doorway.
'A word of warning on tonight.' I looked back at him. 'These guys are here for the booze and the girls, for most of them you’re an unexpected bonus.'
'Nice to know you think I can improve on booze and girls.'
Bill’s smile looked like a threat.
'The inspector who’s retiring is nicknamed the Magician. I think you’re more in the way of an in-joke.'
'Good to be in.'
'Just remember this isn’t a kid’s birthday party. If I were you I’d keep it short and snappy.'
'Don’t worry, I know my place.'
'Good, always best to make sure everyone understands each other. I reckon they’ll be ready in about half an hour, so take all the time you need.'
'As long as it’s short of thirty minutes.'
Bill smiled.
'We don’t want people getting impatient.'
I’d expected the door girl to bring up the wine, but when the knock came it brought a familiar face.
'Sam?'
'The one and only.' Sam Rosenswest smiled. He slid himself and a tray holding two glasses, a corkscrew and a bottle of white wine into the room. 'How you doing?'
'Great.' I got to my feet and slapped him on the back. 'Good to see you, man.'
'Hey!' Sam raised the tray in the air, like a ship’s waiter serving through a squall.
'Watch the merchandise.'
I pushed the lamp on the small bedside table to one side and Sam settled the tray in the gap. 'So how are you?'
Sam started to work the corkscrew into the bottle’s cork and grinned.
'Never better.'
'Nice threads.'
He glanced at his suit.
'Yeah well,' Sam pulled the cork from the bottle and poured us each a glass. 'When in Rome.' He handed me my drink. 'How about you, William? Still a slave to the gee-gees?'
'You know me, always the animal lover.'
He shook his head.
'I’m not sure following form quite qualifies you as St Francis. Won’t keep you warm at night neither. You want to quit all that and get yourself hooked up with a nice bird.'
'That’s good advice coming from you.'
Sam grinned.
'You know what I mean. How’s old Fagin? You seen him lately?'
'He set me up with tonight.'
'Aha.' He sat down on the single bed opposite me and took a sip of his drink. 'That’s where you’re wrong. You’ve got old Sam-I-Am to thank for this particular box of tricks.'
'Yeah?' I tried to look grateful. 'Rich didn’t say anything.'
'Well he wouldn’t would he? Wants to make sure of his 10 per cent, greedy sod.'
'Cheers, Sam.' I raised my glass in a toast, then put it to my lips and took a sip. Its cheap sourness cut through the chill. 'Thanks.'
'No worries, you and me go way back.'
'And…?'
Sam laughed.
'You may not be a whizz with girls and horses…'
'You can add dogs to that.'
'Ah, William.' Sam shook his head, looking like a priest caught between sorrow at the sin and the satisfaction of being able to squeeze a few more ‘Our Fathers’ from the sinner.
'Despite all your weaknesses, when it comes down to it, there’s no flies on you. OK there might be a bit more to tonight than meets the eye. But you just sit tight and it’ll all come out cushty.'
Sam was a young comic who had also been under Rich’s tough love care. We’d spent a long summer season together until he’d decided he could do better under new management. I’d not seen him for a year, maybe longer. In that time he’d grown leaner, but in a sleek way. He chinked my glass and knocked back the last of his wine.
'I’d better shift myself. Bill’s got a jealous streak. He’s already suspicious about why I suggested you.'
