Fade to Blonde

talked to one of his lawyers and fixed the whole thing up. That’s why I didn’t go to bed with him, the first night. Because he’d just given me money.”

“When was the last time you saw him?”

“Nine days ago. I spent the rest of the night just shaking, with a chair jammed under the doorknob, and the next morning I packed a bag and left. I was way up in Pasadena, in a much nicer house than this, but I thought I’d better go way across town and find someplace really cheap, because I wasn’t going to go back to work either. I just never went back to Ciro’s.”

“What name do you use here?”

“Rebecca Stevens. Do you think that’s too close?”

“No, I think that’s all right. He’s not going to go house to house looking for Rebeccas.”

“Do you believe me a little now?”

“That about describes it. What were you thinking I could do about it?”

“Well,” she said, looking happier, and set her pen to the paper. “First of all, he owns a nightclub.”

“Part of one. The Centaur.”

“That’s right. What if you told him he’d better leave me alone, because otherwise you were going to do something to his nightclub?” As she spoke, she wrote Threaten Nightclub very neatly at the top of the page.

“That puts me against all his partners, too,” I said. “Rebecca, unless you’ve got an organization, you don’t threaten gangsters. That’s like biting a shark. What else?”

She neatly crossed out Threaten Nightclub. “Well. You know the big boss of all the gangsters around there is a man named Fausto Burri. And he’s supposed to be a very old-fashioned old man. What if you told Halliday that if he didn’t leave me alone, you’d tell Burri that he was making pornographic movies?” She’d written: Smut.

“You’re not serious.”

She flushed. “I know my ideas probably aren’t very good. I don’t actually do this kind of thing, the way you probably do.”

“If Halliday’s making blue movies, Burri has a cut. His business is Burri’s business too.”

“All right, all right. But listen, what if you told Burri Halliday was going to burn me with lye? Because that’s not making Burri any money. That’s just a big stink for everybody, and probably bad for business, and so I suppose he wouldn’t like that.” She crossed out Smut and wrote Bad Business.

“You’ve got something there,” I admitted. “Just tell Burri, and Burri would tell Halliday to lay off. Yeah, that might do it. But you don’t need me for that. It’s a lot better coming from you.”

“I won’t go to see that man,” she said firmly.

“Even if it would solve your problems?”

“I won’t go see him,” she said, shaking her head back and forth.

“Rebecca,” I said. “You’re not serious. None of this is serious.”

“What do you mean? I’ve never been so—”

“I mean you’re not suggesting things you think will work. You’re suggesting things you think won’t work. You want me to knock your ideas down one by one until there’s just one thing left to do. The one you wanted done all along.”

She was silent.

“You don’t really want Halliday talked to,” I said. “Do you. You want him killed.”

“I never said that,” she said.

“It was the first thing you ever said to me.”

“All right. I was being a little dramatic.”

“I’m not a choirboy. But murder’s a lot of trouble, and it brings a lot of trouble. Maybe we can find a smarter way. You haven’t given me enough money to do murder, anyway. Or much of anything else, frankly.”

“I know I haven’t. I’ll get you more money. That’s just a first payment. I just have to think how to raise it. All I meant was, he has to leave me alone, Mr. Corson.”

“Rebecca, are we going to have this witless Oh-Mister-Corson schoolgirl bit from now on? You weren’t this stupid yesterday.”

She smiled faintly and said, “All right, Ray, my mistake. Most men like a woman stupid.” She’d been holding the engagement book like a hymnal, her knees and heels primly together, and now she eased one foot a bit backward, shifted her weight fractionally, and became the woman in the blue convertible again, wary and a bit sly.

“Maybe we do,” I said, “but I can’t use it now. What else do you know about Halliday?”

“I’ve told you what I know. I know what old movies he likes. Do you want to know what old movies he likes?”

“Not especially. Where’s he from?”

“We never got to that.”

“Any family here?”

“We never got to that. Do you want to hear about his old football team? Do you want to hear what he thinks of the color of my eyes?”

“What does he do for fun?”

“I think he has lots of girls. If he’s serious about anyone, except, I suppose, me, he didn’t say. I guess he likes a drink or two, but just like anyone else. If he drugs, I don’t know about it. Look, I have a picture for you.” She pulled a row of snapshots from a pocket in the back of her engagement book. It was a strip of four little pictures, the kind you get from a coin-operated photo booth, and it showed Rebecca posing with a fair-haired young man in front of a pleated gray curtain. She seemed to be sitting on his knee. In the first shot, they were displaying their right profiles together, their chins lifted. In the second, it was left profiles. In the third, they were both giving the camera sultry looks, their eyes narrowed. In the last, Halliday was lifting a hand to declaim and Rebecca was dissolving in laughter, her eyes squeezed shut and a lock of hair falling across her face and her broad, delicate mouth open. Halliday was certainly a very good-looking boy. I tucked the photos in my breast pocket and sat tapping my forefinger on my knee.

“I need a lever,” I said.

“You may not find one.”

“You’re not too eager to see Halliday hurt, are you?”

“You didn’t hear the things he said to me,” she said levelly. “What he’d do, and what he’d do after that. I need to be able to walk down the street again. Ray, if your conscience won’t let you do whatever this turns out to be, well, that’s all very splendid, but I think I might need to talk to someone else.”

“My conscience’s fine,” I said. “But you can talk to who you like. You want your money back?”

“You still have it?”

“No. I paid off my car with it this morning. I could get it again easy enough. Just go back and sell some of the car. You want it?”

“No. I don’t. Last night I slept well for the first time since I saw Halliday. I felt I’d finally done something. I do think I picked the right man, Ray.”

“I’ll do what I can. Meanwhile, see about getting me some more money.”

“All right about the money. I heard you. I’ll get some money. Unless you’d rather be paid in this?” she said, flicking at one of her buttons. “I told you, it’s not very good.”

“I wouldn’t mind finding out for myself,” I said, “but whether it’s good or lousy, it won’t pay my rent. How about giving some to my landlord once a week?”

“How ugly a man’s your landlord?”

“About like me.”

“I’ll get some money.”

I grinned. “Better. Much better. It was a dirty crack, anyway. You’re worth at least a month’s rent at that dump.”

“Why Mr. Corson, you say the sweetest things.”

“What’s Halliday’s address?”