“Well, Miss Jackson,” I said, offering her a cigarette, “you’re Spencer’s secretary… right?”
She took the cigarette. “That’s right,” she said. “Don’t you write articles?”
I lit her cigarette and mine. “That’s how I keep the wolf from the door,” I said. “It’s a grand way to earn a livin’. I could tell you stories that would do things to you.”
“Well, perhaps one day you’ll tell me.”
That’s the way it went. Tossing flowers at each other all the way. For the first time since I reached the age I sat in a taxi and didn’t make a pass. Most dames are so dumb you had to get going or you’d die of boredom. Others think they’ve wasted their time if you don’t, but this baby was just worth looking at and saving it for a big occasion.
Sloppy Joe’s was pretty full when we got there, but the Greek head waiter saw me and waved from the far end of the room. We went down the aisle between the tables. I got a big kick out of the way the men stopped eating to get a gander at Mardi. Even those guys with their own molls had a quick side look.
The Greek was all over me. I’d given his eating-joint a good write-up every so often, and I fed on the house whenever I liked.
He had a table all right. Mardi gave him an amused smile as he bowed himself in half. I could see she was making a big hit with the old guy, and somehow that pleased me, too.
I saw him shoot me a quick look and I gave him a grin. “You’re lookin’ pretty good,” I said.
When we were seated, the Greek produced the bill of fare, that was as long as my arm. I looked at Mardi. “How hungry are you?” I asked.
She nodded. “Plenty.”
“How about a mushroom canape, and a Swiss steak with what goes with it to follow?”
“That sounds lovely.”
“Okay, make that twice, Nic,” I said, “and make it fast.”
She began stripping off her gloves. I kept my eyes on her fingers. No rings. I was surprised at my relief.
“Now, Mr. Mason, suppose you tell me all about it.”
I shook my head. “Don’t rush it,” I said, “I gotta get used to you.”
Again her eyebrows went up. “Don’t you think,” she said quietly, “we’d better talk business? I’m due back in an hour.”
Back came the Greek with the canape.
After he had fussed around a bit and made sure we had nothing to beef about, he took himself off. It gave me a little time to use my brain. “I guess I’ll put my cards on the table,” I said. I seemed to be wearing that phrase out. “Have you ever heard of a guy called Vessi?”
I saw her give a little start. She looked up quickly. Her eyes were full of questions.
“I see you have,” I cut in before she could say anything. “The guy who was executed the other night. Well, I’m interested in him and the story that is hanging to him. I was wondering if you could give me a line on him yourself?”
“I?” She was surprised. I told myself I’d drawn blank here. “But why should I give you any information? What information?”
I shook my head. “No, I guess I was wrong. Okay, forget it, will you?”
Her chin tilted. “No, I will not forget it,” she said. “What makes you think I could have told you anything?”
I saw she was getting a little fussed. I didn’t want to fall out with this baby… I liked her too much. I’d got to be careful, for all that. After all, she was Spencer’s secretary. I shook my head. “I’m sorry to have brought it up,” I said, “I was just bein’ too smart. You’re right. A girl like you wouldn’t know anything about it…. I guess I owe you an apology.”
She smiled. A little, determined smile. “That still doesn’t answer my question, does it?” she said.
I grinned back at her. “Don’t put me in a spot, sister,” I said. “I thought maybe I was going to get somewhere if I jumped it on you, but I see I was backin’ the wrong gee. I’d tell you all about it if I could, but for the moment I’ve got to keep this under my hat. Suppose you tell me how I can get in to see Spencer?”
The Swiss steak did a lot to break up the hostile atmosphere, but she wasn’t going to let me get away with it as easily as that.
She looked at me pretty straight. “You know, Mr. Mason, I don’t like this at all. You said you wanted to talk business. My business is to do with Fabrics. Then you start some story about a wretched gunman instead. Is this a cheap joke?”
I found I was getting flustered. This certainly was something new to me.
I said feebly, “This ain’t a joke. I’m dead serious, but I’m in a spot….”
She pushed back her chair. “In that case, Mr. Mason,” she said coldly, “I don’t think we need waste any more time.”
Another dame would have got herself smacked, but this baby had me jumping through hoops. I said urgently, “Don’t go, don’t walk out on me… I’ll come clean on this.”
She shook her head. “No… I think I’d better go.” But she made no move. Maybe she was the cutest of them all, but she was woman enough to be curious. I took a look over my shoulder to see how close the next table was, satisfied myself that no one could hear me, and dived right into the story. I gave it to her from the first gong to the last.
She sat with her hands in her lap, her eyes wide, her lips parted. I gave her the story with everything I had, and I held her to the last word. Sitting there, I thought she looked swell.
“Apart from the ten grand,” I concluded, “this frame-up interests me. It would make a swell story, and I always like to think the right guy gets the right punishment.”
She said, in barely a whisper, “But… but… Mr. Spencer… no, I can’t believe that….”
I shrugged. “I’ve never met the guy. At the same time, why the hell does he have a gunman? Why should a guy in Fabrics be mixed up with a thug like Katz?”
I saw her suddenly give a little shiver. “You know a little more about this than you’re lettin’ me think. Ain’t that right?”
She hesitated. Then she shook her head. “I can’t help you…. I’m his personal secretary…. You see that, don’t you?”
I scratched my jaw. “Yeah, I guess so,” I said doubtfully. “At the same time, baby, you gotta remember that this is a murder rap, and accessories don’t get much pity.”
She went a little white when I said this, but she again shook her head. “No, not now,” she said firmly.
“Okay,” I said. “Maybe later.”
The Greek brought the coffee and I gave her a cigarette. We sat there in silence, smoking. I wasn’t sure where I was going from here. I had hoped that something would have broken, but it seemed as tight shut as before.
“I guess I’d better look this Spencer guy over,” I said at last. “Maybe I’ll, get something out of him.”
Mardi fiddled with her coffee-spoon. “I wish you wouldn’t,” she said, without looking at me. “Don’t you think that it would be better to leave this business alone?”
I raised my eyebrows. I must say I was getting a hell of a lot of encouragement on this job. “I’ve gotta get into this,” I said. “Can’t you understand with a thing like this there’s a big angle as a story hanging to it? If I bust this thing, it’ll start a riot. I shall be the guy responsible. It’ll mean something then.”
“I don’t want to sound a crab,” she said, putting her hand suddenly on my sleeve, “but isn’t it a bit big? I mean… I don’t want you to think….” She stopped in confusion.
“Meanin’ I’m a small-town hick an’ might get a swell belly-ache if I bit this off an’ couldn’t chew it?” I grinned at her to show her I wasn’t mad.
She looked at me then, and her eyes were troubled. “No, I didn’t mean that quite,” she said. “But if what you have told me is true… isn’t it rather one-sided? Don’t you think you ought to have someone to back you, if you’re determined to go ahead?”