“Noblesse oblige,” Miss Tinkham said. “When Velma and I finished our shopping, we went back to the Club, and Ethelbert had left a phone number with her office girl; he called five times.”
“Just talkin’ to him would gag a maggot,” Mrs. Feeley said.
“The end justifies the means. When she called him back, he said that Chartreuse wanted to go back to Arizona tonight but he laid down the law; if she went, she went alone.”
“How’s it stand now?” Mrs. Rasmussen wiped her hands on her apron and reached for the glass of beer Mrs. Feeley held out.
Miss Tinkham wiped her lips. “Chartreuse said the boat business was not paying off as expected. He said that the real money is in a night club like the Pango Pango and that he felt certain Velma could create some kind of position for him. He wanted a job where he could shine and he liked the sound Velma’s Cadillac convertible made when the door slammed.”
“What was Velma sayin’ all this time?” Mrs. Rasmussen said.
“She laughed that low, visceral laugh of hers and said that he who leaves too soon comes back too late.” Miss Tinkham beamed.
“Hook, line and sinker,” Mrs. Feeley said.
“What never ceases to amaze me about genus homo,” Miss Tinkham said, “is that frauds are completely gullible. A dishonest dollar appeals to them so much, they believe implicitly any tale about how to get one. Velma told him to insist that Chartreuse go down to the schooner alone tonight. She implied that if Ethelbert could come to the Club by himself and have dinner with her, she would tell him where the real money came from.”
“Can we watch from the booth?” Mrs. Rasmussen said.
Miss Tinkham said, “She has reserved the small booth next to ours. We can hear everything.”
At half past seven, Mrs. Feeley and her friends came through the back door of the Pango Pango and sat down in what they considered their private booth.
“Feel like I got my head in a churn.” Mrs. Feeley squirmed under the snapbrim Milan she wore.
“Neither of them has ever seen us,” Miss Tinkham reminded. “But one can’t be too careful.”
Ethelbert Tights’ Tyrian purple dinner jacket had satin lapels of exotic cut.
“I shouldn’t be surprised if they light up when car lights strike them,” Miss Tinkham murmured. “Isn’t Velma clever to keep him waiting?”
Miss Feeley dug Miss Tinkham violently with her elbow. She and Mrs. Rasmussen stared open-mouthed as Velma passed their booth, looking them right in the eye without betraying that she saw anything in the booth except the usual place settings.
“How do you do!” Mrs. Rasmussen whispered, as she squirmed round for a better look. Velma’s severely shingled gray hair glistened like newly polished silver. Her bangs fluffed up with artful casualness to create the effect of a little crown above her brow.
“Cheese! Lookit that dress,” Mrs. Feeley said. Velma’s dress was of black wool lace, closely patterned and dull-surfaced. It was lined with ruby-red thin jersey, cut to a deep scoop neck, almost off the shoulder. The sleeves were tight and bracelet length; the lines of the dress were princess, flaring to a lovely skirt that stopped ten inches from the floor. Around the neck and down the front of the dress, some of the pattern of the lace was picked out in tiny dull jet beads.
“I’ll just die if Chartreuse don’t see her in that rig,” Mrs. Rasmussen said. “Don’t know if they make dresses that cost five hundred dollars, but if they do, that one did. Nothin’ to it. No gingerbread.”
“All fluid line and texture.” Miss Tinkham sighed a little.
“What’s he say?” Mrs. Rasmussen whispered.
“Aw, you can’t hardly hear nothin’,” Mrs. Feeley beefed. “He’s tryin’ to chaw her ear off.”
Miss Tinkham breathed deeply of the rich, ambery fragrance Velma left on the air:
“Quelle smell!”
“She’s givin’ him the full treatment.” Mrs. Rasmussen grinned.
“All it takes is a little Moxie.” Ethelbert’s oleaginous voice came over the partition. “Not everybody would have the nerve to call up a classy dame like you. Here I am and here you are. Here’s to us!”
“She’s givin’ him the ol’ one-two with the eyes this minute,” Mrs. Rasmussen almost giggled, “right over the top of the glass.”
