As soon as the red motorcycle had turned the corner he began to regret the impulse. It seemed a bit juvenile. But she had such a peculiarly delightful way of wrinkling her nose...
Paulie became totally incoherent over the bicycle. He was reduced to small jabbering, moaning sounds. He rode triumphantly up and down the driveway, his expression ecstatic. The doll was not a baby doll. It was a girl doll, a shade taller than Diana. It had long auburn hair, blue eyes, and freckles. Diana was completely awed.
Maybe it had been a mistake to let the kids have the gifts. But it was too late now to undo. And besides, Prade had seemed genuinely sorry, genuinely anxious to make some gesture. There was no obligation involved. At the moment, Steve told himself, they were even. And he certainly intended to keep it that way from now on.
Monday morning Steve went in to Mr. Ryan’s office and explained the broken hand. Ryan was a stocky, colorful man with considerable charm. He used it to promote the company contacts.
Ryan listened and made all the proper sounds of surprise and concern. “Lew Prade, eh? What’s he doing out there in your neighborhood?” He continued hastily. “Not that it isn’t a fine neighborhood. But that’s just it. It isn’t the sort of environment in which the Lew Prades of this world hang out.”
“You know him, then, George?”
“I’ve met him a couple of times. I know him by reputation. Hadn’t you heard of him before?”
“Seems I’ve seen his name in the papers. Not often.”
George Ryan leaned back in his chair and tapped his pencil against his chin. “He’s got a lot of contacts in state, county, and city government. He’s got a piece of Vogeling Brothers Construction. Even if we wanted city street-paving contracts, we couldn’t get them. The city engineer writes the specifications so that only the Vogeling equipment qualifies. Prade is tied in some way with Ross Farlini, and that means he’s got his fingers in a lot of dirty pies. I know he’s got bookie joints. And he’s part of the insurance combine through which the bookies pay off their bets. He books floor shows, and I’ve heard that if you want special entertainment for a smoker or something like that. Prade is the man to see. He floated to the top during the war. Black-market operations, they say. He was in gray-market steel for a while. Out of it now, I think. He’s been edging over into legitimate business. Taxis, restaurants, a restaurant-supply house.”
“You keep a pretty good dossier, George.”
“I have to watch those boys. There are times when we have to deal with them. Then it’s smart to know your man. I don’t know of Prade’s being mixed up in any actual violence, but an educated guess would be that he doesn’t go down any dark alleys alone and probably keeps a few boys around who have pistol permits. All in order, of course.”
“Where does Valley Vale come in? That’s where he sent me to have my hand fixed.”
“That’s Dressner’s outfit. Ross Farlini spent three months there after he was shot, a few years back. Some of our society names have taken the cure there. It’s a big plant, and even though his fees are certainly high enough, there must be some other source of income to keep it going. Some people say dope. I think Dressner is too smart for that. Others say he takes orders from Farlini and gets a fat retainer for maintaining a place where people can be hidden away. Dressner has a nice home right on the property. Swimming pool and all. I’ve been out there to parties a couple of times. He entertains pretty lavishly.”
“Prade talked to Dressner as if he were giving the doctor his orders.”
“That’s interesting. Could be. If Prade is Ross Farlini’s lieutenant in this end of the state then he could give the orders in Farlini’s name. And Dressner would have to take them.
“This fellow you hit — he’s in no danger?”
“According to Dressner, he isn’t.”
Steve’s attempts to ignore the hand were more determined than effective. By ten it seemed to be jumping up and down. But he was able to forget it for a time when the call came in from Gloria Hess.
“Mr. Dalvin? Gloria Hess. I called your home, and your Mrs. Chandler gave me your office number. I should have phoned you sooner. The flowers were a little — overwhelming.”
“I was afraid they’d be too spectacular. So I have to confess. They were sent as a gift to my wife, and the person who sent them didn’t know that my wife died over a year ago.”
“Oh, I didn’t realize — I’m sorry. But that doesn’t change the fact that you thought of me. I’m grateful. How is your hand?”
“It gets a little shrill now and then. Mending, I guess. Gloria, how about accepting a dinner to go with the flowers? Any evening. You name it.”
“I’m sorry. I’m really terribly busy. I couldn’t, really.”
“Oh. Mind if I try again sometime later in the week?”
“It really wouldn’t do any good, Mr. Dalvin. But thank you anyway, and thanks again for the flowers. If that hand gives you too much trouble please call Dr. Dressner right away, will you?”
“I’ll do that.”
“Good-by, Mr. Dalvin.”
“Good-by, Miss Hess.”
He hung up and stared moodily at the phone. He was restless and annoyed with himself. He didn’t feel that he’d handled the conversation very well. Seeing her again had become hugely important. Yet he had been unable to penetrate her cool and impersonal manner. It would be good to have dinner again with a pretty woman. To talk and laugh. Her hair had looked black, but in the sun it had little reddish glints...
He sighed and went back to the paper work. He decided against sending his girl out to get him a sandwich and milk shake, and went out into the lunch-hour throngs to walk off some of his restlessness. He thought he had settled permanently into a sort of placid contentment, but the strangeness of the weekend had brought back a lot of the old vague uneasiness.
Two blocks along Garland Street he noticed a lemon-yellow convertible with a black top parked at a twelve-minute meter. He waited for the light and crossed the street, not taking his eyes from the car. It was too much to expect to run into her this way. Just an identical car. Steve Dalvin, he thought, mooning around like a lovelorn high-school kid.
He drifted toward the car as unobtrusively as he could. He was furtively looking in at the seat to see if there was anything left there by which he could identify her when he heard her say, close behind him, “Don’t tell me you need another lift!”
He turned quickly, realizing that he was flushing. She stood tall and dazzlingly white in her uniform, hatless and with a drugstore package in her hand.
“I was hoping it would be you,” he said. “That was an unsatisfactory phone conversation, Gloria.”
“Was it? I’m so sorry.”
“There you go again. How do I break down that cold professional manner?”
“Why should you try, Mr. Dalvin? Excuse me, please. Dr. Dressner is waiting for this prescription.”
He held the car door open for her. She got in and slid across the seat behind the wheel, her eyes mild, her face expressionless.
“Just tell me this, Gloria. Do you have a personal, emotional reason for not having a dinner date with me?”
“I work very hard, Mr. Dalvin. I seldom leave the sanitarium. I hardly ever date anyone.”
“I just want to know you, Gloria. I’m not trying to be some kind of a wolf. Are you engaged or anything?”
“Dr. Dressner is really waiting for this, Mr. Dalvin.”
He sighed and shook his head. “I guess I can’t huff and blow your house down.”
Gloria had started the car. He leaned on the door. She looked at him. and for the second time he saw a small dancing light of humor in her eyes, accompanied by the oddly appealing little grimace. “Me and my brick house,” she said. She turned the ignition key. “Actually. Dr. Dressner is out on a call, Steve. You can buy me a quick coffee.”