E. Hunt - House Dick

“So they tell me.” She rested her elbows on the counter and watched him eat. After a while she murmured, “You wouldn’t look so bad yourself—after a night’s sleep. Your job pay anything?”

“Practically nothing.”

Her lips pursed and her head moved from side to side. “No sale. I could have gotten married when I was seventeen. The guy drops in here now and then. He’s got a radio repair shop, a wife, four kids and more debts than he knows what to do with. My mother steered me out of that one, blessings on her grave. I figure a girl can only make one big mistake. I don’t want mine to cost me a lifetime.”

“Someone’s got to marry the poor guys. Ever think of that?”

She stood back from the counter. “That’s for someone else. Jerry’s got other plans.”

“Famous last words,” he murmured and drank his milk. Jerry made a vixen face and moved down along the counter. Novak signed the check and crossed the lobby to the Assistant Manager’s office.

Connery was wearing a pinstripe suit with a light blue shirt. There was a red carnation pinned on his lapel. When Novak came in he said, “Used Car Dealers’ Convention next week. I’ve blocked eighty rooms for them. Plus the mezzanine reception room, banquet hall and the main ballroom for the last night. You may need some extra men for the night functions. Let me know how many before you go hiring them.”

“Check.”

“And make sure they look the part. Pressed tuxedos and clean cuffs and collars. We can do without more of your crummy waterfront pals.”

“I’ll march them in here to give them a look at a natty dresser. That do?”

Connery snorted. “Anything new on Boyd?”

“The cops haven’t confided in me. One’s up talking to Miss Norton right now.”

“Who’s she?”

“A friend from Chicago.”

“Of the family?”

“She knew Boyd pretty well.”

Connery’s eyebrows lifted. He made a low whistle with his teeth. “So it’s like that.”

Novak lighted a cigarette, tossed the match in the wastebasket and gestured goodbye to Connery. After his discussion with Morely, he was in no mood for another inquisition.

He ambled out to the lobby and drifted from there through the dining room and the bar where waiters were readying for midday business, chatted with some of them and pushed through into the kitchen. He watched cooks adding ingredients to big aluminum kettles, then down to the laundry where women were feeding sheets through automatic ironers. A turn around the engine room, a friendly cup of coffee with the chief engineer and back up to his office.

Paula Norton was sitting in a chair near the reception desk. She was wearing a beige wool suit, matching pumps, a small crescent hat and gloves. When she saw Novak she got up and walked quickly toward him. Her eyes were wide, and her lips moved nervously. She put her hands on his arms and said excitedly, “Pete, the most wonderful news! While I was talking with that detective there was a long-distance call. From a lawyer in Winnetka—Chalmers’s lawyer. Pete, Chalmers left a lot of money to me. The lawyer wants me to go to Winnetka right away.” Her hands trembled with excitement.

“How much money?”

“He doesn’t know yet—but it’ll be plenty.” She breathed deeply. “Half of the estate.”

13

“Congratulations,” Novak said stiffly.

Her face clouded. “Aren’t you glad for me?”

“Delirious. Working girl makes good. You worked for it, too.”

Her hands dropped away, her lips quivered slightly. “You’re damn right I worked for it!”

“Let’s hope you get it. Only don’t think the widow will give it up without a fight.”

“Let her try,” she flared, then her eyes narrowed. “What could she do?”

“Charge undue influence, among other things. Judges and juries are pretty conservative, beautiful. I’d guess they’d take a poor view of a solid citizen depriving his wife of anything in favor of an after-hours cutie. So long, gorgeous. See you in the headlines.” He moved past her, but one hand held him.

“Damn you. You’d love to see that happen.”

Turning he faced her. “Hell, you’re worse off than ever. We cleaned up the jewelry problem, but another motive’s cropped up. One the police won’t be likely to ignore. And Julia will be in there every minute, pitching and batting out the whole arsenal of legal and wifely tricks. If you get anything after the smoke’s cleared away, you’ll really have earned it.”

“Any more advice?” she said tightly.

“Don’t spend the dough until you’ve got it.” He laughed shortly. “That’s good advice for anyone.”

Her chin lifted and her eyes surveyed him. “What a cheap little world you live in. Nickels and dimes and two weeks’ vacation a year. How much are you charging me for the other night?”

“For bringing romance into your life?”

She flushed quickly. “For removing a body.”

“Half of anything you get,” he said coolly.

She stepped back and crossed her arms. “That would be about right, wouldn’t it? But you can’t prove anything. Only you and I know he was ever there.”

“And the murderer.”

She bit her lower lip. Then she snapped, “He won’t be telling anybody. But I’ll pay you, Novak. I wouldn’t be under obligation to you for the world.”

“That’s a fast reverse. Not long ago you were grateful beyond words. Now I’ve got a claim if I can prove it. Well, don’t bother. Long ago I charged it off to charity.”

Paula spun around and half-ran toward the doorway. A few eyes stared at Novak. Wetting dry lips he reached for a cigarette, found the pack empty, crumpled it into an ashtray and strode toward the cigar counter.

A short fat man was kidding the girl behind the counter. When she saw Novak she moved quickly to the cash register, rang up the sale and pressed change into the man’s hand. He opened his mouth to say something, but she had already forgotten him. His mouth clamped shut, and he walked huffily away. She slid a package of cigarettes across the counter to Novak and added a pack of matches. He gave her half a dollar and said, “Didn’t mean to break up anything.”

“Those old goats never give up, and all the young, good-looking guys are married.” She smiled sexily. “Most of them anyway.”

Novak opened the package, extracted a cigarette and lighted it. “Don’t mind me, Sylvia,” he said dully. “I’m not myself these days.”

“You don’t even look like yourself. Where’d you spend the night? On a coal barge?”

“Wish I had,” he said moodily. “I’d feel less frayed.” Resting one elbow on the counter he blew smoke at the paperback rack.

Sylvia said, “I’ve been thinking about that cup of schnapps you mentioned. It just happens I haven’t a thing to do tonight except brush my hair and watch TV.”

Novak reached for a postcard and took out his pen. He scribbled on the slick card and handed it to her. “Address and phone number. We might even improve on the schnapps. Any time after eight.”

“Make mine bourbon,” she said throatily. “Mixed or straight. How do you like your breakfast eggs?”

“Over easy. And a rasher of bacon.” He saw Connery crossing the lobby and moved away from the counter. As he glanced back she blew him a kiss.

Novak turned around in time to see a man moving hurriedly toward the street door. Doctor Edward Bikel in a dark topcoat and dark hat. Bikel pushed through the revolving doorway almost knocking down an incoming bellhop. The hop dropped the bags and gave Bikel’s back a redfaced glare. Then he jerked up the bags and trudged toward the reception desk. Behind him followed two chesty ladies in tweed coats and sensible shoes. Career travelers on their husbands’ insurance money, and fond of cream sherry and English cigarettes.