"What is it, Paul?" Olivia asked.
"Nothing," I said. "Nothing, but I wish they'd just let the kids play with their damn marbles and leave the dirty work to us grownups. Come on."
At five-twenty, it was still daylight outside, but in the Flamingo it was a cloudy and moonless midnight. We had to pause for a moment to let our eyes get used to the blackness.
"No," Olivia said suddenly. Her fingers tightened on my arm.
"What's your problem?" I asked.
"That blonde. At the bar."
I didn't rubberneck. "So there's a blonde at the bar. Think I'm going to start chasing her?"
"She's Harold's nurse. Receptionist. You know the one. I told you. The one who laughed."
"Well, you said it was right around the corner from the office. Maybe she's stopping for a quick one on her way home. Maybe she needs it after answering the phone all day and telling the yearning ladies Dr. Kildare's out of town."
Olivia was gripping my arm hard. "I don't think I can stay in the same room with her, Paul. I'll either get deathly sick or attack her."
"Only men attack women," I said. "In one sense of the word, at least. And you're faking, Doc. Nobody hates nobody so much they can't keep their lunch down."
After a moment, she laughed. "Oh, dear. Can't I even exaggerate a little?"
"Not on duty," I said. "Tell me more."
"She must have stopped on her way home, as you say. She's still in her uniform."
"The transparent white nylon one?"
"With the pink undies showing through. Not to mention where the undies aren't. She's got a good-looking boy with her, standard TV model, nicely tanned, with wavy brown hair and flashing white teeth. He's in civilian clothes, sport coat and slacks, but he wears them like a uniform: I think he's Navy, from the base, off duty, probably an aviator. The airplane sailors have a slightly different look from the ship sailors. After a while at Pensacola you can distinguish them pretty well. Harold would be green with jealousy if he knew his little office queen was stepping out with a younger man."
I turned my head casually. It was Braithwaite, of course. It figured. After all, I had requested further information on Mooney. Put somebody to really digging for dirt, I'd said. Cover his background, his home, his office… How the Navy boy had got the job of approaching Mooney's nurse wasn't immediately clear, but it wasn't likely they'd met by accident.
She was young and quite pretty, I saw. Well, she would be. With Mooney's record for philandering, he'd hardly pick a hag to share his office hours. I remembered being told the turnover was considerable.
The current incumbent had her nurse's cap perched on a piled-up mass of pale hair that made her look a little top-heavy. It seemed like a lot of hairdo to take to work every day. She was slightly plump for my taste, sticking out rather obviously and spectacularly in front, but the waist was small and the arms seemed to be nicely proportioned inside the semitransparent sleeves of her uniform. The white stockings and sturdy, low-heeled, white shoes couldn't hide the fact that the round calves and trim ankles would pass inspection anywhere.
"You've got a good eye, Doc," I said. "He is Navy and he is a fly-boy."
"That's not where you're looking," Olivia said dryly. "But since you know him, I suppose he's the one you came here to meet."
"Maybe. He's obviously got one job already. We'll see if he has two." I glanced surreptitiously at my watch. "Let's grab a booth. You don't want to be left standing when nature calls me, a hundred and forty-three seconds from now."
I seated her at the side of the room. She started pulling off her gloves, glancing toward the young couple at the bar.
"I don't understand… Oh. He's trying to get her to tell him things about Harold for you, I suppose. Well, he's come to the right person. She should have a lot of fascinating information on the subject."
"Let's hope she does," I said, and then it was time to go. I rose and said in clear, husbandly tones: "Order me a bourbon and water, dear, if you can catch a waiter. I'll be right back."
I didn't look toward the bar as I went off, but I was aware that Braithwaite was still engrossed in his conversation with the blonde girl in medical white. Either he'd forgotten, or he wasn't my man after all, or our watches were out of sync, or his time had been set a minute or two later than mine. I entered the tiled precincts and stalled a little in the obvious way. When I turned to wash my hands, he was there, washing his hands. We were alone in the place.
I said, "Go ahead."
"The interrogation team is in town. I have the address and telephone number written down-"
"Never write anything down. Give it here."
He tore a leaf from a small notebook and passed it over. I memorized the information and flushed the paper down the nearest john.
"How much do you know?" I asked the boy.
"Enough, I think, sir. Have you spotted your man yet?"
"I have a man spotted. Orders are to take him. Never mind that. You saw the lady with me? Well, you probably recognized her from the ship. Dr. Mariassy."
"Yes, sir."
"If I get busy and things look rough, I may have to unload her on you. As far as you're concerned, she is not expendable. You will keep her alive and unhurt if you have to stop the bullets and knives with your own head or heart, whichever you consider more impenetrable. Communication understood?"
"Yes, sir."
"Are you armed?"
"Yes, sir."
"Can you shoot?"
"Yes, sir."
That probably meant he wasn't very good, I reflected, looking at him sourly; and if he was good at all it was probably only on paper targets. The Navy doesn't go in for small arms much-they figure on the Marines doing the shooting-and there are all degrees and kinds of marksmanship. No man who really knows how to shoot is going to answer that question without qualification. Well, it was the best arrangement I could make at the moment.
"Where can I reach you if I need you tonight?" I asked. "You're not still living aboard the training carrier, I hope."
"No, sir. I'm staying temporarily at the BOO on the base."
"Phone?"
"Well, there's no room phone, but if you call the building-"
"Hell, I can't go through all that," I said impatiently. "And I can't send a lady to visit you in the Bachelor Officers' Quarters, either." I frowned. "What about this nurse? Does she live alone?"
"I believe so, sir."
"How far have you got with her? Do you think she may ask you to her place if you play it right? Since you obviously can't ask her to yours?"
He flushed slightly. "Well, sir, I… I think so. She's very friendly. I was going to ask you. I mean, I'm not a kid or anything, but I didn't know how far… I mean, they didn't tell me if I was really supposed to…"
I said, "I want you to spend the night with her, so I know where I have you if I need you. That will also give you an opportunity to carry out your primary mission, which I presume is gathering information about her employer. Whatever else you do or don't do is up to you, as long as you keep her friendly and unsuspicious."
He hesitated. "Yes, sir," he said reluctantly.
"Objection?"
"There's hardly any alternative, is there, sir? And, well, it just seems a little cold-blooded."
I was reminded of Olivia's attitude of a couple of hours ago. I suppose it should have given me a warm and sentimental feeling to know there were still people around for whom sex had a symbolic significance, but I'll have to admit that it merely made me impatient.
"Jesus," I said, "a Navy man with a conscience about dames? I thought you fellows had girls in every port."
He drew himself up. "I've had plenty of girls, sir! It's not that. Only, well, she seems like a nice kid-"