“You want I should get off the board?” the other woman said.
“No. Thank you.” Her voice was hoarse-deep, suggestive of the faint affectations of Eastern finishing schools, vaguely Hepburn.
She dived in with sleek competence, and he stood watching her as she made long, slow, tireless strokes, up and down the pool, gliding smoothly through the water. There was about her the look of ritual, of daily habit. He filed the colors in his mind, along with the precise look of her arm as it came out of the water, elbow high, cupped hand reaching ahead. He walked through into the second court, the one called the Palm Patio. It was a little after four. Part of the Palm Patio was roofed with glass. There were many tables, a small cocktail bar. A man in a white coat was transferring shaved ice from a tub on a cart into the bin in the back bar.
He glanced up and said, “I won’t open here for nearly an hour, sir.”
“I know. I was just looking around. I just checked in. I was wondering what people do around here this time of day.”
“A lot of them take naps. We aren’t very full now. A few will be out in the casino this time of day, just horsing around. It picks up later when it’s hot like this.” He picked a fleck of dirt out of the ice, upended the tub, banged on it with the heel of his hand, closed the bin. He gave Jay a sidelong glance. “You staying alone here?”
It was an odd question. “Yes, why?”
“I guess you won’t be lonesome around here.” The man snickered.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“It’s like this. We got maybe sixty women in the place. Most of them are on the six-week rate, and you know why they’re here. Then there are maybe eight couples on vacation, and about six or seven guys getting a divorce. In two days you’ll be hunting a club to beat them off with.”
“Are you kidding me?” Jay asked him.
“Why should I? Most of them are sorry they came here. When they find out it’s sort of dead it’s too late to change to someplace like Reno. They wander around town and get up hen bridge parties and yak all day and feel sorry for themselves. This town hasn’t really gotten going yet. Some of them are pretty terrible, but there are plenty of nice ones, and they’re all restless. A single guy here is like a WAC was overseas.” He looked at his watch. “I guess I could make you a drink a little ahead of time if you want, sir.”
“Martini on the rocks, please. But I don’t want to upset the schedule.”
“That’s okay. Once that sun is far enough gone to shadow the bar, it gets nice and cool here.”
The man mixed the drink with an expert flourish and set it in front of Jay. The small cash register tinkled as it printed the drink price. The man folded the tab lengthwise and placed it on the bartop.
Jay said cautiously, “I’d think some of these women, being restless like you said, might get into serious trouble.”
The man shrugged. “They don't seem to. Anyway, they’re shrewd out at the desk. They don’t let sharpies check in.”
“I stopped in town and asked about a nice place to stay.”
“Any place in town would send you here, sir. House rules, I guess. A man named Rice owns the whole works. He’s sunk a lot into it. He’s trying to get it over the hump.”
“The man I talked to, he said there’d been some trouble out here not long ago. Something about a woman drowning in the pool.”
The bartender’s eyes sharpened. “This fella you talked to, was he working in town? Behind a bar or something?”
“Yes. I don’t remember the name of the place.”
“Then he’s a damn fool. It’s worth your job around here to mention that little deal. Rice doesn’t like that kind of publicity.”
“What did happen?”
The man gave him a long look. “I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about, sir.”
“Okay. I was just curious. I’m not spying for Mr. Rice, if that’s what you think.”
“I don’t think anything,” the man said a bit sullenly. He began to polish glasses. Jay sipped his drink slowly. When it was gone he pushed the glass a half inch toward the back of the bar.
“Another?”
“Please.”
“That was dry enough?”
“It was fine, thanks.”
The man made the fresh drink and put it in front of Jay. He put the tab in the cash register and printed the second drink on it. As he put the tab down, he said in a low voice. “It was just one of those things. A nice gal. One of the prettiest ones we’ve had here. Somebody was a fool letting her get away. How she could keep you laughing. She had me laughing so hard lots of times I couldn’t mix drinks. She played hard. Too hard, maybe. On the go all the time. Too many glasses in her hand, maybe. Not a lush, but you know what I mean. The way I figure it, she came in late with a guy. Both loaded. Horsing around. Maybe there’s some crazy dare about going swimming with clothes on. Or maybe she just tripped and fell in. Anyway, she hits her head. The guy panics. He can’t find the pool lights. He can’t find her. So he beats it. Then in the morning the guy that takes care of the pool sees her. You ought to hear him tell about it. About looking down in the water and seeing her with her eyes open, and that pale hair floating out in the water, all dressed and everything. He just stood there like a woman and yelled his fool head off. If he’d been smart, they could have gotten her out of here before anybody knew a thing. He got fired for being that stupid.”
“They know there was a man with her?”
“One of the women woke up, and she said she heard people talking out there, and one of them was a man. That was three in the morning.”
“But they don’t know who the man was, eh?”
“No. You see she’d gone away for a couple of days, not telling anybody. And nobody knows where she went or who with. She came back in the small hours. They checked the body and found out she was loaded. I don’t know how they do that. Blood check or something. The women still yak about it. Rice hasn’t any way of shutting them up. Look, don’t tell anybody I was talking. I talk too much. My wife keeps telling me that.”
“I won’t mention it.”
The barman looked out across the patio. “Customers. And a couple of them who will maybe demonstrate what I mean. The redhead is a lush.”
Two women came up to the small outdoor bar and clambered onto the stools, saying, “Hi, Tommy.”
“Hello, Mrs. Thorne, Mrs. Northard.”
They were both in their early thirties. The redhead was chunky, and the brunette was spidery thin. The redhead pouted at the bartender. “All the time Mrs. Thorne, Mrs. Thorne. You were going to call me Kitty, Tommy.”
“Gee, they’d fire me, Mrs. Thorne. You wouldn’t want that to happen, would you?”
“If you don’t make me a better Old-fashioned this time, I don’t care if they do.”
“Same for you, Mrs. Northard?” Tommy asked.
Jay was aware of her birdlike, sidelong glance at him. “Today a gin and tonic, Tommy, please.” She turned and gave Jay a bright and toothy smile. “It’s such a refreshing drink, don’t you think so?”
“I guess it is.”
“Would you be a new member of the clan? Getting unhitched?”
“No,” he said awkwardly. “Just a vacation for a few—”
She held a thin hand out. “I’m Dora Northard.”
“John Shell.”
“And this is my friend Kitty Thorne, John. You don’t know how nice it is to see a new male face around this gilded henhouse, does he, Tommy?”