Velma’s clipped accents came over the partition at last. “But I lose money. Month after month…take a Monday, like tonight. The place is almost empty.”
“Don’t give me that stuff, honey. You got at least a half million-dollar setup here.”
“That’s true enough,” Velma said, “but it costs me that much to keep it open.”
“What do you use for money?” Ethelbert hinted delicately, “the swag your old man lifted?”
For a moment Miss Tinkham went cold all over. When Velma spoke, her voice was light and controlled.
“Money’s the easiest thing to get,” she paused, “if you know how.”
“Then why do you keep a losing proposition?”
“Where would I get my business deductions?” Velma said. “Once you have the right info, all you do is pick up a phone and from there on just endorse the checks.”
“He’s movin’ closer,” Mrs. Feeley said. “In another second he’ll be in her lap.”
“That’s the business for me,” he said grimly. “Listening to a bunch of batty women telling you about their belly aches and trying to find a way to free their souls! That’s peanuts, that stuff.”
“It is a pity,” Velma said. “You’re wasting yourself.”
“You got a bookie joint?”
“I’ll tell YOU, Bert.” Velma lowered her voice just a shade. “The money’s in the market.”
“Not in the stock market! You can lose your shirt in that!”
“Not if you have the straight dope…the mergers are where the heavy sugar lies. Buy in cheap and sell out high.”
“Sure! Just like that! A good-looking dame like you wouldn’t have any trouble worming the information out of guys, but take a struggling fellow like myself, here…”
“Here it comes,” Miss Tinkham breathed.
“I don’t get my tips from men,” Velma said softly.
There was a lengthy silence.
“So the women stockbrokers cut you in on the dope. There’s some slick operators among ’em. You oughta divvy up with a pal.”
“I don’t know any women stockbrokers,” Velma said.
“What do you want to torture me for?” His voice dripped honey. “If I had a chance to pick up some money that would let me travel in your class, you and myself could have a lot of fun together. I’m not the type to let a woman pick up the tab.”
Mrs. Feeley, Miss Tinkham and Mrs. Rasmussen rolled their eyes back in their heads until only the whites showed.
“You won’t believe this, Bert, but my prosperity is founded on faith.” Ethelbert’s snort carried across the partition. “You’re too worldly and skeptical. You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” Velma said.
“I’m worldly enough to know half a million bucks floating around loose when I see it,” Ethelbert said. “I’d be willing to take a little something on faith if I could make it pay off the way you do.”
“It won’t work if you go at it with your fingers crossed,” Velma laughed. “You have to do exactly what she says; follow her advice and tips without question…”
“I knew it was a woman,” Ethelbert said.
“A most unusual woman,” Velma said. “She comes high.”
“A medium?”
“No. A palmist. She gives life readings and you can ask her three questions.”
“You believe in that crap?”
“I’ve got more money than I know what to do with. You’re the one asking how to make some.”
“He needs a shave,” Mrs. Rasmussen whispered, “I can hear him rubbing his chin.”
“I guess you’re right, Velma,” he said. “They peddle us the info that they get from some manipulator. Wha
t’s the difference how they get the dope? She can tell me it comes out of a crystal ball. I don’t care how she finds out. How do I get there?”
“It’s a ticklish proposition, Bert.” Velma spoke slowly, weighing each word. “She has so many clients, all successful, and every one of them pledged to secrecy.” Velma paused. “I’d like to do it for you, but she’d find out. I tried to fool her once and she said ‘Stop wasting your time—and mine.’ I just couldn’t afford to do it, Bert.”
“You wouldn’t grudge a fellow a few bucks, Velma?”
“It’s asking quite a lot to ask someone you scarcely know to risk losing half a million yearly gross. She might cut me off.”
“You wouldn’t have to worry if I had the dough,” Ethelbert said. “I’d take care of you, Velma.”
“I’ll bet you would, Bert.” Velma’s voice was milk and almonds. “Madam never hits her stride much before midnight. If I do it, you’d have to swear never to tell.”
“I could say I walked in off the street,” he volunteered.
“I told you she was a mind reader, Bert. Don’t underestimate her, ever.”
“How the hell, then?”
