"I've been looking for you," she said.
She leaned over and took a cigarette from my pack and tapped it on the table. When I lit it for her she blew a stream of smoke into the air. "You spoke of five hundred bucks the last time..."
"Go on."
"Maybe I can deliver."
"Yeah?"
"But not for five hundred bucks."
"Holding me up?"
"Could be."
"What have you got? Five hundred can get me a lot of things.
The torch singer was coming to the end of the number and the blonde took another drag on the butt, then rubbed it out in the ashtray. "Look, get out of here before the lights go on. I'll be through here at one o'clock and you can pick me up on the corner. We can go up to my place and I'll tell you about it."
"O.K."
"And you better bring more than five hundred."
"I'll see what I can do," I told her.
She smiled at me and laid her hand over mine. "You know, you seem like a pretty nice joe, mister. See you at one."
I didn't wait for the lights to go on. I threw the rest of the drink down, waved the waiter over and paid him, then went out to the foyer. The kid at the hat window gave me a mock scowl. "You're too eager. I don't get off for hours yet."
I threw a half in the cup while she retrieved my hat, and when she handed it to me she took that stance that showed me where she put the kiss I threw at her. And she didn't mind my looking.
I took out a bill, folded it lengthwise and poked it down there out of sight. "If the boss doesn't find it you can keep it."
"He'd never think of looking there," she grinned devilishly. She stood up and there was no trace of the green at all. "But you can have it back if you want to chase it."
This time I pushed my hat on my head and started for the door. Hell, I was no Indian giver. But maybe the Indians had something if they played games like that.
My watch said I had a long while to wait, so I cut over two blocks and found a bar that had a few empty stools. I ordered a beer and a sandwich twice, then started in to enjoy a mild evening, but I kept drifting back to the blonde. Something was going to cost me and I hoped it was worth it. Five hundred bucks, just half my fee. It took me two hours to make up my mind, then I went to the phone booth in the back, dropped in a nickel and asked for long-distance.
The operator came on and I gave her my client's number. The gnome squeaked out a hullo, told me Mr. Berin had retired for the night, but when I insisted I wanted to speak to him, put the phone down and shuffled off muttering to himself. I had just finished putting in another handfull of dimes when Mr. Berin gave me a sleepy "Good evening."
"This is Mike, Mr. Berin. Sorry I had to disturb you, but something important has come up."
"It did? Is it something I should know?"
"Well, yes. It concerns money."
He chuckled, the tiredness out of his voice. "Then I'm glad to be of use to you, Mike. What is it?"
"I may have a line on the redhead. For a dodge I offered a, dame five bills..."
"What was that?"
"Five hundred bucks... if she did some successful snooping. Apparently she did. But now she wants more. Shall I go for it or do I try to get it out of her some other way?"
"But... what is it? Did she... ?"
"She wouldn't talk. Wants me to meet her later."
"I see." He thought a moment. Then, "What do you think, Mike?"
"It's your show, Mr. Berin, but I'd say look it over and if it's worth anything, buy it."
"Then you think it's worth something?"
"I'd take that chance. The dame's a hostess in the Zero Zero and she knew Nancy. At least she knew her quite a while ago and it looks as if that's where the bones lie buried."
"Then do it, Mike. The sum is trivial enough... at least to me. You, er, look it over, and do what you think is best."
"O.K., but she wants the dough right away."
"Very well. You write her a check, then call me, and I'll wire that amount to your bank so it will be there in the morning to cover it."
"Right. I'll buzz you later. Take it easy."
I stuck the phone back in its cradle and went back to the bar. At twelve-thirty I gathered up my change, whistled at a cab outside and had him drive me over to where I left my heap.
It was five minutes past one when I cruised past the corner and saw the blonde coming towards the curb. I rolled the window down and yelled for her to hop in. She recognized me, opened the door and slid on to the seat.
"Nice timing. Where to?" I pulled away from the curb and got into the line of traffic going uptown.
"Straight ahead. I have a place on Eighty-ninth."
She had a beat-up overnight bag between her feet and I indicated it with a nod. "That the stuff?"
"Uh-huh." The blonde opened her purse and pulled out a lipstick. There wasn't much light, but she seemed to be getting it on straight. When I stopped for a red I took a good look at her. Not a bad number at all. The curves looked real and in some spots too good to be true.
She turned her head and looked straight into my eyes, then let a little grin play with the corners of her mouth. "Curious?"
"About the bag?"
"About me?"
"I'm always curious about blondes."
She waited to see what I was going to do then, but the light turned green and I rolled with the traffic. At Eighty-ninth I turned over until she told me to stop, then pulled into the curb and killed the engine. When I opened the door for her I picked up the bag and let her step out.
"You wouldn't think of running off with that, would you?" She hooked her arm in mine.
"I thought of it, then I got curious."
"About the bag?"
"Abut you." Her hand squeezed mine and we walked to the apartment. At the door she fished out a key, opened it, then led me upstairs two flights to a front apartment and flicked on the light.
It was an old high-ceilinged affair done over in a welter of curves and angles the designers call modern. Each wall was a different color of pastel with tasteful but inexpensive pictures in odd groupings. The furniture looked awkward, but it was comfortable enough.
When I threw my hat over a lamp the blonde said, "Shouldn't we introduce ourselves? I'm Ann Minor." She shrugged out of her coat, looking at me peculiarly.
"Mike Hammer, Ann. I'm not an insurance investigator. I'm a private cop."
"I know. I was wondering if you were going to tell me." Her laugh was one of relief.
"Who told you that?"
"Me. I knew damn well I had seen you or your picture somewhere before. It didn't come to me until tonight, though."
"Oh!"
"It was your picture."
"Was that why you shooed me out of the joint so fast?"
"Yes. Murray isn't fond of cops, not even private ones."
"What has a legitimate businessman got to be afraid of?"
"Say that again and leave out one word."
I didn't. I sat there on the arm of a chair and watched her. She hung her coat in a closet, took my hat from the lamp and put it on the shelf and closed the door. Then she turned around fast and walked over to me.
"I'm no kid," she said. "I don't think I ever was a kid. You weren't in the club looking for a good time and I knew it. When you mentioned Nancy I had a pretty good idea what' you were after, and I get the wim-wams when I think about getting mixed up in anything. Tell me something, how good are you?"
I had a .45 out and pointed at her stomach almost before she finished the sentence. When she had a good look at it I slid it back in the leather and waited. Her eyes were wider than before.
"I hate Murray. There are other guys I hate too, but he's the only one I can point to and say I'm sure I hate. Him and his butt boys."