Free A Bullet for Cinderella by John D. MacDonald

didn’t you tell George Warden that?”
    “I didn’t know how he’d take it.”
    “You didn’t tell Fitzmartin, either?”
    “He has no reason to know my business.”
    “But you went out there to see him. And you were both in the same camp with Timmy Warden. It would seem natural to tell him.”
    “I don’t care how it seems. I didn’t tell him.”
    “If a man came to town with a cooked-up story about writing a book, it would give him a chance to nose around, wouldn’t it?”
    “I guess it would.”
    “What else have you written?”
    “Nothing else.”
    “Are you familiar with the state laws and local ordinances covering private investigators?”
    I stared at him blankly. “No.”
    “Are you licensed in any state?”
    “No. I don’t know what—”
    “If you were licensed, it would be necessary for you to find out whether this state has any reciprocal agreement. If so, you would merely have to make a courtesy call and announce your presence in this county and give the name of your employer.”
    “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
    “Do you know a woman named Rose Fulton?”
    “No. I’ve never heard of her.”
    “Were you employed by Rose Fulton to come to Hillston?”
    “No. I told you I never heard of her.”
    “We were advised a month ago that Rose Fulton had hired an investigator to come here on an undercover assignment. We’ve been looking for the man. He would be the third one she’s sent here. The first two made a botch of their job. There was no job here for them in the first place. Rose Fulton is a persistent and misguided woman. The case, if there was any case, was completely investigated by this department. Part of our job is to keep citizens of Hillston from being annoyed and persecuted by people who have no business here. Is that clear to you?”
    “I don’t understand what you’re talking about. I really don’t.”
    He looked at me for what seemed a long time. Then he said, “End of interrogation witnessed by Brubaker and Sparkman. Copies for file. Prine.” He clicked the switch and closed the desk drawer. He leaned back in his chair and yawned, then pushed my wallet, checks, and notebook toward me. “It’s just this, Howard. We get damned tired of characters nosing around here. The implication is that we didn’t do our job. The hell we didn’t. This Rose Fulton is the wife of the guy who ran off with George Warden’s wife, Eloise.”
    “That name Fulton sounded familiar, but I didn’t know why.”
    “It happened nearly two years ago. The first inquiry came from the company Fulton worked for. We did some hard work on it. Fulton was in town for three days. He was registered at the Hillston Inn. He stayed there every time he was in town. On the last night he was here, Friday night, he had dinner at the hotel with Eloise Warden. She waited in the lobby and he checked out. They got in his car. They drove to the Warden house. Eloise went in. Fulton waited out in the car. It was the eveningof the eleventh of April. A neighbor saw him waiting and saw her come out to the car with a big suitcase. They drove off. George Warden hadn’t reported it to us. He knew what the score was when he got back to town and saw the things she’d taken. It was an open and shut situation. It happens all the time. But Rose Fulton can’t bring herself to believe that her dear husband would take off with another woman. So she keeps sicking these investigators on us. You could be the third. I don’t think so. No proof. Just a hunch. She thinks something happened to him here. We know nothing happened to him here. I’ve lost patience, so this time we’re making it tough. You can go. If I happen to be wrong, if you happen to be hired by that crazy dame, you better keep right on going, friend. We’ve got a small force here, but we know our business.”
    The big middle-aged man moved away from the door to let me out. There was no offer of a ride back to where they had picked me up. I