I grinned. “Not in this burg,” I said, waving to the Greek. He beat me to the door and held it open.
“I hope,” he said, bowing in half, “you will bring the beautiful lady again.”
Mardi flushed, but I could see she was mighty pleased. I nodded. “You’ll be seein’ her again,” I promised.
I called a taxi. She turned to me. “I hope you won’t come back to the office,” she said quickly. “I hope you won’t do anything silly until you’ve thought about things. Find out who that woman is first.”
With a quick smile she climbed into the taxi, and I stood there and let her go.
From across the street, Earl Katz suddenly stepped from a doorway. He looked across at me, tossed a cigarette butt in my direction, and then walked slowly in the same direction as Mardi’s taxi had gone.
CHAPTER FIVE
I DIDN’T GET OFF to the Hotcha Club until late. After Mardi had left me, and Katz had made his unexpected appearance, I had a wander round and had a little brain exercise. It didn’t get me anywhere, but I did think maybe I’d wait a little while before exposing my hand to Spencer. Having a living to earn, I attended a ball game, went home and wrote it up, mailed it to a sports paper that took my stuff, and went out to dinner.
By the time I got through it was getting on for ten o’clock. It was a hot night, with stars and a big moon. I thought I’d go along and see if I could have a look at Vessi’s moll.
The Hotcha Club was one of those swell dives that look good but are pretty rank when you examine them close. I got a table in a corner, ordered a big rye high-ball, and passed the time with a newspaper.
The place was pretty crowded, and the dames were not all they should be. I had a little trouble with two of them, but when they saw I wasn’t playing they gave me the air. I sat around for a half an hour, but as I didn’t see anyone who really got me interested, I began to wonder what the hell I was doing there.
Finally, I gave the waiter the high sign that brought him over. He was a tall, miserable-looking guy with big, watery eyes and a blue chin.
I took a fin from my vest-pocket and began to play with it. His eyes fixed on it with interest.
“Listen, Buddy,” I said, “I’m looking for a dame who comes in here pretty often. Maybe you can tell me where I can find her.”
With his eyes still fixed on the note, he said, “Sure… who is she?”
“She’s called Blondie,” I said, “an’ she works a beat somewhere around.”
An oily smile settled on his face. I could see this was a pushover for him. “Sure,” he said, “I know her all right. She’s been in. I guess she’s workin’ right now.”
I pushed the fin over to him and he gathered it up mighty quick. “Where do I find her?” I asked.
“Corner of 10th.”
I got to my feet. “Thanks, pal,” I said.
He shrugged. “She’s a great dame,” he said, collecting my glass.
I paused. “So I’ve heard,” I said. “This is my first trip. Shall I find her easily?”
“Sure,” he said, “you’ll find her. A tall dame in black.” He grinned a little. “Blondie’s tough when she likes to be.”
I went out into the street. A tall dame in black. A feeling of excitement surged through me. I wouldn’t let my mind think for the moment. I’d wait and see this dame for myself.
The corner of 10th was deserted when I arrived. The whole street was in semi-gloom. The street lights were widely spaced and none of the shops carried lights. I thought it was a pretty poor place to find trade, but maybe she knew her job better than I did.
I stood on the corner and lit a cigarette. I stood there for five minutes. I knew it was five minutes because I was so fidgety that I kept my eyes constantly on my watch.
Then, just when I was losing patience, she came out of the gloom. I heard the slow click of wooden heels some time before I saw her and I stiffened, throwing my cigarette into the gutter. Dimly I could see her, moving deliberately towards me, a tall, shadowy figure in black.
I half-turned towards her, so that she could have no mistake as to my intentions. I watched the white blur that was her face eagerly for the first glimpse of her features.
She saw me waiting there, and her step slowed. One hand went to her hip, and she put on a slight sway as she dawdled towards me.
When she was close, I smelt her. The same heady scent that I had smelt in my bedroom. I felt grimly elated; so this was the dame who’d lifted five grand off me.
“Hello,” she said, stopping at my elbow. She was nearly as tall as I was, and her big black hat screened her face. I could just make out her rather pointed chin and the sparkle in her eyes.
I said, “Hello, good-lookin’, how’s tricks?”
She gave that throaty, purring laugh that Mae West had made popular. “Are you coming home with me, darlin’?” she said, putting one gloved hand on my sleeve.
I grinned to myself. You bet I was going home with this floozie, and she was going to get a hell of a surprise when we got there.
“Sure,” I said, “I’ve been lookin’ for a baby like you all the evenin’.”
“Have you, darlin’?” She laughed again. I wished she’d lay off the ‘darlin’’ for a bit. I told myself she’d be calling me something different mighty soon. “Well, you’ve found a real bad girl….”
I said, “Let’s go….”
“It’s just here,” she said, waving her hand towards the end of the street.
We walked down the street, and she was the first dame I’d walked out with who kept in step. I said, for something to say, “That perfume you wear sure knocks me.”
“You like it, darlin’?”
There she went again. “Yeah,” I said. “It sortta hangs around, doesn’t it? I bet you leave quite a trail wherever you go.”
She missed a step and her right foot went with my left. I changed, to get it right. “What a funny boy you are, darlin’,” she said, looking at me quickly from under her hat.
“Yeah,” I said, “crazy as a bug.”
She stopped outside a door next to a small all-night eating-house. Dimly I could see a little brass plate screwed on to the door. I struck a match and read, ‘Andree Kersh’.
“My, my,” I said, “so you put your name on the door.”
“Of course, darlin’.” She fumbled with her bag and found a key. “When you come again, I want you to find me easily.”
I thought this dame was mighty good at kidding herself. The next time I called on her, she’d greet me with a flat-iron.
I followed her up a short flight of stairs, past the lobby of the eating-house, up some more stairs, past two doors, also with brass plates, and up some more stairs still.
She came to a small landing and again opened a door. “Here we are, darlin’,” she said.
I stepped into the room. One of those small joints. You open the front door and step into a double bed. The room was all bed.
I wedged myself round her and got to the far end of the room. The bed divided us. I had to admit she’d taken a lot of trouble in fixing the room. It had a lot of neat little gadgets, and some of the pictures she’d got hanging on the wall even made me take a look.
I said, “You’ve got a swell apartment here, ain’t you?”
She pulled off her hat and fluffed up her blonde hair. We took a look at each other. I’ll give her this. She hadn’t the usual hard, gimme face of the streetwalker. She would have been quite a looker if her chin wasn’t so pointed. That rather hardened her face, but for the rough work she was all right. If I hadn’t been sitting with Mardi for an hour, I guess this floozie would have interested me more than somewhat.
I tossed my hat on a peg and grinned at her. She had given me one long, searching glance, summed me up, and her smile back was full of things to come.
