different, Marlowe."
I had nothing to add to that. I took a cigarette from her lacquered box and lit it and passed it to her and took another and lit it for myself. We lay quietly smoking.
"You think she's with Simpson?" I said.
She took in some smoke. When she let it out it drifted up and hung wispily above us as we lay on our backs.
"I don't know," she said. "I'm afraid that she could be."
"Tell me about him," I said.
Again the slow inhale and the smoke drifting lazily up.
"He's the… oddest man I know. He plays golf, for instance, on his own golf course, just him and his partner, and the bodyguards."
"The boys in the dark suits," I said. "I've met several of them."
"They surround him wherever he goes."
"Swell," I said.
"He's been married, but he's not married now, and he likes girls, but never for very long. And they always have to be brought to his home. And, ah, they, ah, all have to have a medical examination."
"See how easy I am," I said. "Um."
"You think Simpson got you to send Carmen to Bonsentir so Bonsentir could hand her along?"
"I don't know," Vivian said. "I'm afraid to know. I kept hoping maybe Eddie would somehow take care of it."
"He's tight with Bonsentir?"
"Simpson? Yes. He's more than that-he's, ah, he's dependent on him, I think."
"Dependent?"
"He's his doctor, but more than that he seems to be like a confessor, some sort of priest, as well as physician."
"And Eddie wouldn't talk to me about any of this when I asked him because you'd told him it was hush-hush."
"Yes. If Randolph's confidence is violated he is very unpredictable. It's not even that he's cruel, though he probably is. It's that he is so rich, so indescribably wealthy, that he does whatever he will, without thought, simply because he can."
"I'm glad for him," I said. "I'll settle for just ordinary riches, like yours. Shall we fly off to Tahiti and build a fairy-tale castle?"
"I wish we could," Vivian said. "It would be very attractive to think about it."
"You don't know who might be tailing me in a black Buick sedan, do you?"
Her whole body stiffened.
"My God," she said. "What if it's Randolph?"
"I'll take care of Randolph," I said. "He'll think he was in an avalanche."
"Maybe it's not Randolph," she said.
"Maybe not," I said. "Maybe it's Eddie. Or maybe it's the cops, though they don't usually do tail jobs in Buicks. Or maybe kindly Dr. Claude is having me followed. Or maybe it's a member of the Philip Marlowe Fan Club trying to get up her courage to ask for my autograph."
"Will you take care of me, Marlowe?"
"Sure thing," I said. "And I'll find Carmen too. I was tired of chess puzzles anyway."
CHAPTER 17
The Cypress Club was hopping. A doorman that was dressed like an admiral in the Yugoslavian navy opened the doors for me and I went into the hushed tension of the gambling club. I shook my head at the hat check girl and kept my hat on my head. In the main room there were people gathered under lowered lights around the tables. Everyone looked as if they were watching surgery. No one talked loudly, the bored voices of the dealers droned their dealer patter, the sound of chips and the whir of the roulette wheel was as loud as any human voice. It was never clear to me why people gambled since they seemed to enjoy it so little.
I drifted into the bar and ordered a Bacardi cocktail.
"Eddie around?" I said to the bartender.
"Don't know no Eddie, pal."
"Sure you don't," I said. "You never heard of Eddie Mars. He doesn't own this clip joint. You don't know who owns it. You just work here."
"If it turned out that I did know this Eddie guy, who should I say was asking?"
"Marlowe," I said.
The
I had nothing to add to that. I took a cigarette from her lacquered box and lit it and passed it to her and took another and lit it for myself. We lay quietly smoking.
"You think she's with Simpson?" I said.
She took in some smoke. When she let it out it drifted up and hung wispily above us as we lay on our backs.
"I don't know," she said. "I'm afraid that she could be."
"Tell me about him," I said.
Again the slow inhale and the smoke drifting lazily up.
"He's the… oddest man I know. He plays golf, for instance, on his own golf course, just him and his partner, and the bodyguards."
"The boys in the dark suits," I said. "I've met several of them."
"They surround him wherever he goes."
"Swell," I said.
"He's been married, but he's not married now, and he likes girls, but never for very long. And they always have to be brought to his home. And, ah, they, ah, all have to have a medical examination."
"See how easy I am," I said. "Um."
"You think Simpson got you to send Carmen to Bonsentir so Bonsentir could hand her along?"
"I don't know," Vivian said. "I'm afraid to know. I kept hoping maybe Eddie would somehow take care of it."
"He's tight with Bonsentir?"
"Simpson? Yes. He's more than that-he's, ah, he's dependent on him, I think."
"Dependent?"
"He's his doctor, but more than that he seems to be like a confessor, some sort of priest, as well as physician."
"And Eddie wouldn't talk to me about any of this when I asked him because you'd told him it was hush-hush."
"Yes. If Randolph's confidence is violated he is very unpredictable. It's not even that he's cruel, though he probably is. It's that he is so rich, so indescribably wealthy, that he does whatever he will, without thought, simply because he can."
"I'm glad for him," I said. "I'll settle for just ordinary riches, like yours. Shall we fly off to Tahiti and build a fairy-tale castle?"
"I wish we could," Vivian said. "It would be very attractive to think about it."
"You don't know who might be tailing me in a black Buick sedan, do you?"
Her whole body stiffened.
"My God," she said. "What if it's Randolph?"
"I'll take care of Randolph," I said. "He'll think he was in an avalanche."
"Maybe it's not Randolph," she said.
"Maybe not," I said. "Maybe it's Eddie. Or maybe it's the cops, though they don't usually do tail jobs in Buicks. Or maybe kindly Dr. Claude is having me followed. Or maybe it's a member of the Philip Marlowe Fan Club trying to get up her courage to ask for my autograph."
"Will you take care of me, Marlowe?"
"Sure thing," I said. "And I'll find Carmen too. I was tired of chess puzzles anyway."
CHAPTER 17
The Cypress Club was hopping. A doorman that was dressed like an admiral in the Yugoslavian navy opened the doors for me and I went into the hushed tension of the gambling club. I shook my head at the hat check girl and kept my hat on my head. In the main room there were people gathered under lowered lights around the tables. Everyone looked as if they were watching surgery. No one talked loudly, the bored voices of the dealers droned their dealer patter, the sound of chips and the whir of the roulette wheel was as loud as any human voice. It was never clear to me why people gambled since they seemed to enjoy it so little.
I drifted into the bar and ordered a Bacardi cocktail.
"Eddie around?" I said to the bartender.
"Don't know no Eddie, pal."
"Sure you don't," I said. "You never heard of Eddie Mars. He doesn't own this clip joint. You don't know who owns it. You just work here."
"If it turned out that I did know this Eddie guy, who should I say was asking?"
"Marlowe," I said.
The
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