T h e colours hit me in the eye.
• • • •
At one-fifteen in the morning the Black Cat bar was quiet —
only five or six people were at the tables. By the door was a
small w o m a n with light-brown hair. She wore a yellow dress
and a short grey coat. She saw my scarf first, and then me.
We walked out into the street together and stopped by a shop
window.
'Give me the money,' she said.
'I want to hear your story.'
'No.'
' N o story, no money.'
She turned her head away and said nothing for a minute.
Then, ' O K . C o m e to the Granada Hotel. R o o m 618. It's in
the next street. C o m e in ten minutes.' She walked away
d o w n the street. I stood by the w i n d o w and followed her
with my eyes.
R o o m 618 was a big sitting-room. There was a half-open
door at the back, perhaps to the bedroom and bathroom. I sat
d o w n and looked at Mrs Kingsley very carefully. I had one,
not very good photo of her, but I had a good picture in my
head. Crystal Kingsley was young and pretty and not very
clever. T h e woman in front of me was young and pretty —
and very, very clever. She gave me a quick, little-girl smile,
and I watched her quiet eyes carefully.
'Give me the money, please,' she said.
'The story first,' I said. 'You left your car in San Bernardino

30i
and you met Lavery there. You sent Kingsley a letter from El
Paso. W h a t did you do then?'
' W h y do you want to know?'
' D o you want the money?'
She looked at me for a minute, then she told me her story.
She left Lavery in El Paso, and he went home to Bay City.
She didn't want to stay with him. After that, she moved
about. She stayed in hotels, here and there. She wanted to be
quiet, to think, she said.
I listened. It was a good story and she told it well. Clever
Mrs Kingsley.
'Before you left Little Fawn Lake,' I said, 'did you have a
fight with Muriel Chess? About Bill.'
'Bill Chess? What are you talking about?'
'Bill says you went to bed with him.'
' D o n ' t be stupid! That dirty little man!'
'Perhaps he is. The police think he's a murderer, too. Of his
wife. We found Muriel's dead body in the lake. After a month.'
She put a finger between her teeth and watched me care-
fully. 'What a sad story,' she said slowly.
'But Muriel Chess was Mildred Haviland. And Mildred
Haviland was Dr Almore's office nurse. And Lavery lives
across the road from Dr Almore. So you understand that I
wanted to talk to you.'
'I can't help you about Muriel.'
' N o , ' I said. ' O h well, here's the money from Kingsley.' I
gave her the envelope and sat d o w n again. 1 watched her eyes
and said quietly, 'That was a very pretty blue hat. Your hair
was a darker brown this morning, but those nice legs are the
same. I always remember a woman's legs. I don't think you
saw me in my car outside Lavery's house this morning.'
She went very quiet. 'So you think I shot Chris Lavery?'
she said slowly.

32
 'I don't think it. I know it.'
'What are you going to do now?'
'Give you to the police.'
Suddenly, there was a gun in her hand, and she laughed.
N o t a nice laugh.
'Stand up,' she said.
I stood up, and gave her a weak smile. 'Detective meets
murderer, and murderer shoots detective. Is that it?' I asked.
'But you're not very good with guns. You're standing too
near me.'
She didn't like that, and her eyes moved angrily. I hit her
gun hand hard and kicked her feet at the same time. The gun
hit the floor, and I caught her arms behind her back. She was
strong, and fought and kicked. Suddenly I heard a new
sound, but I had no time to look. I knew that there was a
man behind me and that he was a big man. Then something
hit me on the back of the head and everything went black.

CHAPTER SEVEN

W h e n I opened my eyes, I was on my back on the floor. I sat

up slowly, and my head went round and round. I closed my
eyes again and waited. After two or three minutes I opened
them, and began to stand up. It took me a long time.
Suddenly I was an old man of ninety-five.
And where was I? I remembered a girl, a girl with light-
brown hair and quiet eyes. I looked round the room. She was
on the floor by the door to the bedroom. Her eyes were
open, but she didn't see me. She didn't see anything, and she
didn't say anything. There was a long kitchen knife in her
throat, and the light-brown hair and the yellow dress were
all red.

