“Where’s everybody?” Carmody asked her.
“Everybody? Don’t I count?”
“I mean Ackerman and Beaumonte.”
“Are they everybody?” she asked, smiling at him, her eyes wide and thoughtful.
“No, you count, too,” he said.
“Sometimes it seems like they’re everybody,” she said, sighing sadly. There was a comic quality to her gravity; with her swept-up blonde hair, jingling bracelets, she was hard to take seriously.
“Don’t get deep now,” he said.
“You’re like them, in a way.”
“That’s a compliment, I hope.”
“You wouldn’t care whether it was or not.” A frown gathered on her smooth childishly round forehead. “That’s what frightens me about all of you. You just don’t care. Not like other people do. Everything in the world is just to use. A girl, a car, a drink, they’re all the same.”
“What got you into this mood?” he asked her.
“Too many drinks, I guess. That’s Dan’s analysis for all my problems.” She put an expression of mock sternness on her face and pointed a finger accusingly at Carmody. “ ‘You’re a lush, you lush.’ ” Relaxing and sighing, she said, “That’s his daily sermon. It’s supposed to fix everything up dandy.”
Carmody was touched by the unhappiness in her face. “You shouldn’t worry so much,” he said. He wondered why she stuck with Beaumonte. The same reason I do, he thought. The money, the excitement of being on intimate terms with power and privilege. Weren’t those good reasons?
“The trouble is I don’t feel like a girl any more,” she said, making a studied pirouette on one small foot.
“Well, what do you feel like?”
“Like a faucet,” she said, making a faster turn on her other foot. Her skirt flared out from her beautifully shaped, silken legs. “Look, I can dance. I’m a faucet,” she said again, continuing the pirouettes. “Something Dan turns on and off, on and off. Whenever he wants to. Don’t I dance gorgeously?”
“Just great.”
She stopped spinning and looked at him, her eyes bright and excited. “I love to dance. Even when it was my work I loved it. Mike, how about taking me on a picnic some day?”
Carmody laughed. “Sure. We could stage it on the roof and have it catered by the Park Club. What gave you that idea?”
“No, the Park Club won’t do,” she said, sighing. “They’d send over ants in little tiny cellophane packages to give it a realistic touch. Excuse me. We need ice. Then I’ll make us a couple of unwise drinks.”
“Never mind me.”
She looked at him thoughtfully. “How come you don’t drink. I mean, get blind and drunk like the rest of us.”
“I guess I don’t want to be anyone else,” Carmody said. “That’s why people get drunk, I imagine. To forget what they are.”
“That’s a gloomy idea,” she said. “It kind of hurts, too. Well, to hell with it. I’ll get the ice and be somebody else. Maybe an ant at a picnic, who knows?”
A moment after she’d gone a key sounded in the front door and Beaumonte walked in, followed by Bill Ackerman and his huge watchdog, Johnny Stark, the ex-heavyweight. Something in their manner warned Carmody; Beaumonte, massive and immaculate in a white silk suit, looked sullen, and even Ackerman, who normally gave nothing away, was frowning slightly. Johnny Stark walked past Carmody and sat down in a straight chair with his back to the terrace windows. He flicked his eyes around the room but kept his good ear cocked toward Ackerman like a wary dog.
“More bum tips?” Carmody asked Beaumonte.
“We weren’t at the track.” Beaumonte stared bluntly at him, his eyes narrowed and unfriendly. “I’ve got more to do than sit on my tail in the clubhouse.”
“I know you’ve got it rough,” Carmody grinned.
“Don’t be a comic. I’m in no mood for jokes.”
“I worry a lot about your moods,” Carmody said easily. “Sometimes they keep me awake all of five or ten minutes.”
The silence stretched out as Beaumonte walked to the coffee table, picked up a cigar and faced him from the fireplace. This put Carmody in the middle of a triangle, with Ackerman standing before him, Beaumonte at his side, and Johnny Stark at his back. A faint warning stirred in him. Trouble was coming; he could sense it in their deliberate manner and hard watchful eyes.
“I expected to see your brother last night,” Ackerman said. He was in a businesslike mood, his eyes frowning and black, his even features set in a closed, unrevealing expression. “What happened?”
“I explained that to Beaumonte.”
“Explain it to me,” Ackerman said coldly.
“My brother had a date and wouldn’t break it.”
“You’re sure he hasn’t changed his mind?”
“Of course not,” Carmody said.
Ackerman smiled faintly but it didn’t relieve the expression about his eyes. “I wanted to hear you say that, Mike.” He glanced at Beaumonte. “There it is,” he said.
“Yeah, there it is,” Beaumonte said.
Ackerman opened his mouth but before he could speak Nancy came bouncing into the room, carrying a drink in one hand and humming a song under her breath. “Hello, Danny boy,” she said, and skipped toward him with a series of intricate little steps. “I was dancing for Mike. He thinks I’ve got talent. Don’t you Mike?”
Beaumonte swore violently at her and pulled the glass from her hand. Liquor splashed on the front of her skirt and over the tips of her black velvet pumps. She backed away, staring at him guiltily. Her face was white and her hands came together nervously over her breasts. “Why did you do that, Dan?” she asked in a small voice.
“Dancing! You’ve also been swilling my liquor like a pig.”
“You said it was all right today.”
“And now I’m telling you different,” Beaumonte said, and hurled the glass across the room. It struck the wall beside one of his oils and shattered noisily. “I’ll kick you back to the gutter if you can’t stop acting like a rumhead.” He caught her arm and shoved her toward the wide doors of the dining room. “Get out of here and sleep it off, you hear?”
“Don’t shout at me, please, Dan,” she said, regaining her balance. “I’ll go, please.”
Carmody said softly, “Your manners stink, Beaumonte. Why don’t you try to match them up with your paintings and imported wines?”
“Keep out of this, Mike,” Beaumonte said, staring at him with hot furious eyes.
“Everybody relax,” Ackerman said, and the words fell ominously across the silence. Johnny Stark came quickly to his feet and moved in on the group, responding like a dog to Ackerman’s tone. Nancy backed slowly to the bar as Beaumonte mopped his red face with a handkerchief. “Okay, we’re relaxed,” he said, breathing deeply and staring at Ackerman. “Let’s get this over with.”
“Okay,” Ackerman said, in the same dangerous voice. He swung around on Carmody. “You’ve lied to us. You made no deal with your brother. We talked to him this afternoon and he threatened to arrest us if we didn’t clear out of his house. Got anything to say to this, you smart bastard?”
“I was working on him,” Carmody said slowly. Talking would help nothing; they had him cold. But he went on, anyway, stalling for time. “He didn’t like the idea, but I was softening him up. I could have brought him around.”
“You lied to us,” Ackerman said. “You were crossing me up, Mike. There’s a lot at stake in this deal but you couldn’t take orders. Well, I got no room around me for guys like you. You beat it now, and beat it fast.”
“You aren’t talking to a bellhop,” Carmody said. He didn’t know where this was heading and he didn’t care. “I don’t come and go when you press a button.”