Jarvis also remembered he had to see the old nut to bed. I was left on my own and with my thoughts.
I had learned a lot from Smith. He had confirmed what Gloria Cort had told me: Hamel was impotent. He had told me Hamel would be away for three or four days, leaving Nancy on her own. Hamel being away, gave me time. It would also keep Bertha quiet.
My afternoon hadn’t been wasted. I relaxed, and when I relax, my thoughts turn to money. I was still spending a million dollars when Carl arrived to relieve me.
“I bet you were busy,” he said, grinning.
“A beautiful dinner,” I said. “Man! Is this the job?”
I was getting into bed when the telephone bell rang. For a long moment, I hesitated to answer it, then I lifted the receiver.
“Bart!” Bertha’s strident voice hit my eardrum like a sledge hammer.
“Hi, honey,” I managed to say.
“What about it?”
“What about what?” Although I knew.
She made a sound a train whistle would envy.
“What’s happening? Have you seen him?”
“Relax... he’s away... Hollywood. I have it under control, baby.”
“When will he be back?”
“Don’t be so goddam anxious. Three or four days. Quiet down baby. I’m handling this... remember?”
“You’d better be. I’ve sold my apartment, and the furniture. Give with the action, Bart! As soon as he gets back, bite him!”
“You’ve sold...? What the hell are you saying?”
“Who wants to live in this crummy place when we’re worth millions?” Bertha demanded. “I had a good offer, so I’ve sold. Now the action is in your court.”
I suppressed a groan.
“Okay, okay. Three or four days. I’ll fix it.”
“Do that,” and she hung up.
Some minutes before midnight, I arrived at the Paradise Largo to begin my night’s stint. I stopped to chat up Mike O’Flagherty who was going off duty.
We talked of this and that, then I steered the conversation around to the Hamels.
“Any news of Mrs. Hamel?” I asked as I offered him a cigarette.
“The quack called again today. Mr. Hamel left early this morning. I hear he is going to Hollywood: a film deal.”
That was what I wanted to know. Hamel was now on his way to Hollywood.
I found Carl waiting to be relieved. Jarvis had left a stack of sandwiches for me in case I starved during the night.
“There’s a bottle of Scotch in my drawer,” Carl said. “Help yourself.”
When he had gone, I ate the sandwiches, had a couple of drinks, then walked to the tree by the gates. I climbed it, surveyed Hamel’s ranch house which was in darkness, and after waiting for more than an hour when nothing happened, I returned to the cottage, lay on the settee and went to sleep. Around five in the morning, I forced myself awake, shaved and showered, and wandered around the garden, trying to look like an energetic guard. At 08.00, Jarvis arrived with coffee, pancakes, maple syrup, grilled sausages and scrambled eggs.
While I ate, he talked. He said that as I would be on duty tomorrow at midday, he would arrange another dinner with Washington Smith. I said that was fine with me.
Carl relieved me at midday. I went swimming, then returned to my apartment and slept until 18.00. I didn’t feel like coping with Bertha, so I went to a bar for a drink, then feeling hungry, I headed to where I had parked the Maser. As I was getting into the car, I spotted Gloria Cort coming towards me.
“Hi, there!”
She stopped and regarded me, then she smiled, and came up to the Maser.
“Hi! Where did you spring from?” She leant against the car. Her breasts swung against the flimsy material of her dress.
“I’m about to feed my face,” I said. “Any chance of your company? I hate eating alone.”
She moved rapidly to the off-side and opened the passenger’s door.
“Where?”
“Do you like seafood?”
“I prefer meat. There’s a restaurant not far from here: Beef on the Hoof. Know it?”
Just like Bertha. The prices at this restaurant would have startled an oil Sheik.
“Not there,” I said firmly. “I know a joint where you can get a steak that sits up on your plate and makes bull noises.”
She laughed.
“Well, it was a try.” She settled herself beside me and her hand fell into my lap. “Nice car.”
I gently removed her hand.
“Not right now, baby... later, huh?”
I drove her to the restaurant which was off Paradise Avenue. It had piped music that blew your ears, a lot of action, and the waiters dressed as bullfighters.
When we had settled and ordered steaks, she leaned back, thrusting her breasts at me.
“Where have you been, handsome?” she asked. “I haven’t seen you since you blew into the Alameda.”
“I get around. What are you doing, footloose? Don’t you do an act there, or something?”
“Only Saturdays. What do you do?”
“Me? I chase the fast buck, and sometimes catch it. How’s Diaz these days?”
She gave me a long, searching look.
“What did you say your name was?”
“Bart Anderson.”
She nodded.
“Keep clear of Diaz, Bart.”
“I’ve been told that before.”
“Now I’m telling you. Keep clear of him.”
The steaks arrived and we began to eat.
“If he’s that poisonous, what’s a nice girl like you doing hooking up with him?”
“Who the hell said I was nice?” She pursed her lips and made a rude noise. “But you’re right. Whenever I meet up with a man, sooner or later, I ask myself what I’m doing with him, and I never come up with an answer. The trouble with me is I get infatuated. I got infatuated with that jerk Hamel. Then I got infatuated with this creep Diaz. If I told you how many goddamn finks I’ve got infatuated with it would take all night.”
“Tough,” I said. “How’s the steak?”
“Marvellous.” She started eating again.
So I let her eat. When she finished, she said she would have a sundae with plenty of bananas and cherries. I let her work through that while I drank coffee. When there was nothing more for her to eat, she nodded, pushed back her chair and stood up.
“Let’s go,” she said. “I’m going to give you a work out. It’ll be an experience you’ll write up in your diary.”
“I don’t keep a diary,” I said as I paid the check.
“But you will, brother! You certainly will!” Catching hold of my arm, she dragged me out of the restaurant.
The telephone bell brought me awake. I clawed open my eyes and squinted at the bedside clock. It showed 10.05. The sound of the bell pounded my brain. I heard a moan, then a four-letter word, and saw Gloria, half sitting up, naked, beside me.
“Stay still,” I croaked. “It’s nothing.”
I knew it was Bertha, trying to get to me. I had taken a risk, bringing Gloria to my apartment, but she had dangled her sexual equipment so enticingly, I had been swept off my feet.
I have bedded many dolls in my past, but Gloria was something else beside. As a bed partner, she was unique.
I had already told Bertha that I was back to the grindstone, and not to expect to hear from me for a few days, but now Bertha dreamed of sharing my million dollars, she would be hard to shake off.
After a few more rings, the telephone bell sulked into silence.
“Hi,” Gloria said, smiling at me. She looked depressingly lively. “That sure was a night, honey.”
Feeling boneless, I managed to nod.
“Some coffee. I’ll get it.” She slid off the bed and ran naked towards the kitchen. I watched her with carnal appreciation.