33
 This was my third dead body and I wasn't happy about it.

Murder-a-day Marlowe, I thought. This was my third

dead body, and I wasn't happy about it. You can find one
murdered body, or perhaps two, and walk away. But when
you find three bodies in two days, the police start to get very
interested in you.
The hotel was very quiet, but suddenly I heard sounds of
cars in the street. I went to the window and looked out
carefully. Police cars. A lot of them. They stopped outside the
hotel.
Quickly I found my coat, Kingsley's scarf and the envelope
of money. I left the room fast and went down at the back of
the building. I found the door to the garage under the hotel,
opened it quietly and went through. I began to run to my car
— but a big hand came out of the dark and caught my arm.
And somebody said quietly into my ear, 'Let's take a walk,
Marlowe.'

35
 I looked round, into the very blue eyes of Detective D e -
garmo.
• • • •
We drove away from the hotel and then stopped and talked
in my car. D e g a r m o was in trouble with his boss, Webber,
and he didn't want Webber to find me.
' W h a t happened, Marlowe? There's a dead w o m a n up in
R o o m 618. Somebody called the police ten minutes ago.'
I lit a cigarette and told him my story - about the call to
Kingsley, my meeting with Mrs Kingsley, the man in the
room, the hit on my head.
He looked at me carefully. 'Did you see this man?'
' N o . He was a big man, but I didn't see his face. This
yellow-and-green scarf was on the floor.' I showed it to
Degarmo. 'I saw it on Kingsley earlier this evening. Perhaps
Kingsley killed her. She made a lot of trouble for him.' I
watched his face.
He thought about it for a minute. ' O K , I'm interested,' he
said. He looked at me. 'I want to find this murderer before
Webber finds him. And then perhaps I can get out of trouble.
Let's go and talk to Kingsley, eh? Where does he live?'
But Kingsley was not at home. We found a phone and I
called Redhead, but she didn't k n o w . Then I phoned Police-
man Jim Patton up at Puma Point. It was n o w half past four
in the morning. Half an hour later Jim Patton called me back.
Yes, he said, there was a light on in Kingsley's house at Little
Fawn Lake and his car was outside.
We drove up into the mountains, stopped, ate some break-
fast and drove again. After a long time Degarmo spoke: 'That
dead girl in the lake up there. That was my girl. Mildred.
Webber told me last night. I'd like to get my hands on that
Bill Chess.'
' D o n ' t make more trouble,' I said. 'You covered up for

36
Mildred a year and a half ago. When she murdered Dr
Almore's wife.'
, He turned his head and looked at me. He laughed, but his
eyes were hard and angry.
'A dangerous lady,' I said, 'but you loved her. She put
Florence Almore to bed, and gave her a killer drug. When
Almore came home, his wife was dead. But you and he
covered up for Mildred — Almore, because he was afraid, and
you, because you loved her. Am I right?'
The big man didn't say a word.
'Then you sent Mildred away. So she went away, and
married Bill Chess. But Little Fawn Lake isn't a very exciting
place, and after about a year Mildred wanted to leave. She
didn't have any money, so she wrote to Almore. No address,
just send money to Mildred at Puma Point. But that's a
dangerous game. T h e first time it's fifty dollars. The next
time it's five hundred dollars. Almore didn't like that, so he
sent you up to Puma Point with a photograph. I think
Mildred was a little afraid of you, Degarmo. But you didn't
find her. Right?'
Degarmo looked out of the window. After a minute or
two he said, ' O K . Let's forget it. It's all finished n o w . '
We drove on to Little Fawn Lake. The sun was up now,
and the mountains were very beautiful in the early-morning
light.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Jim Patton met us on the road near Kingsley's house. He had

a young policeman with him, a boy called Andy. We got out
of the car.
'Hi, Jim,' I said.

