Show of Evil

'I like a good Irish bar as much as the next person,' she said. 'But this place hasn't seen a broom in weeks. Has the health inspector heard about it?'

'He wouldn't dare come in here,' Vail said. 'They'd throw him in the river. What do you want to drink?'

'What're we eating?'

'Steak, French fries, salad, hard rolls.'

'Alka-Selzer.'

Vail laughed. 'What'll you wash it down with.'

'A Black Jack old-fashioned.'

The waiter had a biscuit ear, knuckles the size of pin-balls, and a glass eye. His smile was missing three teeth.

'Hey, Mart, how'th the boy, how'th the boy?' he lisped, plopping a brandy bottle with a candle stuck in it on the table and lighting it with a wooden kitchen match. 'Atmothphere,' he said.

'Steamroller, this is Miss Venable. She may become a regular if you treat her right.'

'Yeah?' Steamroller beamed. 'That would bring thome clath to the joint.'

'Oh, thank you,' Venable said, flashing a smile that was almost sincere. 'Not that it needs it.'

'Steamroller was heavyweight champion of Canada once,' Vail told her.

'How wonderful,' she replied.

'Yeah, I was on my way't' the top and some dinge knocked my eyeball out. Then the thon of a bitch thtepped on it, kinda ground his heel on it, kin ya believe it?'

'What an engrossing tale,' Venable said. 'Ever thought about writing your memoirs?'

Steamroller stared off at the corner for a moment, thinking, then said, 'Uh… I can't remember 'em.' Then he shrugged. 'Oh, well. Bushmill's thtraight up and a Corona fer the champ. How about chu, Mith… what wath it again, Vennie, Vinnie…'

'Venable,' she said sweetly. 'Why don't you just call me Jane. A Black Jack old-fashioned.'

'Aw right,' he said, flashing his shattered smile. 'I like a lady knowth how to drink.' He walked away, wiping his hands on a towel stuck in his belt.

'Next time I'm taking you to Aunt Clara's Tea Room,' Venable said. 'All the waitresses are ninety and speak in old English.'

'Cucumber sandwiches and lemonade?'

'Exactly.'

'Okay, tell me about Edith Stoddard.'

'I can't do that. You're the enemy.'

'Oh God, are we back to that?' he answered.

'I'm going to represent her, Marty.'

'What! I just wanted you to give her some advice until the judge gives her a…' He hesitated.

'A real lawyer, is that what you were going to say?'

'No, no. You know, one of the courthouse heavies. This isn't your game any more.'

'It is now, and blame yourself. You sent me in there.'

'Just to get her over the rough spots.'

'Uh-huh. Well, it didn't work.'

'What the hell happened?'

'It was either me or she was going to dump the whole story on Eckling,' Venable said.

Steamroller brought the drinks and plopped them down on the table. A little of the old-fashioned slopped over and he left licking his fingers.

Venable leaned across the table and said in a low voice, 'There's something not quite kosher about this.'

'How so?'