Naomi’s smile reminded Joe of the cat with yellow feathers on its whiskers. She said, “Anything you say, Dicky.”
With Milly between Joe and Richard they drove North on Lexington in Raleigh’s coupê. Shermond followed in his shabby sedan with Naomi. Milly had apparently forgotten her resentment. Joe accepted the insistent pressure of her knee as a bid for amity. He was perfectly willing to forget it.
A block from the Harlem River they stopped in front of a small café. The metal sign swaying in the rain announced that Rupperts could be had there. Shermond’s car drew up behind.
The bartender, a fat Syrian with a dirty apron shielding his paunch, nodded to Dick as they took their seats. His little pig eyes were watchful. The only other occupants of the room, a man who looked like a Portuguese and a skinny negress, were drunk. Their voices rose shrilly.
Dick turned to South.
“You are a detective, aren’t you?”
Joe lighted a cigarette and blew smoke into Shermond’s eyes. He said, “You work fast, Raleigh. How about a ham sandwich?”
Dick signaled the bartender. Then he said impatiently, “Don’t try to kid me, South. You left the club to investigate my friends, didn’t you?”
The detective shouted to the bartender, “Put some mustard on it.” Then to Richard, “Friends?”
Richard grunted.
“This is all so damned silly. You’d think I was a one-year-old. Naomi, is this your idea or Uncle Park’s?”
Naomi’s eyes were mischievous. She reached over and touched his hand.
“Darling, it was part mine and part Uncle’s. If you hadn’t insisted on not letting me in on the fun I’d never have gone to Uncle Park.”
Dick’s mouth was tight. He snapped.
“You little fool. Why can’t you leave me alone? Fun! Nuts on that! You don’t know what you’re talking about!”
“Oh yes I do.” Naomi put her elbows on the table and cupped her chin in her hands. Joe thought she looked like one of those angel-faced choir boys who fill the roto sections at Christmas and Easter. He was sure now that her innocent tale-bearing had not been entirely responsible for Van Pelt’s and the older Raleigh’s interest in this business.
Milly, who had been silent since they entered the tavern, stared at Naomi malignantly and snarled, “I hate your guts, Naomi Raleigh. But take my advice and let Dicky paddle his own canoe. It won’t get you anywhere to butt in.”
Dick scowled. “Didn’t I tell you to keep those beautiful lips closed, darling? They look and sound a lot better in that position.”
Naomi became serious. “Look, Dick. I really was teasing you, but Uncle Park is worried. I came looking for you tonight to beg you to stop going on like this until he’s out of the hospital. If he hadn’t been worried he’d never have sent Mr. South to you.”
Dick said, “For heaven’s sake, don’t go melodramatic on me. I want to get this straight. Just what do you mean, go on like this?”
Joe decided this was his cue. He took a bite out of the ham sandwich and pointed a slice of dill pickle at Richard.
“I’ll tell you what you’re doing. You are acting like a one-year-old. Now I have no objection to your acting that way. You can be a dope if you want to. I’ve done about everything else and a job’s a job. If I don’t like changing your diapers at least I’m getting paid for it. You can run around with second-rate ex-torpedoes like Shasta and Wiener if you want to. Only get this straight”—he shook the pickle in Dick’s face for emphasis—“keep off the front page and out of the morgue. At least until after January 30. Then you can come over to my apartment and borrow my gun. I’ll let you blow your stupid brains out and I won’t even look up from the funny papers.”
It was the longest speech he’d made that night. He ended by snapping two inches off the pickle. If he had expected Raleigh to be angry he was disappointed. He had the mustache under control. For the first time Naomi looked at the detective without sympathy. She said angrily, “That’s about the poorest psychology I ever heard Uncle Park must have had a relapse when he hired you.”
It was all on the table now. There were no more references to Montana. Joe had known since before leaving the Timbuctoo that Raleigh was wise to him. This time there was affection in Naomi’s eyes as she touched Dick’s hand.
“Never mind, Dick. You know your business better than Joe South does. Only, darling, promise me you’ll be careful.”
Dick didn’t answer. He gazed moodily at Milly. Naomi pressed his fingers. “Promise,” she insisted.
Dick responded suddenly. He put his other hand over hers. He was still slightly drunk but his eyes were moody.
“All right,” he growled. “All you want is a promise to be careful I don’t know why. I hereby promise to be careful in all things. In crossing crossings cautiously; in not crossing platinum blondes; in not crossing business associates because my sister doesn’t like them. Okay, kid, I promise.” He smiled at her. “And now we’ve had enough gloom for one night. I’ll buy you a drink. In fact, I’ll buy everybody a drink.”
Joe nodded over the last crust of his sandwich. The mood of the party changed.
Naomi’s eyes brightened. She even winked at Joe. “Now we can have fun,” she announced and looked at Milly. “Come on,” she pleaded. “Don’t be a stick. What will you have, Milly?”
Milly’s smile was forced, but Joe gave her due credit. She said, “All right, Lady Astor. I can be as good a sport as you. I’ll have a daiquiri for a change.”
Dick said, “Atta girl! We’ll make it a celebration. Come on, South, you can drink a toast to mine and Milly’s engagement at the same time.”
Naomi said, “Are you going to start that again, Dick?”
“Start it!” Richard scowled into his drink and put a hand over Milly’s. “We’re going to finish it tomorrow. How do you like that?” He wavered against Naomi and put his face close to hers. “No more strings, eh, sis? No more lectures from Uncle Park and Stuyvie. I’ll show that Dutch uncle a thing or two. I’ve got more strings on my racket than Bill Tilden.” He straightened up and smiled at Milly. “This time tomorrow night I’ll have the license in my pocket, and by next week you’ll be Mrs. Richard Lyons Raleigh. How about it, mush-face?”
Milly was pouting. She giggled, “Dicky, I thought you said it was a secret.” But she was obviously pleased.
“Secret, hell! I’m tired of asking somebody every time I have to change my shorts. They didn’t think I’d do it. I’ll show ’em.”
Joe said, “Hadn’t you better have another drink and call it a night, Raleigh?” He grinned. “Drink twice before you speak. Them’s my motto. Then you can’t speak.”
Shermond looked pained all over again. He was trying not to look at Joe and Raleigh.
“Naomi, darling,” his voice was pleading. “I can’t stand much more of this. Must we stay?”
Naomi bent forward and stroked his chin.
“All right, precious. Just one little drink and we’ll go. Just for me? Please?”
Shermond shrugged without answering and looked at the greasy-paunched bartender with distaste. Joe ordered a Scotch and soda. The others ordered daiquiries. Shermond still refused.
The detective relaxed and smiled in response to Naomi’s wink. She was as good at it as Milly was with the giggles. Maybe she’d be fun if he didn’t have this job on his hands. She’d