“It’s been tried.”
“Well. Well, at least you brush your teeth.”
“I know. I was thinking it would’ve been better if I’d eaten some garlic.”
“How did you know I was lying?”
“Because you’re a liar.”
“So it wasn’t anything I said today, or that Shade was here?”
“No. I always knew you must be lying about at least some of this. Shade shook you up, and I thought I saw a chance to squeeze a little truth out.”
“You saw a chance... And here I was calling you nice. I suppose you can be, but you’re also somewhat horrible, aren’t you?”
“Anyway, this story’s better than the first.”
“Thanks. Well, I guess I’ll drop you home now.”
“Thanks.”
“I guess I’ve brought all this on myself.”
“That’s right. From now on, don’t lie to me. It makes everything harder.”
“From now on?” she said. “You’ll still help me?”
“Sure.”
“Even now?”
“I took your money.”
“It was stolen.”
I said, “Most money is.”
As soon as Rebecca dropped me off, I got into my car and went to a florist. There was a young gal at the counter and a middle-aged woman in back. I asked to talk to the older woman. She set down her shears and came to the counter, peeling off her gloves. I said my wife was mad at me and what did she suggest? I left with two dozen pink roses in a pink vase with gold doodads and drove over to Republic, holding it between my knees. Mattie Reece’s feet were back on the desk when I came in. I set the roses down next to them and dropped into a chair. He looked me over. I didn’t seem to please him much.
“You bringing me flowers, soldier?” he said.
I shook my head. “You’re bringing your wife flowers.”
“Why?”
“Because she’s mad at you.”
“Why would she be mad?”
“She’s married to you.”
He nodded. “Thanks for the flowers. Still waiting to hear on Halliday. Couple days.”
“Appreciate it,” I said.
He pointed his chin at my suit. “Going to a fancy dress ball?”
“Lenny Scarpa’s taking me to the prom.”
“Is he now.”
“I work for him. As of last night.”
“Huh. I thought you were working for your lulu.”
“I am. By working for Scarpa.”
He thought that over. He didn’t enjoy it. Mattie drinks and chases, but he likes things to go right. He likes the law. I guess he wouldn’t want that to get around. His feet were crossed left over right, and he recrossed them right over left, looking off into the corner.
He said, “Don’t explain it to me, all right? I just hope to hell you know what you’re doing.”
“A man in a suit like this always knows what he’s doing. Tell me something, Mattie. I’m an industry guy, and I want a little snow on my roof. Where do I go?”
“To your new boss,” he said grimly.
“Where else?”
“Nowhere else.”
“Think harder. Somebody’s been cutting in on Scarpa’s movie customers. Enough so he’s hired some palooka to go hunting for him. At least, that’s what I hear.”
“You don’t say.” Reece’s eyes got soft and happy. “Thanks. That’s nice. That’s nicer than flowers.”
“Always happy to help, Mattie. Where do I buy my hop?”
There was a battered clothbound address book on the corner of his desk. He worked his mouth around a little, then shoved the book toward me with the heel of his shoe. “Look up
I opened the book and began leafing through the
“Movie people aren’t like your regular doper,” Mattie said, “Your regular doper’s a working joe. He’s got someone down on the shop floor, say, and they go out for a smoke and do the buy on the loading dock and hurry back before break’s over, because they’ve got sandwiches to finish. Well, I guess some movie people’ll do that, gaffers and so forth, but mostly movie people like everything to be fun. And they get their stuff at parties. Any given time, there’s two three dope parties going in this town, just for folks in the business. They move around a lot, close down and open up again, but you tend to see the same folks setting out the onion dip. Thing is, a new one’s popped up just in the last few weeks, and nobody knows who’s behind it. Runs most nights at the old Paley place.”
“Nita Paley,” I read aloud. “1625 Marine Street, Santa Monica.”
“That’s it.”
“Nita Paley. Didn’t she used to do Gypsy types? For Griffith and so on.”
“That’s the one. Great big spooky black eyes. Ohio farm girl.”
“She must be getting on.”
“Drowned in ’46 off Malibu. Nance Altschuler bought the place four years ago when her folks finally kicked her out. She and her artistic friends played house there a while, but what goes on these days is a little too rank even for Miss Altschuler and I hear she don’t show so much anymore. Her friends do, though. Nancy’s got friends.”
“Who goes to that sort of place?”
“Different kinds. Not just hopheads, either. The thing’s supposed to be some kind of art bit, with these sculptors and so forth that come around, probably for the food, and also you got that little element of, ah, danger I guess is how they think of it, and so everybody in the business who likes to feel they’re a little bohemian or little dangerous thinks it’s cute to come by and have a few drinks with the dope fiends. And also, you get to show your date how connected you are, because they run the place like an old speak, with a hard boy on the door, and nobody gets in without somebody’s okay.”
“I think I can manage that,” I said, standing. I pushed his foot over and set the address book back where it’d been. “Thanks, Mattie.”
“I liked your old clothes better,” he said, looking off into the corner again. “These kind of have a smell.”
“You get used to it,” I said. “I’ll call you.”
“You see any of my people there, give ’em my love.”
“Buy me a suit and we’ll talk about it,” I said, and went out.
I stopped in the outer office, perched on the corner of an empty desk, and looked at my watch. Four o’clock. Lisa Rae Bellinger would still be at the Gellar Agency. I picked up a phone. “It’s the gumshoe,” I said, when she came on the line.
“Hello, Gumshoe,” she said. “You called after all. Did somebody show you how to use a telephone?”
“I went down to the library and got a book on the subject.”
“Someone taught you to read?”
“It had pictures. Want to go to a party tonight?”
“Why, how very nice. You’re taking me to a party.”