“For you, I’ll do it. Maybe, for my sake, she’ll take you tonight. I’ll tell her you absolutely must have help with your love life. That’s not too much of a white lie, is it, Bert?”
“Baby, if you knew one quarter of what I go through with that sow…”
“Madam will tell you what to do. If you’re as smart as I think you are, you’ll follow her advice.”
“When it comes to the three questions, I can ask her about turning a fast buck.”
“That’s between you and Madam, Bert. Go and hunt up Chartreuse right now. Pacify her if you can. Don’t let her find you here with me. It would ruin all our chances of success. Imagine what a woman like Chartreuse would do with secret financial information if she had it!”
“Wouldn’t she give her right eye to get her tongs on it?” he said. “Velma, baby, there’s nobody in sight…couldn’t you? Just once?”
Miss Tinkham froze as she heard the genteel scuffle in the next booth.
“Ow-w-w-w-w-w!” Ethelbert’s yell of pain was genuine, but subsided quickly.
“Ummmmmmmm.” Velma purred. “Be in my office at eleven-thirty sharp. And make sure nobody sees you.”
“You’re right. I better track the old bat down,” Ethelbert said. “I’ll see you at the bewitching hour, my little Panther Woman!”
Mrs. Feeley peeped around the comer of the booth in time to see Ethelbert, minus the check, walking toward the revolving door, his white silk handkerchief held to his cheek.
“He’ll play hell explainin’ a door jamb with thirty-two teeth marks in it.”
“Come and join us, you little Panther Woman, you!” Miss Tinkham called over the partition. Velma lit a cigar and pushed back the table with a gusty sigh of relief.
“You could go for a actress, Velma,” Mrs. Feeley said.
Velma sat down beside them. “What a dog. I feel full of fleas.”
Mrs. Rasmussen stared at Velma’s round white neck and shoulders. “Can’t figure why you flatten all that out under them man-tailored suits.”
“More fun when you get dressed up,” Velma said. She flicked the ash neatly from her cigar and looked at Miss Tinkham. “I’ve got him softened up, ready for the kill. Tonight’s the night. Madam Gazza.”
Chapter 16
“ON THE DOT,” Mrs. Feeley whispered to Mrs. Rasmussen who sat beside her on the floor under her bedroom window watching the front unit closely. “Gawd, I hope I don’t go to work an’ sneeze, or nothin’.” The steps slowed down as Velma rang the bell of Red One. Deep chimes resounded mysteriously. A heavy velvet curtain over the door swept aside as though by magic.
“It’s awful dark in there,” Ethelbert Tights said nervously.
“’Tis too!” Mrs. Feeley whispered, straining her eyes to pierce the darkness. The only glimmer came from the street light, silhouetting the figures of the man and woman who stood in the doorway.
“It’s Velma, Madam Gazza.”
“Are you alone?” The deep voice boomed softly through the open window.
Mrs. Rasmussen jumped. “Too close for comfort!” She grabbed Mrs. Feeley’s hand. “Who’s that talkin’?”
“’Tain’t Miss Tinkham, that’s for sure! What you reckon they done with her?”
“Spooky as hell,” Mrs. Rasmussen muttered. “We could tell who it is if they’d just turn on some light in there. That’s Velma talkin’!”
“Madam Gazza, I bring you one who needs your help. He begs you to give him a reading. It is the only way to untangle his warped destiny.”
“Enter in peace.” The voice was calm. Slowly a rim of faint light came up around the baseboard area of the floor.
Clouds of heavy Oriental fragrance rose through the room and drifted into Mrs. Feeley’s bedroom from the window next door.
Mrs. Rasmussen pointed to a wire partition across one side of the room. “Ol’-fashioned hog wire painted gold. Lookit them gold chiffon drapes.”
A faint blue light rose behind a massive form seated on a low chair. “She’s fatter’n me,” Mrs. Feeley whispered. The figure wore a white satin mandarin coat, gorgeously embroidered, that sat loosely on the huge billowing body. The light from in back of the figure kept the face in deep shadows. The gold net barrier allowed only a glimpse of a brilliant Cambodian headdress. In the front of the mesh screen was a wicket with a shelf covered in black velvet. On the shelf reposed a large crystal ball. A slender hand beckoned toward the visitors across the crystal ball. Velma pushed Ethelbert forward.
