We looked at each other, then he shut the door and came further into the room.
“You’ve got a swell library, Peppi,” I said, saying the first thing that came into my head.
“Who put it together for you?”
He stroked the side of his nose with his thumb. That was something new. In the old days, Peppi hadn’t time to affect mannerisms. “What do you want?” His voice was high pitched and soft. Rather like the tones of a Jap and the sound of it brought back a host of memories. I’d forgotten that high pitched, hissing voice.
“What a success story,” I said, admiring him. “I remember you a couple of years ago. And look at you now!”
“What do you want?” he repeated.
I paused and regarded him. The dead pebbly eyes told me that this wasn’t going to be a love feast, so I decided to get to the point.
“Where’s Kelly?” I asked.
“Kelly?” he repeated and frowned. “What Kelly? What are you talking about?” There was a thin edge of anger in his voice.
“There’s a fellow called Kelly I want to get in touch with,” I said, half sitting on the big oak reading table. “I hear he wanted to find you, so I thought if you two had made contact you wouldn’t mind putting him in touch with me.”
He studied me carefully. “I don’t know any Kelly,” he said, at last.
I shrugged, “Well, that’s too bad. Okay, then I’ll drift. I was under the impression that you did.”
“What do you want him for?” The question suddenly shot out like the forked tongue of a snake.
“I wouldn’t take up your time,” I said, pushing myself away from the table. “It’s nothing that’d interest you.”
He said, “Don’t go. Sit down.” There wasn’t any invitation in his voice. It was an order. Well, I had nothing to lose, so I sat down in a big armchair and relaxed.
He fidgetted with the cord of his dressing gown and I could see he was thinking about something.
“You’ve left the Recorder?” he said abruptly.
I inclined my head, “Yep,” I said. “Maddox tossed me out. That’s gratitude, after all…”
“What are you doing now?” he broke in.
“Living on my wits and capital,” I said carelessly. “I’ll get by. Why the interest?”
“I could give you something.”
I looked at him. The frog-like face, the blue stoney eyes, the bald glistening head told me nothing. All the same, I didn’t like it. I knew the kind of racket Peppi went in for. It wasn’t my line, but I had to be careful how I told him.
“I’m not looking for anything right now,” I said slowly.
“It’s a good job,” he said simply and sat down in an armchair opposite me. “There’s nothing you wouldn’t like.”
I made grunting noises. “What would it be?” I asked.
“Lu Andasca is running for election,” he said. “He wants someone to handle his publicity. It’s worth two hundred and fifty dollars a week for the right man. You could do it.”
I was startled. “Lu Andasca?” I said, “I don’t know him.”
“He’s all right,” Peppi said, examining his neat finger nails. “He’s fine.”
“What makes you think I could do it?” I asked, playing for time.
“You could do it,” he repeated. “Two fifty dollars isn’t bad, is it?”
“It’s swell,” I said, “but, right now I’ve got one or two things…”
“I wouldn’t bother about those things,” Peppi said carefully.
We looked at each other.
“After all, what do they amount to?” he went on “Shumway wouldn’t interest you. He’s an old man and finished. Kelly wouldn’t interest you. He’s a crum. Leave the girl alone. You don’t want girls. They mess up the works.”
Well, that was telling me. I didn’t know what to say.
He sat back in his chair and stared up at the ceiling, “If Andasca gets in, there’ll be a lot of work to do,” he said. “I’m interested personally.”
I took a quick gander at my watch. It was nearly lunch time. “Look,” I said, “I’ve got a lunch date. Will you let me think it over?”
“There’s plenty of time. I’ll get my chauffeur to drop you. Where are you going to eat?” I said “Manetta’s” without thinking.
“I see,” he said. “Do you think she’s good looking?”
I stared at him “Her?” I said. “What…?”
“Myra Shumway. She’s your date, isn’t she?”
“What do you know about Myra Shumway? What’s the idea, Peppi?” I sat up. He was talking too many riddles.
“Excuse me a minute,” he said and got up and went out. I sat there wondering what the hell it was all about. Then he came back after a minute and smiled for the first time. “So you want to think it over?” he said.
“Now look, Peppi,” I said, “what do you know about Myra Shumway? Let’s get this straight.”
“I read the newspapers,” he said indifferently, “I hear things. I always hear things. Andasca is more important to me. Can you say yes or no?”
I stood up. “Give me until to-morrow. Where can I meet the guy?”
“To-morrow then,” he said. “Call me. I’ll fix a meeting. You want my car?”
I shook my head. “No,” I said, “I’ll take a taxi.”
He suddenly seemed bored with me and anxious for me to go. “Then you’ll cal. Two fifty is worth thinking about,” and he went out of the room.
He hadn’t been gone three seconds before the butler came in. “This way, sir,” he said and took me downstairs to the front door.
I was on the street and the door was closed behind me before I could collect my bewildered wits. I stood staring up at the big house and I felt someone was watching me.
So I waved to a cab and told the driver to take me to Manetta’s.
Chapter TWELVE
THERE was no sign of Myra when I got to Manetta’s, so I went into the bar.
“I’ll have a mint-julep,” I said to the barman. “And listen, I belong to the crushing school. Don’t just soak the mint leaves, crush ’em. Do you get it?”
“We always crush them here, sir,” the barrnan said, smiling, “and we wipe the rim of the glass with mint as well.”
“That’s fine,” I said, “I don’t have to tell you anything, but there are guys who soak their mint.”
“They’re just ignorant, sir,” he returned and went to the end of the bar to fix my drink. I lit a cigarette and thought about Peppi. I just couldn’t make out why he had offered me a job. Knowing Peppi I guessed there was something behind. It all and I wouldn’t mind laying a bet that he knew Kelly and that Kelly had been to see him.
While l was thinking, a girl came in. A girl in a flame coloured silk dress that reached an inch below her knees. Across her shoulders she wore a white silk scarf-handkerchief with large red spots and her cute little hat of red and white felt was perched on the side of her head in a saucy tilt.
It was Myra.
And yet, somehow, I didn’t recognize her for a moment. There was something in the way she moved and an unfamiliar expression in her eyes that made her almost a stranger to me.
As soon as she saw me she waved, smiled and came over.
“There you are,” she said. “Have I kept you waiting?”
