to the shortages, I arrived here practically destitute.”
She said, “I’m surprised anything of Mel’s would fit you.”
He closed the closet door. “His backlog before he developed that paunch. He was skinny enough at Nassau.”
He transferred his billfold and car keys.
She said, “He even left you his car. You must have done him a favor once. I never thought he’d give away an old toothpick.”
He smiled. “He’s making up for all of it on the sublease. But I did do him several favors.”
”At Nassau,” she mimicked.
“Yeah. I used to speak to him.” He took her arm, steered her to the door. “Is your phone still disconnected?”
“Why?”
“Because I’ll start calling you the minute I’m back here.”
“I’ll call you when I get back.”
They were at the front door and she turned to him, into his arms. Her mouth was like her hair, flame. This time she broke from him. “You have a business date,” she reminded.
“Yeah.” He took his handkerchief, wiped his lips. “Somebody might be in that empty patio.”
She laughed. “The nice part about departing at noon, Dix, is that no one knows what time you arrived.”
They left together and he heard her footsteps passing the pool to her staircase. He knew he was behaving like a love-smitten sophomore but he waited by the entrance until she was on her balcony, until she lifted her hand to him in goodbye.
He’d left his car standing in the street. There hadn’t been time last night to put it away. He was pleased it was there, that he didn’t have to go through the back alley to get it out. He felt too good to do more than step into it and swing away on its power. He was even on time for the appointment with Brub.
He drove up Beverly Drive, turning over to the city hall. It looked more like a university hall than headquarters for the police, a white-winged building with a center tower. It was set in green grass, bordered with shrubs and flowers. There was nothing about it that said police save that the huge bronze lamps on either side of the door burned green. He climbed the stone steps and entered the door.
The corridor inside was clean and businesslike. A sign directed to the police quarters. He went up to the desk, it might have been the desk in any office. If it hadn’t been for the dark blue uniform of the man just leaving, it would be hard to believe this was the Beverly Hills police station. The pleasant young man behind the desk wore a brown plaid sports coat and tan slacks.
Dix said, “Brub Nicolai?” He didn’t know a title. “Detective Nicolai. He’s expecting me.”
He followed the young man’s directions up the hall entered another businesslike room. Brub was sitting in a chair. There were a couple of other men present, a little older than Brub, in plain business suits. They didn’t look any different than ordinary men. They were L.A. Homicide.
Brub’s face brightened when he saw Dix. “You made it.”
“I’m seven minutes early.”
“And I’m hungry.” Brub turned to the other men, the tall, lean one and the smaller, heavier-set one. “See you later.” He didn’t introduce Dix. But they were Homicide. It was in the way their eyes looked at a man, even a friend of one of their own. Memorizing him. Brub said, “Come on, Dix. Before I start eating the leg of a chair.”
Dix said, “Sawdust will give you a bay window if you aren’t careful.”
They walked down the corridor, out into the sunshine. “My car’s here.”
Brub said, “Might as well walk. We can’t park much nearer. Where do you usually eat?”
“If you’re hungry and don’t want to stand in line, we’ll go to my favorite delicatessen. Or the Ice House.”
They walked together the few blocks. The sun was warm and the air smelled good. It was like a small town, the unhurried workers of the village greeting each other in the noon, standing on the corners talking in the good-smelling sunshine. He chose the Ice House, it was the
She said, “I’m surprised anything of Mel’s would fit you.”
He closed the closet door. “His backlog before he developed that paunch. He was skinny enough at Nassau.”
He transferred his billfold and car keys.
She said, “He even left you his car. You must have done him a favor once. I never thought he’d give away an old toothpick.”
He smiled. “He’s making up for all of it on the sublease. But I did do him several favors.”
”At Nassau,” she mimicked.
“Yeah. I used to speak to him.” He took her arm, steered her to the door. “Is your phone still disconnected?”
“Why?”
“Because I’ll start calling you the minute I’m back here.”
“I’ll call you when I get back.”
They were at the front door and she turned to him, into his arms. Her mouth was like her hair, flame. This time she broke from him. “You have a business date,” she reminded.
“Yeah.” He took his handkerchief, wiped his lips. “Somebody might be in that empty patio.”
She laughed. “The nice part about departing at noon, Dix, is that no one knows what time you arrived.”
They left together and he heard her footsteps passing the pool to her staircase. He knew he was behaving like a love-smitten sophomore but he waited by the entrance until she was on her balcony, until she lifted her hand to him in goodbye.
He’d left his car standing in the street. There hadn’t been time last night to put it away. He was pleased it was there, that he didn’t have to go through the back alley to get it out. He felt too good to do more than step into it and swing away on its power. He was even on time for the appointment with Brub.
He drove up Beverly Drive, turning over to the city hall. It looked more like a university hall than headquarters for the police, a white-winged building with a center tower. It was set in green grass, bordered with shrubs and flowers. There was nothing about it that said police save that the huge bronze lamps on either side of the door burned green. He climbed the stone steps and entered the door.
The corridor inside was clean and businesslike. A sign directed to the police quarters. He went up to the desk, it might have been the desk in any office. If it hadn’t been for the dark blue uniform of the man just leaving, it would be hard to believe this was the Beverly Hills police station. The pleasant young man behind the desk wore a brown plaid sports coat and tan slacks.
Dix said, “Brub Nicolai?” He didn’t know a title. “Detective Nicolai. He’s expecting me.”
He followed the young man’s directions up the hall entered another businesslike room. Brub was sitting in a chair. There were a couple of other men present, a little older than Brub, in plain business suits. They didn’t look any different than ordinary men. They were L.A. Homicide.
Brub’s face brightened when he saw Dix. “You made it.”
“I’m seven minutes early.”
“And I’m hungry.” Brub turned to the other men, the tall, lean one and the smaller, heavier-set one. “See you later.” He didn’t introduce Dix. But they were Homicide. It was in the way their eyes looked at a man, even a friend of one of their own. Memorizing him. Brub said, “Come on, Dix. Before I start eating the leg of a chair.”
Dix said, “Sawdust will give you a bay window if you aren’t careful.”
They walked down the corridor, out into the sunshine. “My car’s here.”
Brub said, “Might as well walk. We can’t park much nearer. Where do you usually eat?”
“If you’re hungry and don’t want to stand in line, we’ll go to my favorite delicatessen. Or the Ice House.”
They walked together the few blocks. The sun was warm and the air smelled good. It was like a small town, the unhurried workers of the village greeting each other in the noon, standing on the corners talking in the good-smelling sunshine. He chose the Ice House, it was the
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