“Sit down on the hassock. I am going, Madam Gazza.”
“Stay.” Mrs. Feeley grabbed Mrs. Rasmussen’s arm. Every word was low but plain, just as clear as though they were in the room with the palmist. “Stay until I see what the rivers of life say. Your hands, please.”
Ethelbert put both hands on the shelf awkwardly. Two hands reached round the crystal ball and took hold of his, turning them palm up. The long fingers of the right hand pressed a button on the shelf and a sharp beam of light was directed right into the palm of the man’s hand, lighting his face and throwing Madam Gazza’s face into almost total obscurity.
“You may go,” Madam Gazza said. “This one is worthy of our powers.”
“As you say, Madam. I’ll wait for you in the car, Bert.”
Mrs. Rasmussen could just barely make out Velma going through the curtain onto the driveway.
“That light in his eyes must bother him some,” she whispered.
“I ain’t even in there an’ I’m kinda bothered!” Mrs. Feeley muttered.
“Lines in your hand show, my dear, that you are a self-made man. She is seventeen years older than you; life is passing her by…”
“I’ll be damned!” Ethelbert exclaimed.
“I see healing from natural sources in your hand. You are beset, pursued by women. Your business associate is a woman, the same woman who is older than you. She is married but she does not live with her husband. She has you shut up in a cleft, a gulch between boulders, walled in on three sides by a great rock formation.”
“The canyon,” Ethelbert said.
“People come to you from great distances; they come seeking comfort, humbly, as pilgrims come. The woman who is your associate is jealous.”
“You can say that again,” Ethelbert said.
“She cannot help it.” Madam Gazza’s voice was grave. “She loves you and lives only for you. You may not realize it at present, but you will never be separated from her. You love her, whether you know it or not.”
“You’re wrong there, Madam,” he said.
“Time will tell.” Madam Gazza’s voice held deep assurance. “Time and the lines in your hand will show. Many women love you. There are two others who appeal to you particularly: one is your age, worldly, sophisticated, successful. She can give you everything financially. But you will never be master
in that house. Lines in your hand show an inability to hold on to money for long. You would not be trusted with the administration of a great business or any of the money.”
“Are you sure, Madam? This is what I came to find out about.”
“Quite sure. Do not drop the substance for the shadow! Work the vein of gold you now possess.”
“Gold?”
“More valuable than gold. The woman…” Madam Gazza let go Ethelbert’s hand and cupped her hands round the crystal ball, “the woman. Her name begins with C…”
Ethelbert shook his head.
“Look at that dirty skunk tryin’ to lie out of it,” Mrs. Rasmussen whispered.
“C-h…” Madam Gazza’s voice went on steadily. “C-h-a-r-…”
“Chartreuse,” Ethelbert muttered. “Okay. You win. So what about her? Where’s any gold except in her teeth?”
“She owns the property,” Madam Gazza said. “I can see it in my crystal. There is a winding road between pines and a large log cabin, near a corral.”
“It’s spooky,” Ethelbert said.
“I am a seer, one who sees. Would you care to look?” Madam Gazza’s voice was persuasive.
“Not me! Just tell me what makes you think I love her? I came to see you about another woman, the one I am really interested in.”
“I know why you came to see me. We have not yet touched on the other woman who appeals to you. She is in direct contrast to the other two: she is extremely young, a foreigner and very beautiful.”
“The little Hawaiian gal that sings at the Pango Pango. How does she feel about me?”
“She is flattered by the attention of a man of the world, but she is not for you, my dear.”
“No?” Ethelbert’s voice was sarcastic.
“No.” Madam’s voice was final. “You must stick to the woman who loves you, your associate. You will make the greatest tactical error of your life if you let her get away.”
“Get away? She’s not trying to get away. I’m trying to get rid of her.”
“You will kill the goose that lays the golden eggs. What you do after you make your position solid and secure is, after all, your affair. The property is in her name and you cannot come in on the money…”
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