‘Ahduyecominit?’ said Dover, as his dentures came together with a resounding click.
‘Eh?’
Dover regarded Joey wearily. Why was it that he always had to deal with the fools and morons of this world? ‘I said,’ he repeated slowly, ‘how do you come in it?’
‘How do I come in what?’ asked Joey, retreating smartly into thickheadedness.
Dover glowered at him. ‘ Well, you weren’t Hamilton’s probation officer or father confessor, were you?’
‘No,’ admitted Joey cautiously, ‘I wasn’t.’
‘For God’s sake!’ snarled Dover with mounting irritation. ‘I don’t have to spell it out for you, do I?’
‘Well,’ said Joey, trying to play it nonchalantly, ‘me, I was just a bystander, see? An innocent bystander. I retired up here about the time Hamilton was starting up this new racket. Arthritis it was, in my hands. Well, in my line of business it was the kiss of death, wasn’t it? Well, I decided to open this club, see? And that was an up-and-a-downer, if you like, but in the end I got my licence. Well, who turns up as one of my first bleeding customers but Sunny bleeding Malone. You could have knocked me down with a sledge-hammer, I knew him all right, and he knew me. I told him I was strictly on the level these days and he says so was he. All he wanted was somewhere quiet to meet his friends. Well, you know who his friends was. Before long, when Hamilton’s reputation had got around, I’d every villain worthy of the name for a couple of hundred miles around dropping in for a double Scotch and a quiet chit-chat with Hamilton. There was nothing I could do about it even if I wanted to. And why should I? They was all fully paid-up members, they weren’t breaking the law and they were good for trade. Most of my local customers come along in the afternoons, see, during office hours. They don’t have to make up any cock and bull stories for their wives, see, like what they would have to do if they come in the evenings. Hamilton’s cronies used to come at night. Well,’ – Joey waved a disgruntled hand – ‘you can see what it’s like now they don’t come. Like a bleeding cemetery!’
‘Oh?’ said Dover, inspecting the club morosely in his turn. The girls and the waiters stared reproachfully back at him through the gloom. Even MacGregor broke off the animated conversation he was having with Alicia to look questioningly at his lord and master. ‘I thought I was responsible for the falling off in trade.’
Sorrowfully Joey shook his head. ‘No, not really. There wasn’t more than a couple here when you turned up. We let ’em out the back way, same as usual. And I’ll dare bet Fred downstairs hasn’t turned away more than three of them since you’ve been here.’
‘Why turn ’ em away?’ asked Dover. ‘ It all looks harmless enough to me.’
Joey winked and grinned broadly. ‘Ah, well, there’s maybe a bit more than meets the eye, Mr Dover. I don’t keep a dozen of Fluffy Chicks sitting around just to look pretty, you know.’
‘Fluffy Chicks?’
‘I couldn’t have Rabbits,’ explained Joey bitterly. ‘Something about fringing some bleeding copyright. So I made’em Fluffy Chicks. Hadn’t you noticed? They’re all dressed up in chicken costumes and bleeding expensive they were, too.’
Dover peered round. ‘Oh, yes,’ he said doubtfully, ‘I see.’
‘Of course,’ Joey rested his chin on his hands, ‘those Bunny girls, they have all sorts of funny rules about them. Treat ’em more like they was Vestry Virgins than nipping tarts what’s there to take your mind off the bill. I don’t have any of that sort of nonsense here. Besides, if you ask me, I think it’s nasty – all those girls with fishnet tights and cleavage just for looking at. What sort of bleeding degenerates do they get there anyhow? It wouldn’t do for my customers, I can tell you. Whatever else they are, they have got red blood in their veins.’
Dover sighed. Neither Bunnies nor Fluffy Chicks sparked off a flicker of interest in him. The bench on which he was sitting was beginning to make its presence felt, even through the ample layers of flesh which protected the relevent part of Dover ‘s anatomy. It is highly possible that he would have chucked it in there and then if yet another dully glowing glass of whisky had not appeared before him. With the air of one sacrificing himself for the cause he picked up the glass. ‘What about Cochran?’ he asked. It was as good a way of passing the time as any.
Joey the Jock was showing signs of restlessness, too. It’s one thing to give the cops a warm welcome when they call, but quite another to go pouring drink down their fat throats for hours on end. And this podgy old slob wasn’t the world’s brightest conversationalist by a long chalk.
‘Cochran?’ said Joey. ‘That young flatfoot? Here, there’s a story going round that he jumped off Cully Point. That’s a turn up for the book, eh? Last person in the world I’d have thought would have done anything like that. What did he do it for? Suffering from some incurable disease, was he? Mind you, I can think of a couple that young fellow-me-lad could have picked up, but you can get treatment for ’em these days and it’s quite confidential.’
Dover eyed Joey the Jock with some amazement. Out of the mouth of fools, he thought, … still, it was an idea and one, as it happened, that had not occurred either to himself or to Clever
