Duffy put the note-book back in his pocket. “Maybe I’ll get a line on it later,” he said.
The waiter brought the rum and set it down on the table with a crisp bang. Sam said, “This joint’s changed.”
The waiter glanced at him. “Buddy,” he said, “it’s early yet.”
Sam turned to Duffy. “See?” he said; “it’s early.”
“Okay, it’s early. Let’s grab a couple of girls, and show them how it’s done.”
There was no one dancing on the floor. Sam poured himself out a shot of rum and drank it hurriedly. “Heck!” he said, “I believe I’m nervous.”
Duffy looked at him. “You’re kidding yourself, you want to get stewed.”
Sam got up from his chair and wandered across the room to the pen. He stood looking at each girl carefully, until they began to giggle at him. He found a blonde that pleased him and he began to rush her round the empty floor. Duffy picked his girl from where he was sitting, then he went over and dated her up. She was a chestnut red, with a pert little nose and a big, humorous smile. She had a plump, hard little belly that he could feel against his vest. He thought she was cute.
Duffy could dance when he liked, and the rum had made him fairly happy. He swung her round in big smooth circles, and she just seemed to float with him. They didn’t say a word through the dance, but when the band cut out, he said, “You’re good.”
She gave him her flashing smile. “You ain’t so bad either.” She’d got an accent like a heap of tins being tossed downstairs.
He said, “Come on over and get tight.”
Sam was already there with his blonde. Duffy fancied she smelt, and he sat away from her. Sam liked her a lot. He was showing signs of considerable interest.
Duffy said, “You girls like rum?”
They both began to protest. They wanted champagne.
Sam shook his head. “Listen,” he said. “We’re God’s gift to womanhood; if rum won’t keep you, you can both take a walk.”
Duffy said it was okay with him too.
So they had rum.
The place was crowding up. People kept squeezing between tables. One big chestnut, with large curves, tried to pass Sam, but she couldn’t quite make it. Sam looked up, gaped and said, “Hi, Bill! It’s the covered wagon.”
Duffy started to sweat. He guessed Sam was getting drunk.
The chestnut screwed her head round and took a look at Sam, then she laughed. “You’re cute,” she said.
Sam got up and made an elaborate bow. “Sister,” he said, “you’ve got it all.”
The chestnut squeezed by, now that Sam stood up. Her escort, a little runt, glared at Sam, who raised two fingers of his right hand.
Duffy said, “Can’t you behave yourself?”
Sam looked grieved. “She liked it,” he said.
His blonde was looking across the room, tapping her foot. She was annoyed.
Duffy said to the girl with the big mouth, “Let’s dance.”
When they got on the floor he said, “Olga ain’t here tonight?”
She looked up at him, a little frown creasing her brow. “Olga?” she said.
“Sure, Olga Shann. I’d like to meet her again.”
“She’s not here tonight.”
Duffy said, “Hell, I wanted to talk to that dame.”
They danced in silence for several minutes, then he said, “Would you like to earn twenty bucks?”
“It’s going to cost you a lot more than that.”
Duffy said, “We’re on a different set of rails. I’m offering you twenty bucks for Olga’s address.”
She looked disappointed. “Gee!” she said with a pout, “I thought we were getting on fine.”
“I’m out on business. I just gotta talk with her.”
She went the length of the room before she said, “I’ll get it for you.”
At the end of the dance she left him. Duffy glanced over at Sam, who was making up to his blonde, so he turned into the toilet. He ran the water and washed his hands. The toilet was empty. It was a small room with cracked tiles half-way up the walls. He dried his hands and dropped the towel into the basket. The door pushed open and a tall man came in. The first thing Duffy noticed about him was his hair. It was jet black, with a broad white streak, running from his forehead to his right ear. It gave his hard face a look of distinction. He wore a close- clipped moustache, and his skin was grey.
Duffy just glanced at him, then made to walk out of the room.
The man said, “Wait a minute.”
Duffy paused. “You speaking to me?” he said, surprised.
The man held out his hand Duffy looked and saw he .. was holding a .25 automatic.
“You just bought it or something?” Duffy said, suddenly very cautious.
“You got the note-book on you, hand it over.” The man had a curious voice. It was deep-pitched with a little buzz in it.
Duffy said, “I did have, but it’s in the mail now.”
Just then the door opened and Sam came in. The man put his gun away. He didn’t seem to hurry, but the gun just disappeared.
Sam said, “There you are.”
The man looked at Duffy. His pale eyes were very threatening. Then he walked out of the toilet.
Duffy said, “Who’s that guy?”
Sam shrugged. “Search me,” he said, “my girl might know.”
Duffy stepped to the door quickly and Sam, a puzzled look on his face, followed him. “Did you see that guy come out just now?” Duffy asked the blonde.
She said, “Sure I did. That’s Murray Gleason. Ain’t he cute?”
Duffy blotted his lace with his handkerchief. “I couldn’t say,” he said, “we were a bit shy with each other.”
Sam put his arms round the blonde. “Ain’t this a grand place?” he said. He was pretty drunk.
Duffy said, “I want to get out of here.”
A white-headed little guy came through the hall, heading for the toilet. Sam took the blonde over to him. “Take care of this baby,” he said. “Show her round. She’s learning in a big way.”
The blonde wrapped the little guy in her arms and began to cry. The rum had her all ends up. Duffy walked out with Sam. The little guy’s face was a picture.
Outside, Duffy said, “You’re just hell to go places with.”
Sam waved his hands. “I guess I’m a little tight,” he said.
They walked into the dance-hall again. Sam said suddenly, “Did that blonde smell a little, or is my nose wrong?”
Duffy said his nose was fine.
The girl with the big mouth was standing by the entrance looking for them. Duffy went over. “Did you get it?” he asked.
She nodded and gave him a slip of paper, on it was an address. Duffy gave her twenty bucks. She rolled the notes and tucked them in the top of her stocking. Sam leant forward with interest. “I’m having a swell time,” he said.
Duffy said to the girl, “I’ll be back one of these nights. We’ll have a fine time.”
She looked at him wistfully. “I’ve heard that before.”
Sam said, “You’re young yet. You’ll hear it dozens of times.”
They went downstairs into the street. Duffy stopped at the end of the alley.
“Go home, Sam,” he said. “Be careful how you drive.”
Sam blinked at him. “The fun over so soon?” he asked.
