“Hell, no, when Mike Maschio says green, ‘ Marty Riggs says, ’and a deep dark green it is, sir. ‘ ” Salzman ate some haddock.
“But actually,” he said, “you’d be working for me.”
He looked up and got to his feet. “Here’s Jill,” he said.
I got to my feet. Jill Joyce, her black mink coat open, was swiveling through the dining room with Ray Morrissey a few feet back of her. Morrissey didn’t look very happy. He looked at me and I shot him with my forefinger. He nodded once and when Jill reached us, peeled off without a word and headed for the chow line. Salzman was holding Jill’s chair. She swivel-hipped around the table and sat in it and looked appraisingly at me from under her eyelids, slowly raising her head. Susan smiled and was quiet.
“Jill, you know Susan Silverman, our consultant. This is her friend that I mentioned to you, Mr. Spenser.
”Do you have a first name, Mr. Spenser?“ Jill said. She had a soft girlish voice with just a hint of huskiness at the edges. I told her my first name.
”I don’t like it,“ she said.
”I was afraid you wouldn’t,“ I said. ”I’ve been worried about it all month.“
A small frown line deepened momentarily between her eyebrows and went away.
”I’ll just make up a name for you,“ she said.
Susan’s inward smile was widening. She said softly, ”Boy, oh boy.“
Jill stared at her coldly, and then turned back to me.
”What shall I call you,“ she said.
”Cuddles,“ I said. ”Most of my closest friends call me that.“
”Cuddles?“
”Yes,“ I said.
”You seem to have awfully big shoulders for Cuddles. “
Everything Jill Joyce said was said in a sort of halfchildish lilt that implied sexual desire the way an alto sax implies jazz.
”Well,“ I said, ”we’ll think of something, I’m sure.“
”Sandy says you’re a dick,“ Jill Joyce said.
”Un hmm,“ I said with a straight face. Susan looked down at her salad.
”Are you going to help me, Dick?“ she said. When she said help she leaned a little forward and let a hand flutter near her mouth. Tremulous.
”Sure,“ I said. ”Tell me a little about what you need help with.“
A dark-haired guy wearing a tee shirt and an apron came over with a tray. The tee shirt said First Run Catering on it. The tray carried a bottle of white wine in an ice bucket and a wineglass. The darkhaired guy put the tray down, opened the wine bottle, poured half a glass, waited while Jill sipped it. She nodded and he picked up the tray and departed. Salzman said, ”Jill, let me fix you a plate.“
Jill smiled rather vaguely and nodded. Salzman got up and headed for the serving line. Her eyes never left me. From the corner of my eye I saw Susan pick up a leaf of red-tipped lettuce, inspect it carefully, and take a neat little bite from one edge of it. Jill finished the half glass of wine and looked at me. ”May I pour you some?“ I said.
”Oh, Dickie,“ she said, ”how sweet.“
I poured the white wine into her glass, waiting for her to say when or gesture with the rim that the glass was full enough. She did neither until I stopped because it was full. She drank about a third of it.
”So, Dickie,“ she said, ”you’re friends with, ah, this girl?“ She made a sort of groping gesture with her left hand and finally nodded her head toward Susan.
”I’m friends with that girl,“ I said.
”Good friends?“
”Good friends.“
”Sleep with her?“
”None of your business.“
Susan was still nibbling on her greens, but she looked less amused. I knew how much she enjoyed being referred to in the third person. Almost as much as she liked being called a girl. I paused, giving her a moment to kneecap Jill Joyce. Nothing happened.
”Ohh, Dickie,“ Jill said with her lilt getting more pronounced. ”No need to be snarky about it. A girl needs to know things.“
”So does a dick,“ I said. ”Tell me about these harassments you’ve been suffering.“
Salzman came back with a dinner plate on which, carefully arranged, were small portions of nearly everything on the serving line. He put it down in front of Jill and slipped into his seat. Jill looked at the plate with distaste and drank more wine.
”I don’t wish to discuss it in front of her,“ Jill said. Susan looked at her quietly for a long moment.
”Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy,“ I said softly.
