Bugsey said, “That’s a swell job. Maybe he could do with a little help.”
Fenner said, “Where can you meet a guy like that?”
“Meet him? He gets about. He’s out a lot at Noolen’s Casino.”
“So, Noolen’s got a casino, eh?” Fenner said, looking at Bugsey.
Bugsey sneered. “Noolen’s the south-end of a horse.”
Fenner put his glass down on the counter. “I’m beginning to believe that,” he said, and putting his hand under Bugsey’s arm, he led him into the sunlight.
Noolen’s casino was close to Hemingway’s house at the corner of Olivia and Whitehead.
Fenner stopped his cab to get a look at the Hemingway house. Then he went on to the casino.
It was a hot evening, full of noise and river smells. The casino stood back in a landscape garden, with a half circular drive leading to the big double front doors. Double porches and arched windows, fitted with yellow slatted shutters, gave the big house a touch of distinction.
A lot of cars crawled up the drive, unloaded, and crawled on back to the street.
Fenner paid off his cab and wandered up the long flight of broad stone steps. The front doors were open, and he could see a brilliantly lighted lobby as he mounted.
There were two men standing by the door who looked at him hard. He put them down as Noolen’s muscle men. He went on through the lobby into a big room where two tables were in action. He wandered around, keeping his eyes open and hoping to find the girl on the boat.
He hadn’t been in the room five minutes before a short Cuban in evening dress came up to him. “Mr. Ross?” he said politely.
“What of it?” Fenner said.
“Will you come into the office a moment?”
Fenner smiled. “I’m here to enjoy myself,” he said. “What do I want in your office?”
The two men who had been standing at the door suddenly moved through the crowd and stood each side of him. They smiled at him, but the smile didn’t reach their eyes.
The Cuban said softly, “You’d better come, I think.”
Fenner shrugged and moved with him. They crossed the room, went out into the lobby and into a small room on the left.
Noolen was walking up and down, his head on his chest, and a big cigar clamped between his teeth. He glanced up at Fenner as he came in.
The Cuban shut the door, leaving the other two men outside.
Fenner thought Noolen looked in better shape. He seemed cleaner and his tuxedo suited him.
Noolen said, “What are you doin’ here?”
“This is public, ain’t it? What’s bitin’ you?”
“We don’t have any of Carlos’ mob in here.”
Fenner laughed. He went over and sat in a big leather arm-chair. “Don’t be a mug,” he said.
Noolen stood very still. “You better get out an’ stay out. . . .”
Fenner raised his hand. “Send the monkey away—I want to talk to you.”
Noolen hesitated, then he gave a sign to the Cuban, who went out.
“You’re not going to get anywhere being tough with Carlos,” Fenner said, stretching his long legs. “Why don’t you get wise to yourself?”
“What’s your game?” Noolen said. “There’s something about you I don’t trust...”
Fenner said seriously, “I don’t know. But string along. If my bet comes right, I may have to bust this town wide open. To do it, I might want you. I don’t like Carlos and I don’t like his racket. I think I’ll wash him up.”
Noolen laughed. “You’re crazy, Carlos’s big enough to smear you.”
Fenner nodded. “That’s how it looks, but that isn’t the way it’ll pan out You’d like to see that guy go, wouldn’t you?”
Noolen hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah,” he said; “but he ain’t goin’ in my lifetime.”
Fenner studied the toes of his shoes. “You got a mob if I wanted one?”
Noolen came and sat down. “I’ve gotta mob,” he said cautiously, “but they’re not in the same class. They’d be scared to start anything.”
Fenner grinned. “Not when Carlos starts to slip. That’s when your mob’s got to go to work.”
Noolen clasped his hands. There was a long silence while he brooded. Then he said, “You’re playin’ a tricky game. Suppose I have a little talk with Carlos.”
Fenner shrugged. “Why should you? You’ve got everything to gain by just sittin’ on your can waitin’ for me to clean up the town.”
“Okay. Then go ahead. I’ll come in when I see you gettin’ somewhere. Don’t think you’re going to clean my territory, because you ain’t. One move from you I don’t like, an’ I’ll clamp down on you.”
Fenner got to his feet. “We won’t worry about that for a little while,” he said. “There’ll be plenty of time to take care of that angle later.”
Noolen looked up at him suspiciously. “I don’t trust you, Ross, you’re too cagey.”
“Who’s Thayler?” Fenner asked abruptly.
“Thayler? What’s he to you?” Noolen’s eyes were suddenly hot and intent.
“Saw his boat this afternoon. Swell job. Heard he came out here. Thought I’d like to look him over.”
Noolen got up and walked to the door. “He’s out there now.”
Fenner followed him into the main hall. “Show him to me,” he said. “I want to meet him.”
Noolen wandered through the crowd, looked right and left, then said, “He’s playin’ on the third. The guy sittin’ next to the blonde twist.”
Fenner saw the girl. She looked fine sitting there. The soft light reflected on her red-gold hair, making deep shadows of her eyes and making her red lips glisten. She was wearing a black dress that fitted her too well.
Fenner said, “Who’s the frill?” He said it very casually.
“Glorie Leadler. She’s good, isn’t she? The best of her is under the table.” The blood had mounted in Noolen’s face, and his blue eyes were watery. Fenner looked at him curiously. Noolen went on, “You’ll have to wait if you want to meet Thayler. He won’t want to be interrupted.”
“That’s all right. This Leadler girl, what is she?” Noolen turned his head and looked at Fenner. “Why the excitement?”
“Why not? She’s a riot, ain’t she?”
Noolen sneered. “I’ll leave you for a little while. I’ve got things to do,” he said, and walked away.
Fenner looked after him, wondered what it was all about, and walked over to the small bar at the other end of the room. He ordered a rye and ginger and leaned against the bar. From where he stood he could just see Glorie’s head and shoulders. He looked at Thayler and studied him, a big man with a very sunburnt complexion and black crinkly hair. His china-blue eyes and his long thin nose made him look handsome.
When Fenner glanced at Glorie again he found she was looking at him. Fenner regarded her thoughtfully, wondering at the uncanny likeness. If this dame wasn’t Marian Daley’s sister, then he was a three-legged horse.
Thayler leaned over a little and spoke to her, and she started. Fenner couldn’t be sure, but he thought she had smiled at him. He thought maybe it had been a trick of the light, but it certainly had seemed that she’d given him a come-hither. He watched her closely, but she didn’t look in his direction again. He stayed there for several minutes, then he saw her speak to Thayler, and stand up. Thayler looked angry and put his hand on her wrist, but she shook her head, laughed at him and walked away from the table. Thayler screwed his head round to watch her, then turned back to the table again.
She came over to the bar. There were two other men standing close by, and the small Cuban manager. Fenner said, “Drinking alone is a vice. Will you have one with me?”
She didn’t look at him, but opened her small bag and took out a ten dollar bill. “I like vice,” she said softly, and ordered a gin sling. She stood with her back three-quarters to him. He could just see the lobe of her ear and the strong line of her chin.
Fenner finished his rye and ginger quickly and signaled the bartender for another. He studied her back thoughtfully, wondering. When the bar tender put his order down on the polished wood, and had gone away, he said, “Miss Leadler, I want to talk to you.”
