“God, no!”
“Are you really going to try to get Pug?”
“Listen.” I scowled at her. “Nobody slugs me.”
“I like you when you look like that.”
We turned left past a schoolhouse and went down a dirt road Trees met over the road, making it dark. The sky was red from the sunset. There was no wind: it was going to be a hot night. We drove along for a time. It was hard to see the road. The trees made it hard to see. I put on the headlights, but they didn't do much good. I could smell clover in a field by the road. After a time we got to Gus Papas's.
It was a bigger place than Tony's. It was kind of a park as well as a restaurant. There was a small lake with a dock and a line of rowboats, and a ball field, and a lot of trees with tables and benches under them. At one end of the lake were tourist cabins. We drove by the cabins to the main building. Out in front was a gas pump. The building was a hunting-lodge, the walls made of rough-hewn logs and plaster. I parked the Chevy by two other cars.
Inside the lodge there were Indian rugs on the floor and deer and elk heads on the walls. There were some couches and a big stone fireplace. Ginger led me through a hall to a screened porch at the back where there was a bar and a Greek bartender. He was talking to a small man in a white suit. We ordered a sidecar and an old- fashioned. I asked the bartender it we could get something to eat.
“Sure. We gotta special fish dinner-.”
“What kind of fish?”
“Black bass. Is very good.”
“What do you say, Ginger?”
“It sounds all right.”
“Okay. Two bass dinners.”
We drank our drinks. Ginger smiled at me over the top of her glass. She didn't look quite so sullen. “Here's to Pug,” she said. She tried to drink to him, but her glass was empty. I ordered two more. Then we decided to wash for dinner.
The bartender showed me where the men's room was. While I was there two guys came in. One of them had on a tan gabardine suit. The other was a waiter. He had a broom. The guy in the tan suit was bawling him out for not having swept the washroom. I guess that was what it was. They were speaking Greek. The waiter took the broom and cleaned the door. The guy in the tan suit and I watched him. The waiter got a dustpan and swept the dirt into it. Then he went out.
The man in the tan suit grinned at me. He had a gold tooth. “Damn Greeks,” he said. “Loaf all time.”
“Yeah,” I said. “Say, you're Gus Papas, aren't you?”
“Tha's right.”
I held out my hand. “I'm Karl, in the City Clerk's office.”
We shook hands. He pretended to know me. Maybe he actually thought he did. Greeks are like that. They can believe anything they think they ought to believe.
“Anything I can do for you, Karl?” he asked.
“Maybe I can do something for you.”
The smile went off his face. His lips sort of puffed out, like red rubber tyres. He thought I was going to try to sell him something.
“You know Pug Banta? I asked.
His face changed again. He didn't look so soft. He nodded. “I think he's going to try to break up your place.
“How do you know that?”
“Don't get me wrong. I don't know it. It's only something I overheard at Tony's.”
The man in the white suit came into the washroom. He was a little drunk. He went to one of the urinals.
“You come to my office,” Papas said.
I followed him. There was a desk littered with papers and two chairs. A window looked out on the lake. “Sit down, please; now what you hear?”
“It wasn't much. Maybe I shouldn't bother you with it.”
“Do you think it's a bother to me, to hear how Pug wants to break up my joint? Don't make me laugh.”
“Okay. I heard Pug talking to a Greek-looking fellow.”
“Nick,” Papas said. “He used to work for me.”
“I didn't know that,” I said. “Anyway, I heard Pug say: 'He's been in my hair long enough.' And this Nick says: 'Why don't you drive him out? He's yellow. Break up his joint and he won't stop running until he hits Athens.'”
“Some kid, that Nick,” Papas said.
“And Pug says: 'By God! I'll do it. Tomorrow night. I'll make it look like he started the trouble.' And then Nick says: 'If you need a good fella to take Gus Papas's place, I'm him. I know how the place runs.'”
I looked at Papas to see how he was taking it. He looked scared and mad. He muttered something in Greek. Then he asked: “Why you tell me this?”
“Pug beat me up once.”
