James Chase - No Orchids for Miss Blandish

“Hey! Don’t be in such a rush. Maybe I could change my mind. Where’s your apartment anyway?”

“Just around the corner. Take us two minutes.”

Maisey hesitated, then she got to her feet.

“The risks we poor girls have to run for a little dough,” she said. “Well, okay, but remember — no funny business.”

“The idea never entered my head,” Rocco lied.

He had a convenient little apartment on the third floor above a filling and garage station with a back entrance though a courtyard that was used as a parking lot.

Maisey was surprised to see how nicely the big sitting room-bedroom was arranged and kept. The furniture was of light oak. A few rugs made islands on the polished floor. The chairs were big and overstuffed. There was a vast divan capable of sleeping four people: five at a pinch.

Maisey stood gaping at the divan.

“That’s pretty ambitious for a little guy like you, isn’t it?” she asked as he helped her off with her coat. “I’d have thought you would have got lost in that desert.”

“You’d be surprised what goes on in that bed,” Rocco said with a wink. “Me — I like plenty of room to maneuver in.”

“I’ll say you do,” Maisey said admiringly and giggled.

As she began to wander around the room, peering at his possessions, Rocco fixed two stiff drinks.

“Come and sit down, baby,” he said, “I want to talk business to you.”

Maisey lowered herself into one of the big lounging chairs. It was so deep, her knees were higher than her head. As Rocco handed her the highball, he looked with interest at what he could see of her from where he was standing.

“Talk away,” Maisey said. “I’m listening.”

Rocco waved his glass at her. Maisey drank half the whiskey in her glass, then blew out her cheeks.

“Say, this is strong enough to knock over a pregnant mule.”

“You think so?” Rocco said and patted her exposed knee. “But then you’re no pregnant mule.”

Maisey giggled. She didn’t often get a chance to drink good Scotch. As Rocco offered her a cigarette, she emptied her glass.

“I’ll give you a refill,” Rocco said, taking her glass to the cabinet.

“Only a small one,” Maisey said, settling herself comfortably, “or I’ll get cockeyed.”

“Why should you worry?” Rocco said as he sloshed four inches of whiskey into the glass and a little soda. He put the glass within her reach, then he sat opposite her.

“I’m looking for a smart girl who can get me some information. This is strictly confidential, baby. I want to get a line on the Grisson gang. You’re on the inside. You could get me what I want.”

Maisey didn’t like this idea at all. She was scared of Ma Grisson. Monkeying with Ma could be dangerous. She drank some of the whiskey while she attempted to think. To Maisey any form of thinking came hard. Rocco could almost hear her brain creak.

“If the idea doesn’t jell, baby,” he said, “forget it. I’ll play you some records instead. I’ve got a great library of jazz, but if you want to pick up a steady thirty bucks a week, here’s your chance.”

“What sort of information do you want?” Maisey asked cautiously.

“I’m not fussy,” Rocco said. “I haven’t been in the joint since Ma took over. Anything illegal going on in there?”

Maisey belched gently.

“Plenty,” she said. “I get the jitters sometimes in case there’s a raid.”

“Don’t be coy,” Rocco said, “Let’s have some details.”

Maisey wagged her finger at him.

“Let’s have some money first, bright boy.”

Rocco sighed. Women seemed, these days, he thought, to think only of money. He took out his roll, thumbed off twenty one dollar bills and handed them to Maisey.

“I trust you, sweetheart,” he said, wondering if he was wasting his money. “Now give me something.”

Maisey finished her drink. She was feeling a little dizzy.

“Let’s see.” She frowned up at the ceiling. “They’ve got a roulette table. That’s illegal, isn’t it? Then upstairs they have a brothel. That’s illegal too. I’ll tell you something else. All the doors are made of steel and there are steel shutters to the windows. By the time the cops break in, I’ll bet there’ll be nothing to see.”

Rocco looked at her unhappily. He knew most of what she had told him. He tried another angle.

“Where were the boys going just now?” he asked. “I saw Flynn, Woppy and Slim in the Dodge heading out of town.”

Maisey crossed one long leg over the other. Rocco blinked. From where he sat, he could see plenty.

“I wouldn’t know,” she said. “Flynn said it was business.”

She blew out her cheeks. “Phew! that Scotch is strong! He said they wouldn’t be back until nine. How’s about another drink?”

Patiently, Rocco fixed her another drink.

“Keep trying,” he said. “Is there anything out-of-the-way going on in the club? Anything odd?”

Maisey groped for her drink and nearly dropped it.

“Whoops! That nearly lost good liquor,” she said. “I think I’m just a little bit plastered.”

“Not you,” Rocco said, helping her put the drink on the table. “You’re just happy.”

“Yeah, maybe.” She tried to focus him without success. “I’ll tell you something: Slim’s got a girlfriend.”

Rocco shook his head.

“No, baby, not Slim. He’s never had a girlfriend, and never will have. He’s not built that way. Try something else.”

Maisey glared aggressively at him.

“Are you calling me a liar? I’m telling you he’s got a girl who he keeps locked in a room upstairs.”

Rocco felt a sudden quickening of excitement. Could he be getting somewhere with this dumb chick?

“Why does he keep her locked up?” he asked.

Maisey fanned herself with her hand, shaking her head.

“Search me. Mind you, if that streak of horror took a notion for me, I’d have to be locked up if he was to get anywhere with me.” She giggled. “I’m sorry for her. Slim scarcely ever leaves her. He stays in that locked room with her nearly all the time.”

Rocco was getting intrigued.

“Have you ever seen her?”

“Just once, but I hear, every night before the club opens, Slim takes her for a walk. They don’t stay out long. I reckon he just walks her around the block and brings her back. I got to the club a little early: my watch was wrong. That’s when I saw her. Slim and the girl were coming down the stairs. I only got a glimpse of her because Ma appeared and hustled me into the Ladies’ room.”

“What was the girl like?” Rocco asked, listening intently.

“I didn’t see her face. She had a scarf over her head and pulled across her face, but there was something queer about her. She walked down the stairs as if she couldn’t see — the way blind people walk.”

“Ma know about all this?”

“Sure, and Doc too. Doc goes up to her room every day.”

Rocco thought for a moment. This might be worth investigating, he thought.

“I want to see this girl,” he said. “How do I do it?”

Maisey smiled drunkenly at him.

“I’m not stopping you. Stick around the club between ten and eleven and you’ll see Slim and her taking a walk.”

If Slim was going to be out of town until nine, Rocco thought, there wouldn’t be much chance of seeing this mysterious girl tonight.

“You don’t tell me he takes her out through the front entrance?” he said.

Maisey was suddenly feeling faint. The room was moving slowly up and down with the motion of a ship.

“There’s a back entrance,” she said, “through the warehouse next door.”

Rocco smiled. He was now sure he hadn’t wasted his money.