I said “Yeah,” and gave myself another drink. “Suppose you cut out the sympathy and bend your brains on this. Can't you give me a lead on the blonde?”
Ackie shook his head. “What do you take me for? Think I know all the blondes in town?”
I said slowly, “It wouldn't be Vessi's moll, would it?”
Ackie looked suddenly uncomfortable. “Listen, Nick,” he said, “I like you, but I've got to keep out of this... do you understand? You go ahead if you want a funeral on your hands, but you've gotta keep me out of it.”
“All right, all right,” I said, “Forget it. I'll look into this on my own.”
Ackie nodded. “You're the sorta guy who might crack this without gettin' hurt.”
A nice line in comfort this guy had got, I thought. I looked at my watch. It was getting on for lunchtime. “Okay, Mo,” I said, “I'll be seeing you.” I left him giving himself another rye.
I stood on the kerb thinking. It was a theory of mine to take the fight always to the other guy. I was not quite sure if I was going to be right this time. Maybe I'd start something that I couldn't finish. I didn't know. Then I thought I might as well go ahead and see what happened, so I signalled a taxi and told the driver to take me to the Hoffman Building quick.
CHAPTER FOUR
THE TAXI TURNED me loose outside the Hoffman Building, and I took the elevator to the tenth floor.
The Mackenzie Fabric Corporation was some joint. The entrance was the finest exhibition for chromium wear I'd seen all in one spot, and, once inside, I nearly sank up to my knees in the pile of the carpet. The big reception lobby was as busy as a main-line railway station. At the far end I could make out the reception-desk, that was pretty near swamped by a crowd of shouting men, yelling to see Mr. Someone or other.
I stood inside the door, taking a look around. Every now and then a dame would come out of a room and flounce across the lobby. They were all hand-picked, and I began to think I wouldn't mind having a job of work here myself.
I wandered over to the desk. The mob was still struggling for attention. I stood watching them for a moment, then I took a match, struck it on the sole of my shoe and set fire to a newspaper one of the kikes had under his arm. I stood back and waited.
There was almost a riot when the paper flared up. While they were all trying to put the fire out, I got in front and asked the girl to put me through to Spencer's secretary.
She was also a smart jane. “Have you an appointment?” she asked, watching with half an eye the commotion going on amongst the kikes.
I was getting sick of this. “Listen, sister,” I said; “ring and tell whoever looks after Mr. Spencer's business that Nick Mason's outside, an' if I'm kept waiting much longer I'm going to get annoyed.”
She looked at me thoughtfully, making up her mind whether or not I was bluffing, then she decided I wasn't and rang through. I stood over her while she gave the message. She pulled the plug out. “Room 26, on your right,” she said briefly.
“Thank you, baby... I hope your dreams include me to-night.”
I went over to Room 26, knocked on the door and went in. It was a small room, obviously an outer office. A flat-top desk took up most of the space. The carpet was like grass, and there was one good painting of a nude on the wall. The nude held my attention for a second. It was the first thing you saw when you came into the room. I thought, after I'd taken a quick look, that if they were built that way these days the cushion trade would be shot to hell.
I got my eyes down to the desk. Sitting there was a dizzy-looking brunette. Now don't get me wrong about this girl. She wasn't Ritzy—she was the kind of girl you'd take home to your ma and not be nervous of starting a riot. She'd got a lot of soft brown hair and her eyes were large and brown. Her mouth was large and generous and her nose was small and cute.
“You'll pardon me,” I said. “That dame up there got me startled. I didn't see you.”
She smiled. “Mr. Mason?”
I put my hat on the desk and sat down. “Yeah,” I said, “Nick Mason. I want to see Lu Spencer.”
Her eyes opened a little. “Mr. Spencer's engaged. You can't see him without an appointment.”
I sat back and looked at her. I couldn't understand what this girl had got that interested me. She didn't make up much, she wasn't over-or under-dressed, and yet I thought she was swell.
She broke in on my thoughts. “If you'll let me know what you want to see him about, I might arrange it.”
I said, “It's a little involved, Miss... er... Miss....”
She didn't help, but just sat there, looking at me a little old-fashioned, and waited.
I got an inspiration. “Suppose you an' I go out and eat somewhere, an' talk it over.” I glanced at my watch. “It's just after one, so the time's right. I got a lot to say, and maybe you can tell me if Mr. Spencer's the right guy to see.”
I could see she was all set to say 'no.' At the same time, her eyes told me that I wasn't something out of cheese. She almost looked like she could be persuaded.
“Now don't be high-hat,” I pleaded. “Give me a chance to tell you all about it.”
She got to her feet. “Very well, Mr. Mason, let us go to lunch.”
Believe it or not, I was getting a kick out of this girl. Me, getting a kick out of a girl. I could hear forty
