‘Sorry.’ He groped for his glass, found it and held it close to his chest. ‘Mr. Sladen, this is very interesting. What makes you imagine for one moment that I want to take you to the Golden Apple tonight? I don’t want to sound boorish, but let’s be reasonable about this. I met you for the first time yesterday, and now you are suggesting I should take you to the most expensive dive on the coast and spend my good money on you. Don’t take offence, Mr. Sladen, but when I go out and spend my money recklessly I like to spend it on a girl who will be duty bound to pay off in return. See what I mean?’
I laughed.
‘Sure, that’s the way I like to do it too, but this is business and important. I have reason to think Frances Bennett has been murdered.’
He spilled some of the whisky on his dressing gown, but he didn’t even notice.
‘Murdered?’
‘Yes. It’s important I get into the club and take a look around. You’re the only person I know in town who is a member. You’ll be doing the police a service if you’d take me in tonight.’
He stared down at the carpet while he thought. The process seemed to be painful to judge by his screwed up expression.
‘Someone belonging to the club kill her?’ he asked.
‘It’s possible.’ I was on the point of asking him for a description of Royce but decided against it. He would probably jump to the conclusion that I thought Royce had killed the girl. If he spread that rumour I knew I would be in real trouble.
‘No point in me taking you to the club, Mr. Sladen,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘It wouldn’t be good for you nor for me. I’ll tell you why. I go to the club pretty often, but I’ve never taken a man there as my guest. Not once. There’s a guy on the door who’s about the toughest egg I’ve ever run into. If you don’t want to look suspicious, you won’t go to the club with me.’
‘But it’s urgent,’ I said. ‘If it wasn’t I wouldn’t bother you.’
He thought some more, then snapped his fingers.
‘I’ll fix it for you. I’ll ask Suzy to take you,’ he said. ‘She’s a member, and she’s always taking her boyfriend’s there. How would that work?’
‘It’d be okay with me, but I had the impression she didn’t take to me. I don’t think she’d play.’
Lennox waved an airy hand.
‘You’re kidding yourself. You don’t know Suzy. She’ll take you. She’s always on the lookout for something new in trousers. You leave it to me. I’ll fix it. Have you any spending money?’
I stared at him.
‘Why sure. Is it going to cost me something?’
He laughed unpleasantly; a sound that would have made Fayette’s blood run cold if he could have heard it.
‘That’s one of the greatest understatements I’ve ever heard. Cost you something? I’ll say it will. You don’t take Suzy out unless you’re prepared to sell up your home, hock your car and empty your bank balance. That’s why I see her here. I can’t afford to take her out.’
‘Go ahead and fix it,’ I said recklessly. ‘What do I have an expense sheet for?’
‘Now you’re talking,’ he said and reached for the telephone.
III
The entrance to the Golden Apple club was guarded by high walls and a couple of beefy men in white drill uniforms and black peak caps.
They stood either side of the open double wrought iron gates. Above them were two powerful flood lamps that lit up the road and the cars that moved slowly past the guard’s scrutiny.
‘They take good care they don’t get gate crashers here, don’t they?’ I said to Suzy who sat at my side.
‘My dear man, this is an exclusive club,’ she said. ‘We don’t want anyone who is nobody in it.’
I suppose that should have been a compliment to me, but I felt like slapping her. Snobbery of any kind makes my hackles rise.
I slowed down to a crawl as the cars ahead crept forward at a snail’s pace while the drivers waved their membership cards out of the open window.
I looked at Suzy from out of the corner of my eye. She certainly was something to look at. She had on a gold lame evening dress; over it she wore a black silk, scarlet lined wrap. Around her lovely white throat was a diamond collar that must have cost someone a heap of jack.
Hartley had told her I was a wealthy businessman from New York, foot loose, with plenty of money to spend. The introduction appeared to be interesting enough to make her forget her first opinion of me, and although I couldn’t say she was exactly cordial, she was at least fairly sociable.
As I came within sight of the gates, one of the guards came up, and I stopped the car. He peered in, his hard, cold eyes going over me with the intensity of a blow lamp.
‘Hello, Hank,’ Suzy said. ‘It’s only me.’
The guard touched his cap.
‘Okay, miss, go right ahead.’
He again stared at me, then stepped back and I drove on though the gateway and up a long, curving, sand covered drive.
‘He’ll know me again,’ I said.
‘Of course. That’s his job. He never forgets a face. Are you going to become a member? I’ll put you up if you like.’
‘I don’t know how long I’m staying in Tampa City, but thanks for the offer. If I have to stay longer than I think I’ll be glad if you would.’
A sudden sharp bend in the drive brought me my first sight of the Golden Apple club. It was quite something. Floodlit, the building reminded me of Addison Mizner’s Everglades Club in Palm Beach. Looking more closely at it, I saw it was a pretty fair imitation of the famous Palm Beach club. It was a stucco building with a red tiled roof, medieval turrets and wrought iron grill work in the style of a Spanish monastery. It was pretty obvious someone had spent a lot of money on it at one time or the other. A plush, purple carpet ran down the shallow steps from the lighted entrance hall to where the cars were decanting their occupants.
Everyone getting out of the cars looked well fed, rich and immaculate. Diamonds glowed like fireflies. I could see if you couldn’t rise to a string of diamonds you had best keep away from this joint.
‘Where’s the car park?’ I asked.
‘My dear man, they’ll take the car,’ Suzy said with a touch of impatience.
‘Forgive me: I’m just a New York hick,’ I said.
We left the car in the hands of a uniformed attendant and walked up the carpeted steps into the hall.
A big thickset man in an immaculate tuxedo appeared from nowhere and barred my way. His hard, cruel face looked as if it had been carved out of old ivory. His black still eyes had a glitter in them that reminded me of naked knife blades. He looked Spanish, but could have been Mexican or even Cuban. He looked questioningly from me to Suzy.
‘Good evening, Juan,’ Suzy said, obviously suddenly anxious to please. ‘This is Mr. Sladen. I’ve brought him along to see the club. He’s from New York.’
‘Will you please sign the book, Mr. Sladen?’ he said in a voice you could scour rusty iron on. There was no welcoming smile. He seemed sorry he had to admit me.
He led me across the hall to a reception desk where a girl in a tight black silk dress offered me a quill pen and a cool, appraising smile.
I signed my name, using my initial and not my full name just in case this dago was a reader of Crime Facts.
‘Ten dollars please,’ the girl said while Juan stood close, his warm breath fanning the back of my neck.
‘Ten - what?’ I said, staring at her.
‘Ten dollars, Mr. Sladen, for your temporary membership card,’ Juan said curtly.
I remembered in time that I was supposed to be a wealthy businessman from New York and I paid up. I was