38
 Jim Patton gave me his big friendly smile. 'How are you,
son?' he said. He looked at Degarmo.
'This is Detective Degarmo of the Bay City Police,' I said.
'Somebody murdered Kingsley's wife in Bay City last
night,' said Degarmo. 'I want to talk to him about it.'
'You think Mr Kingsley killed her?' Jim Patton asked.
We told him the story, and then the three of us moved up
to Kingsley's house. Degarmo had a gun under his jacket.
Patton had a gun, too, but I don't like carrying guns. They
can get you into trouble.
We pushed open the door and went in. Kingsley was in a
chair, his eyes closed and a whisky bottle on the table next to
him. His face was tired and grey.
Degarmo spoke first. 'Your wife's dead, Kingsley. And
you left your scarf behind in R o o m 618. That was stupid.'
He turned to me. 'Show him the scarf,' he said.
I got out the yellow, green and red scarf, and put it on a
table. Kingsley looked at it, then at me, then at Degarmo.
'I don't understand,' he said. 'That's my scarf, but Marlowe
wore it when he went down to Bay City. My wife didn't
know him, and '
Degarmo made an angry sound and turned to me. 'You
didn't tell me that,' he said quickly.
'You didn't want to know,' I said. 'You wanted Kingsley
to be the murderer. That was a nice, easy answer.' I looked at
Kingsley. 'I only saw your wife in a photograph. But I did
see her before last night. She was the woman in the blue
hat outside Lavery's house yesterday morning. I told you.
Remember?'
'I didn't hear about a woman in a blue hat,' said Degarmo
angrily. 'So Mrs Kingsley did murder Lavery, then.'
'No,' I said. 'She didn't murder Lavery. And you know
that better than anybody. She didn't shoot Lavery yesterday

40
morning, because she died a month ago. Crystal Kingsley was
the dead woman in Little Fawn Lake. And the woman in the
Granada Hotel last night was Mildred Haviland, and Mildred
Haviland was Muriel Chess. So Mildred Haviland murdered
Chris Lavery yesterday morning, and somebody murdered
Mildred last night.'
For a long time nobody spoke. Then Jim Patton said
slowly, 'But Bill Chess thought the woman in the lake was
his wife.'
'After a month in the water?' I said. 'The body wore his
wife's clothes and had the same long yellow hair. Everybody
thought it was Muriel. Why not?'
'Finish the story, son,' Jim Patton said. He watched
Degarmo all the time. He didn't look at Kingsley.
So I told them. They all listened to me very carefully.
Degarmo's face was white and his eyes were hard and cold. I
told them about Florence Almore's murder a year and a half
ago, and about the police cover-up. 'Mildred was a very
dangerous lady,' I said. 'After the first murder, the next
murder is easy. She wanted to leave Little Fawn Lake, and she
wanted money. Almore didn't give her any money. But
Crystal Kingsley was rich, and Mildred found her in bed with
her man, Bill. Mildred didn't like that. So she murdered Mrs
Kingsley and put her body in the lake. Then she pretended
to be Mrs Kingsley. She took her money, her clothes and her
car, and went down to San Bernardino. There she met
trouble - Chris Lavery. Lavery knew that she was Muriel
Chess, and not Crystal Kingsley. But Mildred was a clever
girl. When she said "jump", every man jumped for her. So
she took Lavery away with her, and wrote to Kingsley from
El Paso.'
I stopped. Nobody said anything. Nobody moved. Kings¬
ley looked at the floor, Patton looked at Degarmo, and
Degarmo looked at nothing. I lit a cigarette. 'But then
Lavery went home to Bay City. She stayed near him, because
he was dangerous to her. He knew that she wasn't Crystal
Kingsley. Then I began to ask questions about Mrs Kingsley,
and that was the finish for Lavery. Mildred went down to his
house and shot him in the bathroom.'
I stopped again, and Patton said slowly, 'So who killed
Mildred, son? Do we know that, too?'
T h e room was very quiet. 'Let's say that it was a very
unhappy man. He loved Mildred, he helped her many times,
but it wasn't easy for him. He wanted to stop the murders -
three were too many. But he didn't want everybody to know
her story. Let's say it was Degarmo.'
Degarmo moved away from the window, and his gun was
in his hand. 'That's a very interesting story, Marlowe.' He
smiled, but not with his eyes. ' H o w did I find her, then?'
'I think Almore saw her outside Lavery's house one day.
He told you, then you followed her to the Granada Hotel.
Easy for a detective.'
'Yeah,' Degarmo said. He began to move to the door.
'Well, I'm leaving now. And no fat old policeman is going to
stop me.'
'Don't do it, son,'Jim Patton said to him quietly.
Degarmo laughed, and looked at the gun in his right
hand. Patton didn't move. But his gun spoke for him, and
Degarmo's gun flew out of his hand and hit the floor.
Degarmo turned, and ran to the door.
We went to the window and watched. 'I can't shoot a man
in the back,' Patton said sadly. 'He's going to take Andy's car.
But he can't get out of these mountains. We can stop all the
roads.'
Degarmo ran to Andy's car, got in and drove away fast. I
turned and looked at Kingsley. He stood up, got a new bottle

