The smile widened. “If I theenk the need for hurree ees approach', Jonee, eet ees no longer een the heep pocket. Eet ees move a leetle closer to the corrida.”
Johnny shrugged. “I don't dig you knife men at all. Be back in a few minutes with this.”
“No hurree. Earth ees the bes' for remove the blood, like a plant in the lobbee.”
“You bloodthirsty little spick!” Fred growled at him. “Didn't the man tell you it was a gag?”
The dark, innocent eyes widened. “But of course. I heard heem say so, deedn't I?” He picked up his tray of glasses and moved on past them, and his back was to Fred as his left eyelid flickered ever so slightly at Johnny.
“He thinks you're gonna use that thing,” Fred rumbled.
“He thinks it more than you think,” Johnny agreed. He made a short, sharp downward stroke with the graceful blade. “You believe the kid can really cut the mustard with this hatchet?”
Fred rubbed his chin. “I'll take him on trust. Couldn't feel comfortable around him knowin' for sure.”
Johnny snicked in the blade, slipped on the safety, and dropped the knife in a pocket. He saluted the mildly interested Fred and walked on out through the lobby which drowsed in the dinner hour quiet. He crossed directly to the switchboard and entered through the little gate, and Myrna's orange head bobbed up inquiringly from her book. The half smile of inquiry on her face faded upon recognition. “What do you want?”
“A few pearls of wisdom, C.O.D.”
“For you I have nothing,” she said flatly. “I went along with you once, and it was a mistake.”
“Who says it was a mistake, Myrna?”
“Never mind.” Her voice was resentful.
“Police talk to you?”
Her lip curled. “Two hours. Nosy bas-” She looked up at him.
“What'd you tell them?'
“The same thing I'm telling you. Nothing. Not one thing.”
“You think that was smart?
“Would I have done it if I'd thought it wasn't? Come on, blow, wise guy. I'm busy.”
Johnny nodded. He reached in his pocket and took out the knife, and Myrna's chair started to inch away from him. She was backed into the corner by the time he slid the safety off and flicked out the blade. He had the entire front of the switchboard to himself, and the eyes behind the horn rimmed glasses were enormous.
Still without a word Johnny laid the opened knife on the bakelite front of the board and pushed it toward her with his left hand. “Take a look,” he suggested.
“L-look-?” Her voice was a croak.
“Did you know the boy up in 938, Myrna? A knife just like this sliced his face to ribbons. You sure you know what league you're playin' in these days?” She stared mutely, a hand at her throat. “You and Hans pullin' oars in the same boat, maybe? You know what happened to Hans?”
“Stop-” The tip of her tongue circled her lips swiftly. Her voice strengthened. “Stop it. And get out of here. And get that damned knife out of here. Who the hell do you think you are?”
Johnny retrieved the knife, folded in the blade, tapped the solid casing on his palm, and returned it to his pocket. Myrna rolled her chair back out of its corner, her hands patting ineffectually at the wild hennaed hair. Her face was ghastly, and the lips bloodless.
Johnny half turned to go and then looked back. “Last chance, Myrna.”
“Get out of here! Fast!”
He shook his head commiseratingly. “I gave you an out, kid. I'm not even gonna feel sorry for you when they come for you with the knife. I wish I had your nerve, that's all.”
She looked around wildly for something to throw, and her voice rose hysterically. “Damn you, get out-!”
No score, Johnny thought to himself as he re-crossed the lobby. She's scared, though, and not of my palaver. She may come around yet when she thinks it over.
He entered the bar and stepped behind it at its nearer end, and the boy Manuel looked up from his preoccupation with lime squeezing. Johnny silently offered him the knife.
“Ah, senor!” the slim youth said cheerfully, wiping his hands on his apron. “Eet deed not take long?”
“Not long. Thanks.”
“No cause.”
Johnny moved on to the kitchen. It was Mrs. Carl Midler's dinner time, and Mrs. Carl Muller interested Johnny.
Chapter X
Willie Martin lay on his back in the big double bed in the hotel room, and the cigarette in the corner of his mouth trailed lazy spirals of gray-blue smoke upward. He looked up at Johnny sitting on the far edge of the bed, and his crisp voice broke the little silence. “This is not exactly the party I had in mind for the night I got back, Johnny. Maybe we should take the bit in our teeth and go out on the town?”
“Stop racin' your motor,” Johnny told him. “I got someplace for you to go later, anyway, if Shirley doesn't call. I told you she was in a bad mood.”
“You did tell me.” The lean, poised face returned to its brooding inspection of the eddying haze of his cigarette. “Not that it was necessary. She's had no other mood recently.” The light blue eyes flicked back to Johnny. “I suppose you wonder why I put up with it?”
“That's your business,” Johnny said shortly.
Willie smiled. “But you don't approve? You're as transparent as glass.” He shifted into a more comfortable position. “In a way, I don't approve myself, if it's any consolation to you.”
“Well, what the hell, then, Willie-” Johnny stared down at the slender man. “If you feel that way-I thought she had you on the hip.”
“She has.” The voice took on a brittle edge. “Perhaps I should have said that my intellect does not approve, but that I can't say the same for my emotions.” Willie lifted his head and smiled, this time the quick, flashing smile that Johnny knew so well.
“You find that a little difficult to believe?”.
“Well, knowin' you-” Johnny paused uncomfortably.
“She's a pretty thing, Johnny.”
And at the substantial understatement Johnny knew all that he needed to know; inwardly he was amazed. The man on his bed may not have had his pick of the world, but he hadn't missed it by much. Johnny had seen them come and go in Willie's life, the ladies and the others, and now here was the fastidious Willie trying to justify his feeling for a beautiful face that Johnny could no longer disassociate from a needle-punctured thigh…
He spoke abruptly. “Let's take a little ride.”
“Where?” There was no interest in the inquiry.
“Friend of yours wants to say hello.”
This time the head came around. “A friend? Of mine?”
“Yeah. Joe Dameron.”
Willie made a wry face. “I couldn't work up much enthusiasm over that visit. Joe and I never did see exactly eye-to-eye.”
“This is business.”
The blue eyes narrowed. “What kind of business? Do you have something on the fire with Joe?”.
“We been playin' cops and robbers around here since you left.”
“Well?”
“I'd rather have Joe tell you.”
Willie sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed; his hands energetically attacked his loosened tie and paused as his head swiveled toward Johnny again. “Are you in trouble? You been throwing your weight around?”
“No more'n usual. Joe'll brief you.”
Willie considered him shrewdly for a moment and then shrugged. He dressed quickly, and in deference to his business suit Johnny slipped into a sports jacket. Willie maintained combat silence on the way down to the street, and he spoke only once in the cab. “Has this something to do with the hotel?”
“Yeah.” They finished the ride in silence again, and Johnny led the way up the worn white steps and turned left inside to the high desk presided over by the white-maned patriarch, who regarded them bleakly.
“To see who, is it now?”
“The keeper of the zoo,” Johnny told him. “Mr. Martin to see Lieutenant Dameron.”
Deliberately the old man picked up the phone. “Lieutenant? A Mr. Martin to see you, sor. Wit' that big moose was here the other afternoon. Yes, sir.” He replaced the phone and looked at them.