would dance heavily; he was heavy. But Kathie couldn't refuse. The relief at the table was almost startling as he moved away. Sergei's breath came out of his mouth in a rush. He said, "I get me fresh air." He was the color of his cigarette ash as he weaved away.
Con pointed to his receding back. "And when did you gather the little red flag to your heart, Kew?"
Kew's nose wrinkled. "He intruded. God knows how he does it. I'd only just met him in Hollywood but you'd think I owed him money the way he's hung on. Short of punching his nose I couldn't get rid of him."
"What does he want?" Dare asked it lightly.
"God knows."
Con snickered. "Maybe he'd like to take Kathie over."
Dare's voice lifted mockingly, "How did you entice the little princess to Avalon, Kew? You didn't tell me you had a rendezvous."
Kew was on the defense. "I'm not here with Kathie if that's what you are suggesting, Dare. I ran into her on the plane yesterday. That's all." He came around the table, touched Griselda. "Come on, darling. Dance. I don't like your husband or his friends."
He had rescued her from Con and Dare's joint happiness. But it was not that she might enjoy a moment of relaxation. For he asked almost at once, "Has Thusby any more on Shelley Huffaker?"
She almost started at the name. She'd been trying not to remember it tonight. Just as everyone at the table who knew had taken pains not to mention the case. She said, "No."
Even more startling came the next question, "You've been around Hollywood quite a bit. What-do you know about Vironova?"
Con was right; Kew wasn't interested in her beauty; he was a newsman pumping. But she made her answer thorough, "Very little, Kew. I worked on one of his productions. He is a crack director, one of Oppy's best. But I just don't like him. I've never cared for the type."
"Intuition or reason?"
"Both. Intuition strong. Reason—I don't like flashy bleached girls who endure anything for a screen test. And I don't like reptilian males who trade screen tests for flashy bleached girls."
His mouth said, "One of those." And then he asked. "You've never heard of him being tied up with Mannie Martin?"
Everything went around a circle and returned neatly to the missing man. She said, "He must have been. Sergei's radio play hour has been a feature for several years now."
"I mean more than that kind of deal." He was a superb dancer.
"I didn't know Mannie Martin. You know Hollywood. I'm one of the set that doesn't go to cafes or premieres or even stay home entertaining my hundred most intimate friends in my marble cottage."
Kew interrupted, "Everyone eventually turns up at the Derby."
"The day I go there is the day everyone else stays home. Or I'm at the Vine when they're at the Beverly. In other words, I never know the latest, Kew. A costume designer isn't much more important than a writer."
The music stopped its din. She put her hand on his arm. "You don't mind? I'd like a breath of fresh air." She didn't want to return to the major. She did want to talk with Kew. They walked out on the terrace. The moon was pointing one shimmering finger over the dark waters. She said slowly, "Tell me, why is Mannie Martin's disappearance so important?"
He flared his lighter for their cigarettes. Only men like Kew had handsome cigarette lighters that behaved impeccably. She was apprehensive from his expression that he would evade but he didn't.
"Because Major Pembrooke came west to make a deal with Martin."
She asked again as she had over and over, it seemed, but she kept her voice stifled and looked over his shoulders before speaking. "Who is Major Pembrooke?"
"A British officer—"
She broke in, "I've heard that one."
"There isn't another. He is in this country in the interests of a Pan-Pacific network, jointly held by Britain and us. Monitoring and field stations to be included. It would be important if the war moves to the Far Fast. Major Pembrooke has been studying our stations throughout the country, their
Con pointed to his receding back. "And when did you gather the little red flag to your heart, Kew?"
Kew's nose wrinkled. "He intruded. God knows how he does it. I'd only just met him in Hollywood but you'd think I owed him money the way he's hung on. Short of punching his nose I couldn't get rid of him."
"What does he want?" Dare asked it lightly.
"God knows."
Con snickered. "Maybe he'd like to take Kathie over."
Dare's voice lifted mockingly, "How did you entice the little princess to Avalon, Kew? You didn't tell me you had a rendezvous."
Kew was on the defense. "I'm not here with Kathie if that's what you are suggesting, Dare. I ran into her on the plane yesterday. That's all." He came around the table, touched Griselda. "Come on, darling. Dance. I don't like your husband or his friends."
He had rescued her from Con and Dare's joint happiness. But it was not that she might enjoy a moment of relaxation. For he asked almost at once, "Has Thusby any more on Shelley Huffaker?"
She almost started at the name. She'd been trying not to remember it tonight. Just as everyone at the table who knew had taken pains not to mention the case. She said, "No."
Even more startling came the next question, "You've been around Hollywood quite a bit. What-do you know about Vironova?"
Con was right; Kew wasn't interested in her beauty; he was a newsman pumping. But she made her answer thorough, "Very little, Kew. I worked on one of his productions. He is a crack director, one of Oppy's best. But I just don't like him. I've never cared for the type."
"Intuition or reason?"
"Both. Intuition strong. Reason—I don't like flashy bleached girls who endure anything for a screen test. And I don't like reptilian males who trade screen tests for flashy bleached girls."
His mouth said, "One of those." And then he asked. "You've never heard of him being tied up with Mannie Martin?"
Everything went around a circle and returned neatly to the missing man. She said, "He must have been. Sergei's radio play hour has been a feature for several years now."
"I mean more than that kind of deal." He was a superb dancer.
"I didn't know Mannie Martin. You know Hollywood. I'm one of the set that doesn't go to cafes or premieres or even stay home entertaining my hundred most intimate friends in my marble cottage."
Kew interrupted, "Everyone eventually turns up at the Derby."
"The day I go there is the day everyone else stays home. Or I'm at the Vine when they're at the Beverly. In other words, I never know the latest, Kew. A costume designer isn't much more important than a writer."
The music stopped its din. She put her hand on his arm. "You don't mind? I'd like a breath of fresh air." She didn't want to return to the major. She did want to talk with Kew. They walked out on the terrace. The moon was pointing one shimmering finger over the dark waters. She said slowly, "Tell me, why is Mannie Martin's disappearance so important?"
He flared his lighter for their cigarettes. Only men like Kew had handsome cigarette lighters that behaved impeccably. She was apprehensive from his expression that he would evade but he didn't.
"Because Major Pembrooke came west to make a deal with Martin."
She asked again as she had over and over, it seemed, but she kept her voice stifled and looked over his shoulders before speaking. "Who is Major Pembrooke?"
"A British officer—"
She broke in, "I've heard that one."
"There isn't another. He is in this country in the interests of a Pan-Pacific network, jointly held by Britain and us. Monitoring and field stations to be included. It would be important if the war moves to the Far Fast. Major Pembrooke has been studying our stations throughout the country, their
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