Devil in a Blue Dress

'I said I don't wanna hear it, Mr. Baxter. It's just too much goin' on fo' me t'be worried 'bout what you think ain't right. Ya see, if you'd let that woman out there know that she should let me talk to you, then—'

'I asked her to get a message from you, Mr. Rawlins. It is my understanding that you're looking for employment. I could set up an appointment for you through the mails …'

'I'm here to talk to Mr. Carter.'

'That's impossible,' he said. Then he stood up as if that would scare me.

I looked up at him and said, 'Man, why don't you sit down and get your boss on the line.'

'I don't know who you think you are, Rawlins. Important men don't even barge in on Mr. Carter. You're lucky that I took the time to see you.'

'You mean the poor nigger lucky the foreman take out the time t'curse'im, huh?'

Mr. Baxter looked at his watch instead of answering me. 'I have an appointment, Mr. Rawlins. If you just tell me what you want to say to Mr. Carter he'll call you if it seems appropriate.'

'That's what the lady out there said, and you go blamin' me for shootin' off my mouth.'

'I'm aware of Mr. Carter's situation; the ladies outside are not.'

'You might be aware of what he told you but you ain't got no idea of what I gotta say.'

'And what might that be?' he asked, sitting back down.

'All I'm'a tell ya is that he might be runnin' Lion from a jail cell if he don't speak to me, and real quick too.' I didn't exactly know what I meant but it shook up Baxter enough for him to pick up his phone.

'Mr. Carter,' he said. 'Mr. Albright's operative is here and he wants to see you … Albright, the man we have on the Monet thing … He sounds as though it's urgent, sir. Maybe you should see him …'

They talked a little more but that was the gist of it.

Baxter led me back down the hall but made a left turn before we went through the door that led to the secretaries. We came to a darkwood door that was locked. Baxter had a key for it and when he pulled it open I saw that it was the door to a tiny, padded elevator.

'Get in, it will take you to his office,' Baxter said.

There was no feeling of motion, only the soft hum of a motor somewhere below the floor. The elevator had a bench and an ashtray. The walls and ceiling were covered in velvety red fabric that was cut into squares. Each square had a pair of dancing figures in it. The waltzing men and women were dressed like courtiers of the French court. The wealth made my heart beat fast.

The door came open on a small, red-headed man who wore a tan suit that he might have bought at Sears Roebuck and a simple white shirt that was open at the collar. At first I thought he was Mr. Carter's servant but then I realized that we were the only ones in the room.

'Mr. Rawlins?' He fingered his receding hairline and shook my hand. His grip felt like paper. He was so small and quiet that he seemed more like a child than a man.

'Mr. Carter. I came to tell you—'

He put up a hand and shook his head before I could go on. Then he led me across the wide room to the pair of pink couches that stood in front of his desk. The desk was the color and size of a grand piano. The great brocade curtains behind the desk were open to a view of the mountains behind Sunset Boulevard.

I remember thinking that it was a long way from vice-president to the top.

We sat at either end of one of the couches.

'Drink?' He pointed at a crystal decanter that held a brown liquid on an end table near me.

'What is it?' My voice sounded strange in the large room.

'Brandy.'

That was the first time I ever had really good liquor. I liked it just fine.

'Mr. Baxter said that you had news from that man Albright.'

'Well, not exactly, sir.'

He frowned when I said that. It was a little boy's frown; it made me feel sorry for him.

'You see, I'm a little unhappy about how things are going with Mr. Albright. As a matter of fact, I'm unhappy about almost everything that's happened to me since I met the man.'

'And what's that?'

'A woman, a friend of mine, was killed when she started asking questions about Miss Monet and the police think I had something to do with it. I've been mixed up with hijackers and wild people all over town and all because I asked a couple'a questions about your friend.'

'Has anything happened to Daphne?'

He looked so worried that I was happy to say, 'The last time I saw her she looked just fine.'

'You saw her?'

'Yeah. Night before last.'

Tears welled up in his pale, child's eyes.

'What did she say?' he asked.