Someplace things were coming to a head and here I was fiddling around with a naked doll, letting her wipe things right out of my mind. I picked up the phone, dialed my office number and triggered my recording gimmick. One call was from a West Coast agency wanting me to handle some Eastern details for them, the other was from a local lawyer who needed a deposition from me, and the third was from William Dorn who wanted me to call him as soon as possible. I let the tape roll, but there was nothing from Velda or anybody else. I broke the connection, waited a second, then dialed Dorn's office. His secretary told me that he had been trying to reach me, but had gone to a meeting in his apartment thirty minutes ago and I should try him there. She gave me the number and his address and hung up. When I dialed his place the phone was busy, so I gave it another minute and tried again. It was still busy. I said to hell with it, hung up and slapped my hat on.
Heidi had made herself another drink, but none for me. She knew it was over now. I said, "Tough, kitten. It might have been fun."
She took my hand and walked the length of the corridor, then turned and stood on her toes, all naked and beautiful, and reached for my mouth with hers. I let my hands play over her gently, my fingers aching with remorse because there wasn't time to do all the things I wanted to do with her.
Gently she took her mouth away and smiled. "Another day, Mike?"
"Another day, Heidi. You're worth it now."
"I think it will be something special then." My fingers squeezed her shoulder easily. "Dump those bums of Woody's."
"For you, Mike, anything." She stepped back two paces, an impish grin teasing her mouth, and did something with her stomach muscles.
That nutty eye that was her navel actually winked at me.
The doorman in the towering building on Park Avenue was an old pro heavyweight decked out in a blue uniform trimmed with gold braid that was too tight across his shoulders and his face was enough to scare off anybody who thought they could cross those sacred portals without going through the elaborate screening process that was part of the high rent program.
He half-stepped to intercept me when I came through the glass doors and I said, "Hi, Spud. Do I say hello or salute?"
Spud Henry squinted at me once, then stepped back with a grin that made his face uglier but friendlier and held out a massive paw to grip mine in a crushing handshake. "Mike, you old S.O.B.! How the hell are you?"
"Back to normal when you let go my hand." I laughed at him. "What're you doing here? I thought you had saved your money."
"Hell, man, I sure did, but try retiring around that old lady of mine. She drives me bats. All the time wants me to do somethin' that don't need doin'. Take the garbage out. What garbage out? Who cares, take it out. Paint the bathroom. I just painted the bathroom. The color stinks. Get those kids outa the back yard. Whatta ya mean, get 'em out, they're our kids. Man, don't never get married. It was easier fightin' in the ring."
"How many kids you got, Spud?"
"Twelve."
"How old's the youngest?"
"Two months. Why?"
"Some fighting you do."
Spud gave me a sheepish grin and shrugged. "Well hell, Mike, ya gotta take a rest between rounds, don't ya?" He paused and cocked his head. "What you doin' up this way? I thought you was a side-street type."
"I have to see William Dorn. He in?"
"Sure. Got here a little while ago. He got a crowd up there. Some kind of party?"
"Beats me. What's his apartment?"
"Twenty-two, the east terrace. Real fancy place. Since when you goin' with the swells?"
"Come on, Spud, I got a little class."
"That's big class up there, Mikey boy. Man, what loot, but nice people. Big tippers, always polite, even to me. Just nice people. When the last kid was born he gimme a hundred bucks. One bill with a fat one-zero-zero on it and it was like the days back in the Garden when they used to pay off in brand-new century notes. You want me to announce you?"
"Never mind. He called me. I didn't call him."
"Take that back elevator. It's express. Good to see you, Mike."
"Same here. Tell the missus hello."
I got off at the twenty-second floor into an elaborate gold-scrolled and marble-ornamented vestibule that reeked of wealth only a few ever got to know, turned east to a pair of massive mahogany doors inlaid with intricate carvings and set off with thick polished brass fixtures. I located the tiny bell button set into the frame, pushed it and waited. No sound penetrated through the doors or walls, nothing came up from the street and I didn't hear anything ring. I was about to touch it again when bolts clicked and the door opened and William Dorn stood there, a drink in one hand and a sheaf of papers in the other.
His surprise was brief, then he pulled the door open and said, "Mike . . . good to see you. Come in. I didn't know you were on the way up."
I didn't want to get Spud in a jam so I said, "I slipped by the doorman while he was busy. Sneaky habit I can't get out of."
Dorn laughed and closed the door. From the other room a subdued murmur of voices blended into a monotonous hum. I could see the backs and shoulders of a dozen men in quiet conversation and when one looked around I spotted Teddy Finlay with Josef Kudak beside him and a few feet away the six-foot-six beanpole from the Ukraine who made all those anti-U.S. speeches in the United Nations last month. This time they all seemed to be pounding at one nail with no disagreement for a change.
"Didn't mean to break in on your party," I said.
"Business meeting," Dorn told me. "Glad you could come. Let's go into the library where we can talk. Care for a drink?."
"No thanks."
He folded the papers in his hand and stuffed them in his pocket. "This way."
The library was another example of class and money. It was there in rare first editions and original oils, genuine Sheraton furniture giving obeisance to a great Louis XIV desk at one end of the room that nestled there like a throne.
"You ever read all those books?" I asked Dorn.
"Most of them." He waved me to a chair. Before I got comfortable he asked, "What happened to Renée?"
"She got creased by a bullet."
Dorn nearly dropped his drink. His mouth pulled tight and I saw his shoulders stiffen. "She didn't tell me ..."
"Don't worry, she's okay."
"What happened?"
"Nothing I'm going to talk about right now. Why?"
"She ... well, she's important to me, damn it. Right now we have a big expansion move on and ..." He looked at me, shook his head and glanced down at his hands that were clasped together too tightly. Finally he looked up. "It might be better if you said what you were thinking, Mike. I'm a callous person so wrapped up in business and finance that nothing else matters. Nothing is expected to interfere with those vital affairs."
"Don't sweat it, William. She'll be okay."
"Is she ..."
"Just a crease. She was real lucky. I'm surprised she didn't tell you about it."
"Renée can keep a confidence, even from me. I knew she was with you, but it was unlike her to ..."
"It was justified. Hell, doesn't she ever get sick?"
"Never."
"A dame got to get her period once in a while. That's usually a good excuse."
"Not with Renée. She treats ... commerce, let's say, almost as I do. You're the first one she ever took an active interest in."
"You don't know what you're missing," I said.
For a second a flash of annoyance creased his eyes, then disappeared into a wry smile. "You may be right. I've heard that before." He picked up a pencil and tapped it against the polished wood of the desk. "Mike ... do me a favor."
I nodded.
"Check on her. She won't answer the phone and I'd rather not bother her after what you just told me."