When a girl named Suzy got off the Greyhound bus, she looked up and down the street, fixed her lipstick, then lifted her beat-up suitcase and headed for the Golden Poppy Restaurant. Suzy was a pretty girl with a flat nose and a wide mouth. She had a good figure, was twenty-one, five-feet-five, hair probably brown (dyed blond), brown cloth coat, rabbit-skin collar, cotton print dress, brown calf shoes (heel taps a little run over), scuff on the right toe. She limped slightly on her right foot. Before she picked up her suitcase she opened her brown purse of simulated leather. In it were mirror, comb with two teeth missing, Lucky Strikes, matchbook that said “Hotel Rosaline, San Francisco,” half pack of Peppermint Life Savers, eighty-five cents in silver, no folding money, lipstick but no powder, tin box of aspirin, no keys.
If there had been a murder that night Joe Blaikey could have written all that down, but now he wasn’t even aware that he knew it. Joe acted pretty much by instinct. He got into the Golden Poppy just as the waitress was putting a cup of coffee on the counter in front of Suzy.
Joe slipped onto the stool next to her. “Hi, Ella,” he said to the waitress. “Cup of coffee.”
“Coming up,” said Ella. “How’s your wife, Joe?”
“Oh, pretty good. Wish she’d get her strength back, though.”
“Takes it out of you,” said Ella. “Man can’t understand that. Give her a tonic and let her rest. I’ll have fresh coffee in a minute if you want to wait.”
“Yeah,” said Joe.
Ella went to the head of the counter, put coffee in the Silex, and filled the bowl.
Joe said quietly to Suzy, “What’s on your mind, sister?”
“Not a thing,” said Suzy. She didn’t look at him but she could see him in the shine of a malted machine behind the counter.
“Vacation?”
“Sure.”
“How long?”
“Don’t know.”
“Looking for a job?”
“Maybe.”
Ella started toward them, saw what was happening, and got busy at the other end of the counter.
Joe asked, “Know anybody here?”
“I got an aunt here.”
“What’s her name?”
“That your business?”
“Yep.”
“All right, I got no aunt.”
Joe smiled at her, and Suzy felt better. She liked a guy who was worried about his wife.
He said to her, “On the bum?”
“Not yet,” said Suzy. “You gonna give me trouble, mister?”
“Not if I can help it,” said Joe. “You got a Social Security card?”
“Lost it,” said Suzy.
Joe said, “It’s a tough town. All organized. Don’t work the street. The authorities won’t have it. If you need a buck to blow town, come to me. My name’s Joe Blaikey.”
“Thanks, Joe. But I ain’t hustling, honest.”
“Not yet, you ain’t,” said Joe. “It’s a hell of a town to get a job in since the canneries closed. Take it easy.” He stood up and stretched. “I’ll get the coffee later, Ella,” he said and went out.
Ella’s work seemed to be all done. She mopped the counter with a damp cloth. “Swell fella,” she said. “More coffee? Fresh is ready.”
“Seemed like,” said Suzy. “Yeah.”
Ella brought a fresh cup. “Where you staying?”
“Don’t know yet.”
“My sister rents rooms—pretty nice. Four dollars a week. I can give her a ring, see if she’s got one vacant.”
“I think I’ll look around town a little,” said Suzy. “Say, mind if I leave my suitcase here? It’s kind of heavy.”
“Sure. I’ll put it back of the counter here.”
“Well, s’pose you’re off shift when I come back?” Ella looked levelly at Suzy. “Sister,” she said, “I ain’t never off shift.”
Suzy looked in the store windows on Alvarado Street and then she went to the wharf and watched the fishing boats at their moorings. A school of tiny fish always lay in the shade of the pier and two little boys fished with hand lines and never caught anything. About four o’clock she strolled along deserted Cannery Row, bought a package of Lucky Strikes at the grocery, glanced casually at Western Biological, and knocked on the door of the Bear Flag.
Fauna received her in the combination bedroom and office.
“I’ll tell you the truth,” said Fauna, “business ain’t been good. It may pick up some in June. I wish I could put you on. Ain’t you got a hard-luck story that would kind of sway me?”
“Nope,” said Suzy.
“You broke?”
“Yep.”
“But you don’t make nothing of it.” Fauna leaned back in her swivel chair and squinted her eyes. “I used to work a Mission,” she said. “I know hard-luck stories from both ends. I guess if you laid all the hard luck I’ve heard end to end, why, the Bible would look short. And some of them stories was true. Now, I could make a guess about you.”
Suzy sat silent—posture, hands, face, noncommittal.
“Lousy home,” said Fauna. “Fighting all the time. Probably you wasn’t more than fifteen or sixteen when you married the guy, or maybe he wouldn’t. Done it just to get away from the fighting.”
Suzy made no reply.
Fauna looked away so that she wouldn’t see the hands slowly grip each other. “Got in a family way right off,” said Fauna. “That made the guy restless, and he powdered. What did you say?”
“I didn’t say nothing,” said Suzy.
“Where’s the baby?”
“I lost it.”
“Do you hate the guy?”
“I got nothing to say,” said Suzy.
“Okay with me. I ain’t really very interested. There’s some dames born for this business. Some are too lazy to work and some hate men. Don’t hardly none of them enjoy what they’re doing. That would be like a bartender that loves to drink. You don’t look like a natural-born hustler to me. You ain’t lazy. Why don’t you get a job?”
“I worked waitress and I worked Five-and-Dime. Only difference is, you get took to a movie instead of three bucks,” said Suzy.
“You trying to make a stake?”
“Maybe.”
“Got a boy?”
“Nope.”
“Hate boys?”
“Nope.”
Fauna sighed. “You got me, sister. I can feel myself being got. You’re a tough kid. Doing your own time, like an old con. I like that. It works better with me than a hard-luck story. Tell me, you hot?”
“Huh?”
“Under raps, I mean. Anybody got anything on you?”
“Nope.”
“Ever done time?”
“Once. Thirty days. Vagrancy.”
“Nothing else on the blotter?”
“Nope.”
“Can you give off a smile? You’d freeze the customers.” Suzy grinned at Fauna.
“Good God Almighty!” said Fauna. “You look like somebody’s sister! I’m afraid you’ll cost me. Why do I have to be a pushover? Ever worked a house?”
“Nope.”
“Well, it ain’t as bad as the street. Doc Wilkins will be in tomorrow.”
Suzy asked, “Can I get my suitcase?”
“I guess so.” Fauna opened a wallet on her desk. “J. C. Penney’s is open till six. Get yourself a dress—fancy but cheap. Get a new toothbrush. And when you come back, for God’s sake go to work on your hair. You could be a good-looking kid if you worked it up.”
“I been riding a bus,” said Suzy.
“That’ll do it,” said Fauna. “We eat at half-past six. How long since you ate?”
“Yesterday.”
“Beef stew tonight, creamed carrots, cherry Jello for dessert.”
On her way to the door Suzy paused and her hand patted the doorframe. “Cop worked me over today,” she said. “Name’s Joe Blaikey.”
“He’s a nice fella. Why, he’d lend you dough,” said Fauna.
“That’s what he said,” Suzy replied. “I love beef stew.”