43
of whisky from the cupboard, went into the bedroom and
closed the door. Patton and I went quietly out of the house.
• • • •
We drove down to Puma Point. On the road outside the
village there were some cars and a lot of people. We stopped
and got out. A man came over to us.
'There's a car down there, Jim,' he said. T h e man drove
too fast and went off the road down the mountain. They're
pulling him out now.'
We went and looked. A hundred feet down the mountain
was Andy's little red car. T h e men down there carefully
pulled something big and heavy out of the car.
It was the dead body of a man.
 EXERCISES

Vocabulary Work
Look back at the Dictionary Words' in this story. Do you know all the
words? Write eight sentences using these words.
a murder/lady/scarf/throat e stupid/whisky
b pretend/suicide/trouble f cover up/body
c stupid/marry/lady g to light/whisky
d late/private h nurse/drug

Comprehension

Chapters 1-2
1 Who was who?
a a tail strong man with grey eyes
b the man's wife
c the wife's boyfriend
d a big man with a square face and blue eyes
e a thin doctor
f a man who lives at Little Fawn Lake
g a woman who died in the lake
2 What happened first, second, third, etc?
Detective Degarmo told Marlowe to move off.
Marlowe talked with Bill Chess,
Marlowe talked to Derace Kingsley in Kingsley's office.
Marlowe drove to Little Fawn Lake.
Marlowe talked with Chris Lavery in Bay City.
Marlowe and Chess found a body in the lake.
Marlowe watched Dr Almore at his house.
3 What is important about 12th June?

46
Chapters 3-5
4 What was inside the tin of sugar? What did the writing on the back of
it say?
5 Marlowe says something and Degarmo gets very angry. What are
the words that make him angry? What does he do to Marlowe?
6 Which of these sentences are true?
a Muriel Chess is Mildred Haviland.
b Muriel was married to Bill.
c Mildred was Dr Almore's nurse.
d Mildred was Degarmo's wife.
e Mildred was in love with Dr Almore.

Chapters 6-8
7 On page 35 Marlowe says: 'This was my third dead body and I
wasn't happy about it.' Who are the three dead bodies?
8 Look at the picture on page 42. Who are the four men, from left to
right? What can you see next to the bottle on the table? Whose is it?
9 What was the true name of 'the lady in the lake'?
10 What was the name of the other woman who died in the Granada
Hotel?

Discussion

1 What do you think of Philip Marlowe? Which of these words describe

him well?
strong clever friendly
sad hard interesting
quick-thinking careful cold
quiet sleepy unusual
well-dressed
2 Marlowe sees and hears the little 'unimportant' things. These help
him to answer the big important questions. What are some of these
little 'unimportant' things in the story? And why are they important?
3 How many people died in the story? Which of these people do you
feel most sorry for? Why?

47
Writing

1 Write a sentence or two about each of these people.

a Derace Kingsley d Muriel Chess
b Detective Degarmo e Chris Lavery
c the girl in Kingsley's office f Bill Chess
2 You are Jim Patton. The police in Bay City write to you, asking these
questions.
a Who killed Florence Almore? Where and when?
b Who killed Crystal Kingsley? Where, when and why?
c Who killed Chris Lavery? Where and why?
d Who killed Mildred Haviland? Where and why?

Review

1 Did you enjoy this book? Say why or why not.

2 A member of your family wants to read this book. Say why he or she
will or will not like it.