Ripe, full-bodied, a living dream of pulsing pastel.
They looked at each other silently. Then, she turned slightly, pointing to an almost invisible bruise on her flank.
'See?' she said. 'That's what you did when you spanked my bottom.'
'Into each life,' Mitch said, 'some rain must fall.'
'Aren't you going to do anything about it?'
'Well, I might,' Mitch said, 'if I was sure you weren't one of those phony redheads.'
Red said he could surely see for himself that she wasn't, but Mitch said it was not something that could be determined with the naked eye.
'Why, I knew a blonde one time who passed herself off as a brunette. Her boy friend was a coal miner, you see, and he was allergic to soap and water.'
Red made her eyes very large. 'My goodness gracious,' she said. 'Not to mention heavens-to- Betsy. So there's no way of knowing whether I'm a phony or not?'
'Well, yes there is,' Mitch said. 'It's a method I've developed over the years, and I've enjoyed every minute of it. How are you fixed for time?'
'Well, I don't have anything on tonight…'
'So you don't,' Mitch said. 'But I'm afraid tonight wouldn't be nearly enough. How about the next forty or fifty years?'
Red said oh, sure, she could manage that all right. What were forty or fifty years when the interests of science were at stake?
Mitch stood up and pointed firmly to the bedroom. 'Just step into my laboratory, madam. The tests will begin immediately, and I don't mean perhaps.'
15
Winfield Lord's reservation at the hotel had been for three days, including the day of his arrival. But perversely and for no apparent reason he remained for six. He made no attempt to reach Mitch. Quite possibly, with his long training in blanking-out, he did not remember being with Mitch. But that was only a possibility, not a certainty. It was also possible, where anyone as tricky as he was concerned, that he was merely biding his time, waiting for the proper moment to Spring one of the near-riots for which he was famous, or rather, infamous. Some brannigan that would attract the attention of the police and newspapers.
Mitch couldn't risk that, naturally. Neither could he risk the demand from Lord for another game. Even the thirty-three thousand was an uncomfortably large amount to take from such a character. Turkelson would have his neck out to there if he continued to play cashier for Mitch. You could always get bit by riding a good thing too far.
Lord kept pretty much to his suite, consuming great quantities of liquor, eating sparsely, receiving occasional visits from call girls and the house physician (in that order). Of necessity, then, Mitch and Red remained in their suite. Lord would forget them in time, if he hadn't already. For the present, they could not take the chance of encountering him.
This cooling out on a chump, of course, is routine in any hustle. Ordinarily, it would have been accomplished by jumping town. Since that was impractical here, they could only remain in hiding. Which, Mitch reflected, wouldn't have been at all hard to take normally. What was so tough about being holed up in a fancy penthouse with a beautiful doll and a big bundle of the green? Red thought it was just fine and dandy- and proved it by hardly letting him out of her sight. Mitch- well, Mitch would have thought it was fine too, if he could ever have stopped thinking for a moment about Agate. He had already broken one promise to the banker. Now, since more than two days had gone by, he had broken another. And Agate
knew things about him, things which could be very dangerous if he chose to reveal them.
Mitch doubted that Agate would be appeased by anything less than cash. But on the third afternoon, while Red was showering, he managed a quick call to him.
'All right,' the banker snapped, as Mitch began a hasty explanation. 'You couldn't get in. When can you?'
'Well, I'm not sure, Lee. I hope I can make it tomorrow, but-'
'Forget tomorrow, then. What about the next day?'
'Well, I-I-'
'Or the day after that?'
'Well-Lee, I just can't say for sure. But-'
'I know. You've got something big on the fire, and you want to keep me quiet until you can pull it off.'
'Aah, no, Lee! It isn't like that at all. I-'
Agate slammed up the phone. Mitch didn't bother to call him back. Nor would it have done any good if he had.
There was nothing to do but wait and worry.
The end of Lord's stay coincided with the weekend. Thus, it was Monday before Mitch could notify Agate that the fifteen thousand was waiting for him.
Agate seemed stunned to hear his voice on the phone. 'But-but I thought that-'
'Well, now you know you were wrong,' Mitch said. 'Same place, same time, okay? We'll have lunch.'
'Well, uh, I'm not sure that-uh-'
'You can have a drink with me if you're tied up for lunch. Or I can drop the dough off at the bank for you.'
'No. No, don't do that,' Agate said, and he seemed to sigh. 'We'll make it for drinks.'
They met at the same quietly luxurious restaurant they had lunched in the previous week. Mitch handed him an envelope, and he looked at it almost blankly for a moment. Then, he opened the flap, thumbed through the contents, and slowly raised his eyes again.
'Well?' Mitch said. 'It's all there, isn't it?'
'What?' Agate blinked. 'Oh, yes. Yes, it's all here.' He tapped thoughtfully on the table with the envelope. Then, his lips tightening peevishly, he added that Mitch was very late. 'Inexcusably late. You couldn't blame me at all if I'd blown the whistle on you.'
'Well, as long as you didn't,' Mitch shrugged.
'You just can't do things like this, Mitch.' Agate shook his head fretfully. 'You of all people should know that you Can't. You break one promise to me. Then, you come right back and break another one. You just let everything slide, and then you show up when you're damned good and ready and expect everything to be all right.'
'Isn't it, Lee?' Mitch said. 'Isn't it all right? If it isn't you'd better tell me right now.'
But Agate continued his nagging. He had to. It was a mask for the confusion, the uncertainty, the fear which teemed through his mind. It was a rationalization-an attempt to blame Mitch for his own betrayal. And how could he possibly tell the truth, anyway? He needed this fifteen thousand. He was terrified of what Mitch might do if he knew the truth.
'Well, Lee,' Mitch was saying. 'Isn't it all right? Does this square us up, or doesn't it?'
'Now, that's not the point,' Agate said doggedly. 'You've got to admit that-'
'Never mind.' Mitch gestured curtly. 'I can't sit here all day while you scold me. How much more do you want- two-fifty, five? I thought the fifteen was damned plenty, but I'll sweeten it if you say so.'
'Now, I said nothing about sweetening it,' Agate muttered. 'I didn't say a thing about wanting more money.'
'But you do want it, don't you?' Mitch studied him carefully. 'If you don't, what the hell is this all about?'
