He turned in his chair and crossed his thick legs and gazed thoughtfully towards one of his pairs of windows. That let me see handspun lisle socks and English brogues that looked as if they had been pickled in port wine. Counting what I couldnt see and not counting his wallet he had half a grand on him. I figured his wife had money.
Trouble, he said, still softly, is something our little city dont know much about, Mr. Marlowe. Our city is small but very, very clean. I look out of my western windows and I see the Pacific Ocean. Nothing cleaner than that, is there? He didnt mention the two gambling ships that were hull down on the brass waves just beyond the three-mile limit.
Neither did I. Thats right, Chief, I said.
He threw his chest a couple of inches farther. I look out of my northern windows and I see the busy bustle of Arguello Boulevard and the lovely California foothills, and in the near foreground one of the nicest little business sections a man could want to know. I look out of my southern windows, which I am looking out of right now, and I see the finest little yacht harbor in the world, for a small yacht harbor. I dont have no eastern windows, but if I did have, I would see a residential section that would make your mouth water. No, sir, trouble is a thing we dont have a lot of on hand in our little town.
I guess I brought mine with me, Chief. Some of it at least. Do you have a man working for you named Galbraith, a plainclothes sergeant?
Why yes, I believe I do, he said, bringing his eyes around. What about him?
Do you have a man working for you that goes like this? I described the other man, the one who said very little, was short, had a mustache and hit me with a blackjack. He goes around with Galbraith, very likely. Somebody called him Mister Blane, but that sounded like a phony.
Quite on the contrary, the fat Chief said as stiffly as a fat man can say anything. He is my Chief of Detectives. Captain Blane.
Could I see these two guys in your office?
He picked my card up and read it again. He laid it down. He waved a soft glistening hand.
Not without a better reason than you have given me so far, he said suavely.
I didnt think I could, Chief. Do you happen to know a man named Jules Amthor? He calls himself a psychic adviser. He lives at the top of a hill in Stillwood Heights.
No. And Stillwood Heights is not in my territory, the Chief said. His eyes now were the eyes of a man who has other thoughts.
Thats what makes it funny, I said. You see, I went to call on Mr. Amthor in connection with a client of mine. Mr. Amthor got the idea I was blackmailing him. Probably guys in his line of business get that idea rather easily. He had a tough Indian bodyguard I couldnt handle. So the Indian held me and Amthor beat me up with my own gun. Then he sent for a couple of cops. They happened to be Galbraith and Mister Blane. Could this interest you at all?
Chief Wax flapped his hands on his desk top very gently. He folded his eyes almost shut, but not quite. The cool gleam of his eyes shone between the thick lids and it shone straight at me. He sat very still, as if listening. Then he opened his eyes and smiled.
And what happened then? he inquired, polite as a bouncer at the Stork Club.
They went through me, took me away in their car, dumped me out on the side of a mountain and socked me with a sap as I got out.
He nodded, as if what I had said was the most natural thing in the world. And this was in Stillwood Heights, he said softly.
Yeah.
You know what I think you are? He leaned a little over the desk, but not far, on account of his stomach being in the way.
A liar, I said.
The door is there, he said, pointing to it with the little finger of his left hand.
I didnt move. I kept on looking at him. When he started to get mad enough to push his buzzer I said: Lets not both make the same mistake. You think Im a small time private dick trying to push ten times his own weight, trying to make a charge against a police officer that, even if it was true, the officer would take damn good care couldnt be proved. Not at all. Im not making any complaints. I think the mistake was natural. I want to square myself with Amthor and I want your man Galbraith to help me do it. Mister Blane neednt bother. Galbraith will be enough. And Im not here without backing. I have important people behind me.
How far behind? the Chief asked and chuckled wittily.
How far is 862 Aster Drive, where Mr. Merwin Lockridge Grayle lives?
His face changed so completely that it was as if another man sat in his chair. Mrs. Grayle happens to be my client, I said.
Lock the doors, he said. Youre a younger man than I am. Turn the bolt knobs. Well make a friendly start on this thing. You have an honest face, Marlowe.
I got up and locked the doors. When I got back to the desk along the blue carpet, the Chief had a nice looking bottle out and two glasses. He tossed a handful of cardamon seeds on his blotter and filled both glasses.
We drank. He cracked a few cardamon seeds and we chewed them silently, looking into each others eyes.
That tasted right, he said. He refilled the glasses. It was my turn to crack the cardamon seeds. He swept the shells off his blotter to the floor and smiled and leaned back.
Now lets have it, he said. Has this job you are doing for Mrs. Grayle anything to do with Amthor?
Theres a connection. Better check that Im telling you the truth, though.
Theres that, he said and reached for his phone. Then he took a small book out of his vest and looked up a number. Campaign contributors, he said and winked. The Mayor is very insistent that all courtesies be extended. Yes, here it is. He put the book away and dialed.
He had the same trouble with the butler that I had. It made his ears get red. Finally he got her. His ears stayed red. She must have been pretty sharp with him. She wants to talk to you, he said and pushed the phone across his broad desk.
This is Phil, I said, winking naughtily at the Chief.
There was a cool provocative laugh. What are you doing with that fat slob?
Theres a little drinking being done.
Do you have to do it with him?
At the moment, yes. Business. I said, is there anything new? I guess you know what I mean.
No. Are you aware, my good fellow, that you stood me up for an hour the other night? Did I strike you as the kind of girl that lets that sort of thing happen to her?
I ran into trouble. How about tonight?
Let me see tonight is what day of the week is it for heavens sake?
Id better call you, I said. I may not be able to make it. This is Friday.
Liar. The soft husky laugh came again. Its Monday. Same time, same place and no fooling this time?
Id better call you.
Youd better be there.
I cant be sure. Let me call you.
Hard to get? I see. Perhaps Im a fool to bother.
As a matter of fact you are.
Why?
Im a poor man, but I pay my own way. And its not quite as soft a way as you would like.
Damn you, if youre not there
I said Id call you.
She sighed. All men are the same.
So are all women after the first nine.
She damned me and hung up. The Chiefs eyes popped so far out of his head they looked as if they were on stilts.
He filled both glasses with a shaking hand and pushed one at me.
So its like that, he said very thoughtfully.
Her husband doesnt care, I said, so dont make a note of it.
He looked hurt as he drank his drink. He cracked the cardamon seeds very slowly, very thoughtfully. We drank to each others baby blue eyes. Regretfully the Chief put the bottle and glasses out of sight and snapped a switch on his call box.
Have Galbraith come up, if hes in the building. If not, try and get in touch with him for me.