'She was angry at Talmadge March.'
'I don t blame her… I don t know what he was driving at yesterday.'
'I guess he doesn t like her,' Crane said.
'That s Alice s work.' The doctor shook his head. 'Alice hates Carmel.'
'Because of Richard?'
'Partly, and partly just because they re different breeds of cats.'
'And there was a note?' Crane persisted.
'Yes.' The doctor drained his glass. 'Her story s true.' He slid off his stool. 'I hope you won t say anything about it, though.'
'I won t,' Crane said.
'I d be in trouble if the police found out. I helped to make it look accidental,' Dr Woodrin said. 'And it would kill Simeon March.' He walked away.
After a time Crane went back to the table. The show had started and six girls in blue silk panties and glass- encrusted brassieres were dancing. They were very bad. Crane recognized Dolly Wilson at the left end. She waved at him. Ann was back at the table with the others, and he sat beside her. She paid no attention to him.
He felt a little bit lonely. Nobody liked him except Dolly Wilson. It was tough, being a detective and having nobody but Dolly Wilson like you. He felt possibly he was a little drunk. That was good, but he wished he had someone around who liked him and who… and whom he liked. That was good grammar. Damn good grammar! He liked Ann, but she didn t like him. He didn t like the floor show, and he didn t care whether the floor show liked him or not. That was immaterial. Absolutely. He didn t like Peter March. He tried to look at Dr Woodrin to see if he liked him, but his chair overbalanced and Carmel March had to catch him.
'Thank you,' he said to Carmel. 'You have saved my life.'
'I didn t do anything,' Carmel said. 'You saved my life.' Ann said, 'Be quiet.'
A moment later he didn t have to be urged to be quiet. The lights went out, the orchestra began to moan, a circle of chalk light sought out Delia Young by the magenta curtains. She moved slowly, exaggerating the swing of her curved hips, to the center of the floor. Her skin was as white as bathroom tile.
She looked as though she were half asleep. Her eyes were almost closed. The piano hit a few chords. She sang:
'I m not much to look at;
Nothing to see…'
Cold shivers coursed along Crane s back. Her voice was like no other voice he had ever heard. It was husky- hoarse, but in a feminine way; it was as though she had a cold, as though she had tuberculosis of the larynx. But the voice had range and control, rising to an icy vibrancy which made Crane s ears shudder, then falling to a dry whisper that people held their breath to hear.
The piece was a very sad one. The tempo was slow; the accompaniment of drum, piano and violin subdued. Delia Young sang:
'I got a fellow crazy for me,
He s funny that way…'
She finished the verse, stood in the spotlight with closed eyes. Back of her the orchestra swung it with trumpets, clarinet and saxophones. It made a hell of a contrast; it was a very fine effect. Then the piano took the break again, very slow, and the husky, magic voice poured from Delia Young s lips.
Her face was expressionless, sleepy, bored; her breast hardly moved; it was as if she, through no volition of her own, simply opened her mouth and let the melancholy song come out.
There was no clapping immediately after she finished. Then there was a lot, but she wouldn t sing again. She glided behind the curtains; the lights went on; Dolly Wilson began to tap-dance with more energy than skill.
Carmel smiled at Crane. 'Sings well, doesn t she?'
'My God!' Crane said.
After a while he saw Delia Young seated alone at a table diagonally across the dance floor. He had the waiter bring a bottle of champagne in an ice bucket, tied to the bottle a card on which he had written: 'If you want help with this I am ready.'
The waiter hesitated. 'I m not sure Miss Young will appreciate this. You know she s…'
'So I ve heard.' Crane gave him a five-dollar bill. 'Don t let it worry you.'
Ann was also looking at Delia. She turned to Crane, 'If you re not too tight will you tell me something?'
'Darling, I m not a bit tight.'
'Is that our Delia?'
He nodded his head. The floor show ended and the orchestra began to play dance music. Ann smiled at Peter March and he took her onto the floor. She didn t look at Crane. The waiter brought a note. It read: 'Bring your own bottle.'
He was genuinely amused. That was a smart one. He d sent her a bottle, but apparently he had no interest in it. 'Send Miss Young another battle,' he told the waiter. He thought he was going to like Delia.
He got up and said to Carmel and Dr Woodrin, 'Please forgive me.'
'Why?' Carmel asked.
'I ve been invited to a small reception… a very small reception in honor of Miss Young.'
Carmel drawled. 'She s said to be the gal of the toughest guy in these parts.'
'Please forgive me,' Crane said.
He had trouble crossing the dance floor. There seemed to be a great many people on the floor, and all of them had to bump into him. Some of them had to bump into him twice. The thing was that if the floor hadn t been tilted up in the direction of Delia Young s table he wouldn t have had to walk bent over and consequently could have avoided the couples who bumped him. But he couldn t avoid them, and for a time he considered getting on hands and knees and crawling under the couples and up the incline. Suddenly he found himself by her table.
Her eyes were purple and amused. 'The sea rough?'
He sat opposite her. 'Would you care to dance?'
'Do you think you can, mister?'
He stood up, bowed, caught his balance by clutching the table. 'Excuse!' He bowed, caught his balance by clutching a chair. He gave up trying to bow. 'Madam, please meet the greatest little dancer of them all.'
Delia Young slid back her chair. 'Remember, Arthur Murray, I leave you where you fall.'
They walked to the floor and danced, and it was quite a surprise to everybody.
It surprised Delia Young because he danced very well, and it surprised Crane because he hadn t expected her to dance with him. It surprised Frenchy Duval, watching from the door and thinking it was a good thing Slats Donovan was not there, because ordinarily when Delia had a snootful she didn t exactly dance that way. It surprised Dolly Wilson, who had taken off her tap shoes expecting to dance with Crane. And it surprised Ann, though not very much.
When the orchestra stopped, Crane walked fairly steadily back to the table, held the chair for Delia Young. She looked at him curiously as he sat down. 'You re not bad, Arthur.'
'No, I m not.'
The waiter poured champagne. He filled Delia s glass only halfway, but she called him back. 'What s the idea? Frenchy trying to taper me off?' He filled it to the brim.
They drank and then danced. Then they drank. Crane thought she was a splendid woman. 'I think you are a splendid woman,' he said.
'I m high, wide and handsome,' she said. 'I m tall.'
'Tall?'
'High. Tight. Crocked. Drunk.'
'Oh, tall?' Crane had never before heard this word. It was a good one. He said, 'Champagne always makes me tall.'
'Did you ever try gin and laudanum?'
'Gin and laudanum always makes me tall.'
'Did you ever try champagne and laudanum?'
'No.'
'Never champagne and laudanum, Arthur?'
