the road. My guess is, he's traveling the rails, seeing the country. And one of these days, God willing, he'll get back in touch with the family, and he'll be a grown-up.'
'What are you saying, Mr. Heller?'
'Nate. I'm saying, save your money. I'll take the case if you insist but I think things would work out just as well if you let them work out on their own.'
Without hesitation, she said, 'Please take the case.'
I shrugged. Smiled. 'Consider it taken.'
'Splendid!' she said. Her smile lit up the room.
'My rates are ten bucks a day. I'll put at least three days into this, so…'
She was already digging into her purse. 'Here's a hundred dollars.'
'That's too much.'
'Please take it. It's a… what is it?'
'Retainer. I can't.'
'Please.'
'I'd rather not.'
'Please.'
'Well. Okay.'
'Splendid!'
'Listen, do you have an address? A place where I can reach you?'
'I have a studio on East Chestnut. We have a phone.' She gave me the number; I wrote it down.
'That's in Tower Town, isn't it?' I said,
'Yes. And you aren't surprised, are you?' That last was delivered impishly.
'No,' I admitted. Tower Town was Chicago's version of Greenwich Village, home of the city's self-styled bohemians. 'Say. how did you happen to pick me to come to?'
She looked at me with more innocence than I knew still existed in the world; or anyway, Chicago. 'You were first in the phone book,' she said. Then she stood. 'I have to run. I've two parts on a sudser this afternoon.'
'Where?'
'Merchandise Mart.'
That was where the NBC studios were; CBS was at the Wrigley Building.
'Let me get your coat,' I said, and got up from behind the desk.
I put it on her; the smell
She gazed at me with the brownest eyes I ever saw and said, 'I think you're going to find my brother for me.'
'No promises,' I said, and opened the door for her.
I'd give it the old college try, Palmer or otherwise.
I went to the window and looked at her out on the street, straining to see her through the fire escape between us, seeing little more than the top of her head, that beret, as she caught a streetcar.
'I think I'm in love.' I said to nobody.
Sundays. I missed Janey.
I missed her other times, too; every night, for instance. Days hadn't been a problem: my new business was keeping me occupied, so far. and I didn't really have time to mope. I worked long days, so nights I was tired, and then there was always Barney's speak waiting for me when I dragged home; not that I got drunk every night, but I drank enough to go to sleep without much effort. Rum, mostly.
But Sunday, goddamn Sunday.
That was our day, Janey's and mine. Good weather, we'd go to a park or a beach or a ball game- summers we played tennis and pee wee golf; we'd go to a matinee in winter, maybe ice-skate at some lagoon, or just spend a day in her flat, and she'd cook for me, and we'd listen to Bing Crosby records, and play Mah-Jongg, and make love two or three times. Now and then Eliot and his wife, Betty, would have us over for Sunday dinner, like family, and we'd play some bridge. Eliot and Betty usually won, but it made for a nice afternoon. A preview of the sweet, quiet life Janey and I'd have after we got married and had a house of our own, maybe even in as respectable a neighborhood as Eliot and Betty's.
But I wasn't living in a dream cottage, I was living in an office, and that had its advantages, but spending Sunday alone in it wasn't one of them. I'd sit and look at the phone and think about calling Janey. I would manage, for minutes at a time, to convince myself there was a percentage in doing that. A full five minutes might go by before I admitted to myself that what was between us was dead.
And today was Sunday.
But I had another woman on my mind, this Sunday: a client. Purely business. I was able to convince myself of that for minutes at a time, too.
I hadn't had a chance, yet. to do much about tracking down Mary Ann Beanie's brother. I had started on the
