Kells said: “Hello... Yes — fine, Stella... Who?... Not Kuhn, Stella — maybe it’s Cullen... Yeah... Put him on.” He waited a moment, said: “Hello, Willie... Sure...” He laughed quietly. “No, your car’s all right. I’ll send one of the boys in the garage out with it, or bring it out myself if I have time... I’m taking a powder... The Chief: six o’clock... Uh-huh, they’re too tough out here for me. I’m going back to Times Square where it’s quiet... Okay, Willie. Thanks, luck — all that sort of thing... G’bye.”
He hung up, went to the table and picked up one of the opened bottles. He said: “Do you want a glass or a funnel?”
Granquist took the other bottle and sat down. She jerked her head towards the phone. “Was that on the square — you’re going?”
“Certainly.”
“You’re a sap.” She tilted the bottle to her mouth, gurgled.
Kells went to a little table against one wall, took two glasses from a tray and went back and put them on the center table. He poured one of them half full. “No, darling — I’m a very bright fella.” He drank. “I’m going to get myself a lot of air while I can. The combination’s too strong. I’m not ambitious...”
“You’re a sap.”
Kells went to a closet and took out two traveling bags, a large suitcase. He took the drawers out of a small wardrobe trunk, put them on chairs.
“You’d run out on a chance to split fifty grand?” Granquist was elaborately incredulous.
Kells started taking things out of closets, putting them in the trunk. “Your information is worth more to Fenner than anyone else,” he said. “If it’s worth that much, he’ll probably pay it. You can send me mine...”
“No, goddamn it! You stay here and help me swing this or you don’t get a nickel.”
Kells stopped packing, turned wide eyes toward Granquist. “Listen, baby,” he said slowly, “I’ve got a nickel. I’m getting along swell legitimately. You take your bottle and your extortion racket and scram.”
Granquist laughed. She got up and went to Kells and put her arms around his body. She didn’t say anything, just looked at him and laughed.
The wide, wild look went out of his eyes slowly. He smiled. He said: “What makes you think it’s worth that much?”
Then he put her arms away gently and went to the table and poured two drinks.
At six o’clock the Chief pulled out of the Santa Fe station for Chicago. At about six-forty Kells dropped Granquist at her apartment house on the corner of Wilcox and Yucca.
“Meet you in an hour at the Derby.”
She said: “Okay — adiós.”
Kells drove up Wilcox to Cahuenga, up Cahuenga to Iris, turned up the short curving slope to Cullen’s house. The garage doors were open, he drove the car in and then went up and rang the bell. No one answered. He went back down and closed the garage doors and walked down to Cahuenga, down Cahuenga to Franklin.
He stood on the corner for a little while and then went into a delicatessen and called a Hempstead number. The line was busy, he waited a few minutes, called again.
He said: “Hello, the Mrs Perry... Swell... Listen: I’m going to be very busy tonight — I’ve got about a half hour... You come out and walk up to Las Palmas, and if you’re sure you’re not tailed come up Las Palmas to Franklin... If you’re not absolutely sure take a walk or something... I’ll give you a ring late... Yeah...”
He went out and walked over Franklin to Las Palmas. He walked back and forth between Las Palmas and Highland for ten minutes and then walked down the west side of Las Palmas to Hollywood Boulevard. He didn’t see anything of Ruth Perry.
He went on down Las Palmas to Sunset, east to Vine and up Vine to the Brown Derby.
Granquist was in a booth, far back, on the left.
She said: “I ordered oysters.”
Kells sat down. “That’s fine.” He nodded to an acquaintance at a nearby table.
“A couple minutes after you left me,” she said, “a guy came into my place and asked the girl at the desk who I was. She said, ‘Who wants to know?’ and he said he had seen me come in and thought I was an old friend of his...”
“And...”
“And I haven’t got any old friends.”
“What’d he look like?” Kells was reading the menu.
“The girl isn’t very bright. All she could remember was that he had on a gray suit and a gray cap.”
Kells said: “That’s a pipe — it was one of the Barrymores.”
“No.” Granquist shook her head very seriously. “It might have been a copper who tailed us from your hotel, or it might have been one of—”
Kells interrupted her suddenly. “Did you leave the stuff in your apartment?”
“Certainly not.”
Kells said, “Anyway — we’ve got to do whatever’s to be done with it tonight. I’m getting the noon train tomorrow.”
“We’re getting the noon train.”
Kells smiled, looked at her for a little while. He said: “When you can watch a lady eat oysters, and still think she’s swell — that’s love.”
He ordered the rest of the dinner.
Granquist carried a smart black bag. She opened it and took out a big silver flask, poured drinks under the table. “Just to keep our winnings turning,” she said.
The dinner was very good. After a while, Granquist asked with exaggerated seriousness: “Have I told you the story of my life?”
“No — but I’ve heard one.” Kells was drinking his coffee, watching the door.
“All right. You tell me.”
Kells said, “I was born of rich but honest parents...”
“You can skip that.”
He grinned at her. “I came back from France,” he said, “with a lot of sharp-shooting medals, a beautiful case of shell shock and a morphine habit you could hang your hat on.”
He gestured with his hands. “All gone.”
“Even the medals?”
He nodded. “The State kept them as souvenirs of my first trial.”
Granquist poured two drinks.
“I happened to be too close to a couple of front-page kills,” Kells went on. “There was a lot of dumb sleuthing and a lot of dumb talk. It got so, finally, when the New York police couldn’t figure a shooting any other way, I was it.”
Granquist was silent, smiling.
“They got tired trying to hang them on me after the first three, but the whisper went on. It got to be known as the Kells Inside...”
“And at heart you’re just a big, sympathetic boy who wouldn’t hurt a fly.”
“Uh-huh.” He nodded his head slowly, emphatically. His face was expressionless. “Me — I’m Napoleon.” Granquist took a powder puff out of the bag and rubbed it over her nose.
Kells beckoned a waiter, paid the check. “And beyond the Alps lies Italy,” he said. “Let’s go.”
It was raining a little.
Kells held Granquist close to him. “The Manhattan is just around the corner on Ivar,” he said,”but I’m going to put you in a cab and I want you to go down to Western Avenue and get out and walk until you’re sure you’re not being followed. Then get another cab and come to the Manhattan. I’ll be in ten-sixteen.”
The doorman held a big umbrella for them and they walked across the wet sidewalk and Granquist got into a cab.
Kells stood in the thin rain until the cab had turned the corner down Hollywood Boulevard, then he went back into the restaurant.
Ruth Perry was sitting in the corner booth behind the cashier’s desk. She didn’t say anything. Kells sat down. There was a newspaper on the table and he turned it around, glanced at the headlines. He said: “What do you think about the Chinese situation?”