coffee table, leaned back, and took about a third of her drink.
'Talk,' she said. 'Tell me about your life.'
There were bruises on her ribs.
'I'm interested in finding this kid, April Kyle,' I said. She drank some more of her drink. Her face was empty. 'That's nice,' she said.
'There'd be a good reward.'
'Uh-huh.'
'What harm if I find her? Who cares? Why not help me?'
Her drink was gone. I got up and made her another one. When I came back she was looking at the picture of Susan on the bookcase.
'Yours?' she said, and pointed her chin at the picture. 'Yes.'
'Married?'
` No.' 'That why you just wanna talk?'
'One reason.'
'What else, I don't turn you on?' 'Oh, yeah, you get my attention sitting around with your ass sticking out.
It's just that I'm working, and I sort of need to concentrate on that.'
She nodded. 'And you don't like paying for it none, either.'
'Not too much.'
'How you know somebody like Hawk?'
'We used to fight on some of the same cards a long time ago,' I said:
'Hawk ain't nobody to mess with,' she said.
'How do you know I know Hawk?'
She took a long swallow. 'I heard,' she said. 'I heard you was with him.'
'Trumps give you those bruises?'
'Uh-huh.' She finished the drink and held the glass out. 'This is an easy two hundred, honey.'
I brought the gin and ginger ale and ice out on a tray and put them on the coffee table. I fixed her a fresh drink.
'Not too much ginger ale, honey. Don't want to spoil the gin.'
'So how come nobody wants me to find April?'
She smiled and drank and smiled again and shook her head.
'What's your name?' I said.
'Velma,' she said. 'Velma Fontaine.'
'Pleased to meet you, Velma. I'm Lance Cartaine.'
She squinted at me a little. 'Your name's Spenser.'
'Well, maybe.'
'You jiving me?'
'Just a little, Velma. It's a bad habit of mine. I tend to jive almost everybody.'
She drank some more gin and ginger ale. She liked it. I thought it would gag a skunk, but I never had any skill with gin anyway.
'You jiving with the wrong people now,' Velma said,
'Like who?'
She smiled again. And shook her head again. I was beginning to think better of Trumps for whacking her.
'You know where the kid is?'
'Maybe.'
I drank another sip of Rolling Rock.
'You don't believe me?' Velma said. Her glass was empty. She leaned over and made herself another drink.
I shrugged.
'She ain't anyplace you'll find her.'
I didn't say anything. Susan says that's my best conversational ploy. Velma drank her drink. It was mostly gin, one ice cube, a splash of ginger. 'She been bad.'
I nodded.
