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Clunie suddenly seemed like a child, shy and nervous, such a contrast from her pose as flirtatious hostess a few moments before. "He's alive and well," I said, carefully not adding, well, he was this afternoon, "When did you last see him?" "Nearly a week ago. He used to come in all the time." "To see you, especially?" "Yes," she said. She seemed genuinely fond of the accountant. Maybe he had a soft side he didn't want to show me. How would I know? "Merton’s one of my, umm, special friends," she continued, "He treats me very nicely, like a lady. And he buys me little gifts, clothes and pretty things to wear." She raised one hand to her ear, where one of a pair of large and slightly vulgar-looking gold and emerald earrings dangled. A little over the top, maybe, but they sure looked expensive. "And I suppose you treat him especially nicely, too?" I said. Clunie blushed deeply, a red-brown tinge spreading over the glossy skin of her pretty face. She nodded, once, clasping and unclasping her hands in her lap. "Where do you go, to treat him so very nicely?" I said. Her blush deepened, reaching to the very ends of her pointy ears. "Sometimes I take him home with me, if I get off early," she replied softly, eyes downcast, "Then there's a little room at the back, beyond the storerooms. I don't think many people know about it." A private little room here in the Club, quiet and out of the way, with infrequently-occupied rooms on either side. Perfect for a nice little sting like this, I thought. "If people don't know about it, how did you find out?" "One of the other waitresses told me. Made me swear not to tell any of the others." Her resolve seemed to tighten, the innocence in her face leaching away like milk emptying from a glass, to be replaced with the brassy front she had exhibited earlier. "Who are you anyway?" she demanded, her eyes narrowing, "And why are you asking all these questions?" I drew a business card from my suit pocket and threw on the table in front of her. She picked it up, studied it for a second or two, then put it down on her tray. "Gask is the name, Findo Gask." I said, "I'm a private dick. I'm working for Vale. Someone's found out about you and your special friend, and is blackmailing him." "Blackmail?" she squeaked, "Who?" "Keep your voice down," I growled, "To answer your questions, yes, blackmail it is. Someone's threatening to tell his wife about your cosy little arrangement." "He said he was going to leave her," she said in a more subdued voice. "Not just yet, evidently. And I don't know who's trying to pull this stunt. Got any ideas?" I became aware that I was being watched by a goblin in a very sharply-tailored pinstripe suit, who was leaning against the bar not so far away and regarding me with grey patient eyes. Clunie also saw him, glanced away and stood up hurriedly. She snatched her tray and made to rush off, but I grabbed her arm before she could take more than a step. "Any ideas," I growled, "About Vale's blackmailer?" She shook her head hurriedly, tugged her arm from my grasp and scurried away.
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Part 5