‘Listen, buster,’ he said in his husky worn-out voice, ‘if you plan to stay around in this goddamn town, don’t make a complaint.’
‘Thanks for the advice... then I won’t.’ I picked up what was left of my cigarette case and dropped it into my hip pocket. ‘I thought I should report it no longer stolen.’
We looked at each other, then he said, his voice now a whisper, ‘Off the record, buster, if I were you, I’d scram out of this town. Suckers who try to help Miss Baxter don’t last long, and there’s nothing we can do about it. Off the record, you understand?’
‘Would that be one of the Jinx gang?’ I asked and turned to look at the kid who was listening and watching.
‘That’s right.’
‘He’s bleeding.’
‘Yeah.’
‘What happened to him?’
He regarded me, his pig eyes now impersonal. I could see I was boring him.
‘Why should you care, buster? If that’s all you want to say, take off with the feet,’ and he began to roll his pencil again.
I went over to the kid.
‘I work for Miss Baxter, the welfare worker,’ I said. ‘It’s my job to be helpful. Is there anything I can do for...’
That was as far as I got.
The kid spat in my face.
Nothing dramatic happened for the next six days, Jenny rushed in and out, dropping yellow forms on the desk, asking anxiously if I had had trouble and then rushing out again. It baffled me that she could keep going the way she did. It also bothered me that she always wore the same drab dress and she made no effort to make the best of herself.
I typed out her reports, broke them down, put them on cards and continued to bring the card index up-to-date.
The word must have got around that I was now the official help, because the old, the lame and the halt began to come to me with their problems. Most of them tried to con me, but I took their names and addresses, wrote down a summary of their problems and told them I would talk to Jenny. Once it got into their muddled heads that they couldn’t con me, they became friendly, and for the next four days, I fell for this, then discovered because of their yakking I wasn’t doing any useful work, so I cut them short.
Rather to my surprise, I found I was enjoying this strange contact with a world I hadn’t imagined existed. I was startled when I got a letter from Sydney Fremlin, written in purple ink, asking how I was progressing and when was I returning to Paradise City?
It was only when I read the letter that I realised I had forgotten Paradise City, Sydney and the deluxe shop with its rich, overfed clients. There seemed to me to be no point in telling Sydney what I was doing in Luceville. Had I told him, he would have taken to his bed in despair, so I wrote that I was thinking of him (this I knew would be a sure-fire success) that I was still very nervy, that Luceville provided me with a change of scene and that I would write before long. I thought that this would keep him quiet for a week or so.
On the sixth day the scene changed.
I arrived as usual at the office around 09.00. I found the office door open. A glance showed me the lock had been smashed. My careful work for the past six days: my carefully typed cards, my reports were all piled in a heap on the floor and over them had been poured melted tar. There was no question of a salvage operation: no one can deal with tar.
On the desk, printed with my red felt pen was the legend: GO HOME, CHEAPIE.
I was surprised by my reaction. The average person, I suppose, would have been angry, in despair and perhaps defeated, but I didn’t react that way. I turned cold and a viciousness I had never known flowed through me. I looked at the work I had done, ruined by a stupid, vicious youth and I took up his challenge. ‘You do this to me: I’ll do it to you,’ attitude.
It took me all the morning to clean up the mess. I worked fast, as I didn’t want Jenny to know what had happened. Fortunately, this was her visiting day and she wouldn’t be in until 17.00. I got a can of gasoline and cleaned the tar off the floor. I walked the ruined reports and the cards down to the trash bin.
Every now and then, old women would come, and I told them I was too busy to talk to them. They gaped at the mess I was cleaning up and went away. One of them, a fat woman, pushing seventy, paused in the doorway and watched while I scrubbed the floor.
‘I’ll do that, Mister Larry,’ she said. ‘I’m more used to it than you.’
Maybe the viciousness in my eyes as I looked at her scared her. She went away.
By 16.00 I had cleaned it all up. I had ignored the telephone bell. I then sat down and began again on the card index.
Jenny came bustling in around 17.15. She looked tired as she dropped into the straight-backed chair, facing my desk.
‘Everything under control?’ She sniffed. ‘Gasoline? Something happen?’
‘A tiny accident... nothing,’ I said. ‘How did you get on?’
‘All right... the usual. People are beginning to talk about you, Larry. The oldies are getting to like you.’
‘That’s a step in the right direction.’ I leaned back in the desk chair. ‘Tell me about Spooky. Have we a card on him?’
She stiffened, staring at me.
‘No. Why do you ask?’
‘Have we anything on him? Where he lives?’
She continued to stare at me.
‘Why do you want to know where he lives?’
I forced a casual grin.
‘I’ve been wondering about him. I wondered, if I could contact him, if I might sell myself to him... I mean get friendly with him. What do you think?’
Jenny shook her head.
‘No... absolutely no! No one could ever get friendly with Spooky. This is wrong thinking, Larry.’ Then she paused and her eyes searched my face. ‘Has something happened?’
‘Happened?’ I smiled at her. ‘I was just wondering if I could do a rescue act... I mean if I talked to him... but I’ll go along with what you say... you must know... I don’t.’
‘Something has happened! I know Spooky! Please tell me!’
‘Nothing has happened. The trouble with you, Jenny, is you get dramatic at times.’ Again I smiled at her. Then I had a sudden inspiration. ‘If you haven’t anything better to do, will you have dinner with me tonight?’
Her eyes widened.
‘Dinner? I’d love to.’
It struck me from her expression this was probably her first invitation to dinner she had had since she had arrived in this godforsaken town.
‘There must be someplace where we can eat a decent meal. Luigi’s didn’t make a hit with me. Where can we go — expense no object.’
She clapped her hands.
‘You really mean that — expense no object?’
‘That’s what I mean. I’ve spent nothing since I’ve been here and I’m loaded.’
‘Then the Plaza... it’s five miles out of town. I’ve never been there, but I’ve been told about it.’ She waved her hands and looked as excited as a kid.
‘Okay. I’ll fix it.’
She looked at her watch, then jumped to her feet.
‘I must go. I have a date in five minutes.’
‘Tonight then... eight o’clock. Come to the hotel. I have a car... okay?’
She nodded, smiled and was gone.
For some moments I sat thinking, then I dialled the cop house and asked to be connected with the Desk Sergeant. After a delay, his husky voice came over the line.
‘This is Carr... remember me?’ I said.
I listened to his heavy breathing.
‘Carr? Fifteen hundred bucks... right?’
‘That’s it. Can you tell me where Spooky Jinx hangs out... his pad?’
A long pause, then he said, ‘What’s the idea?’
‘I want to contact him. He and I are due for a talk.’
‘You looking for trouble, buster?’
‘I’m a welfare officer — remember?’ I said. ‘I’m asking for information.’