WHEN MCGUIRE GOT in from work, he found Duffy and Alice in the kitchen. Duffy was standing over the stove, a heavy frown on his face, watching a large steak grilling.
McGuire took one look at him and said, “For God’s sake, he’s been at it again.”
Alice looked up with a mischievous smile. She was peeling potatoes at the sink. “He won’t say a word.”
Duffy scowled. “For the love of Mike, pipe down,” he said. “What if my girl friend did get tough?”
McGuire shook his head sadly. He leant himself up against the wall. “I never met such a guy,” he said. “Can’t you take care of yourself once in a while?”
Duffy said, “Know the Plaza Wonderland Club?”
Sam shot a look at Alice. “I’ve heard of it.”
Alice said, “I knew you would. You know all the low clubs.”
Sam protested. “You got me wrong there,” he said violently; “I’ve never been there. I just heard of it from the boys.”
“I know.”
Sam groaned, “She’s always imagining things,” he complained to Duffy. “As if I’d be seen dead in one of those burgs.”
“You’re going to this one tonight,” Duffy said, turning the steak carefully.
Sam cocked his head. “Is that so?” he said. Again he looked at Alice.
She shrugged. “I suppose I’ll have to say yes,” she said.
Duffy went over and gave her a pat. “Be nice,” he said. “This is strictly business. You got to stay home.”
“You men,” she said, but she wasn’t mad. Duffy knew she’d take it all right. She was like that. “Don’t get him into trouble,” she said, looking at Sam.
“Me?” Sam laughed. “I like that. Get him into trouble? It’s me that’s going to run into that, I bet.”
Duffy shook his head. “You’re just window-dressing,” he said. “You’ll see.”
After the meal, McGuire pushed his chair back and looked inquiringly at Duffy. “You want to get going?” he said.
Duffy nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “Might as well.”
Sam lit a cigarette and went over to get his hat. He slapped it on the back of his head and turned to Alice. “We ain’t going to be late,” he glanced at Duffy, who shook his head. “Keep the bed warm for me, honey.”
She raised her face to his for a kiss, and Duffy looked on with approval. “You must’ve been screwy to marry a tramp like that,” he said to Alice.
Sam grinned. “There was a shortage of men at the time.”
Alice threatened him with a roll of bread, and he ducked out to get the car.
She said in a small voice, “You’ll be careful?”
Duffy turned his head, and said with elaborate astonishment, “Why, sure, we’re going to have a good time.”
She got from her chair and walked over to him. “Save it, Bill. You’re poking your nose into this murder business.”
Duffy shrugged. “This won’t amount to much,” he explained. “I’ve got a line on Cattley’s girl friend. She might turn in some information. This business puzzles me. There is a lot I don’t get. Maybe I’ve been a bit hasty, hiding up that rat. I don’t know. This Annabel broad ain’t nice. She’s dangerous.”
“I wish you hadn’t anything to do with it. Sam’s worried too.”
Duffy put on his hat. “I gotta see it through now. Don’t you worry about Sam, I won’t get him into anything.”
“I’m worrying about you.”
“Forget it,” he pleaded; “it’s going to come out okay.”
She went with him to the door. “I don’t want to be a fuss.”
He patted her shoulder. “You’re swell,” he said. “It’ll be all right.”
He found Sam sitting at the wheel of a small tourer that had seen better days. Duffy climbed in beside him. “Where’s this joint, anyway?” he asked.
Sam let in the clutch with a bang, the car jerked forward, and then stalled. Duffy didn’t say anything, he was used to it. Sam pulled the starter, reversed the engine, and let the clutch in again. The car pulled away from the kerb, making a noise like a beehive.
“The Plaza?” Sam said; “it’s near Manhattan Bridge.”
“Know the place?” Duffy asked.
“Sure,” Sam said. “This is a hot joint. I used to go there a bit in the old days.” Sam always called the time he was single ‘the old days’. “It’s tough, and packed with hot pants. You wait.”
Duffy leant back. “Sounds all right,” he said.
Sam drove two blocks in silence, then he said, “You telling me the news?”
Duffy gave him a cigarette. “I looked up Cattley’s dump today. Annabel turned up. She was looking for something. She found it, and so did I.” He touched the scratches with his fingers and grinned. “I bet that honey’s as mad as a hornet right now.”
Sam swerved to avoid a big Cadillac, grabbed his handbrake and shouted, “You street pushover,” to the fat driver.
Duffy took no notice; he had driven with Sam before. “What did you find?” Sam asked.
“It’s a little note-book, full of ritzy names, and it don’t mean a thing to me.”
“So?”
“Yeah.” Duffy frowned at his reflection in the driving-screen. “It’s important. I know because I had to get tough with Annabel to get her to part. That dame scares me. She ain’t normal.”
“I thought you liked ’em that way.” Sam looked at him in surprise.
“Watch the road, dimwit,” Duffy said shortly. “You ought to see that dame. When she gets mad, she foams at the mouth.”
“Yeah?”
“She tried to knock me off,” Duffy said. “She’s screwy. There can’t be any other answer.”
Sam went past the City Hall slowly, then he swung into Park Row and pushed the pedal down again. “She needn’t be nuts to want to knock you off,” he said. “Suppose we stop for a drink?”
Duffy glanced at the time. It was barely nine o’clock.
“You’ll get a drink when we get there,” he said.
The Plaza Wonderland Club was situated on the second floor, over a hardware store. The entrance was down an alley, lit with neon lighting. They parked the car and walked up the alley and went in. At the top of the stairs tickets were being sold for the taxi-dancers. Duffy bought half a dozen, then they pushed aside the bead curtains and went into the hall.
There was nothing original about the place. It was dirty and shabby. The dance floor was small, and you had to step down to get on to it. Round the floor, tables were crammed together, and at the far end the girls sat behind a pen. Sam looked across the room at them and thought they were a pretty swell bunch.
There were very few people at the tables. Just a handful. They all looked up as Duffy squeezed himself past the tables and got on to the floor. They watched him cross the floor, with Sam behind him, and select a table against the wall, opposite the entrance. He sat down and Sam took the other chair.
The band of three were playing swing music without much enthusiasm. They plugged away, staring with vacant eyes into space.
“You call this a hot joint?” Duffy said.
“Maybe the depression’s hit ’em,” Sam said.
Duffy made frantic signs to a waiter, who came over to them with a flat-footed shuffle.
“Let’s have a bottle of rum,” Sam said.
“Yeah.” Duffy thought that a good idea. “Make it a bottle of rum.”
The waiter went off. Duffy said, “Take a look at this,” he slid the little note-book across the table.
Sam picked it up and studied it carefully. After a little while he handed it back. “No,” he said, “that don’t mean anything to me. There’s plenty of money in that list. I’d say at a guess that little lot’s worth a million each. They all belong to the hot set, but that’s all I get from it.”
