Hot Bullets for Love. Gentry Nyland

Hot Bullets for Love - Gentry Nyland


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. . . No. I expect I’d better call you Joe. We’re going to be together a lot.” Joe shuddered. The anything that might have happened was beginning to. He pictured himself trying to tail a couple of mugs with this gypsy girl-scout on his heels. She hadn’t paused for breath. “Joe, you’re not listening to me. Don’t you think I’m capable of taking care of myself? That’s the trouble with Dick and Uncle Park. They think I’m still a school kid. I know it would be thrilling to help you with Dick.”

      Joe was rude. He said, “Skip the melodrama, sister. You’ve been reading the tabloids.”

      His glance traveled to Charles and he wondered what the attraction was.

      He wasn’t aware that he hadn’t been listening until she said, “Why don’t you pay some attention to me, Joe? I just said Charles and I are going back to the Timbuctoo with you.”

      Charles was nervously toying with the pencils in his pocket. His remonstration was weak.

      “Darling, I think you’re overdoing this. I’ve told you before. Time will take care of it. Time cures everything.” He appealed to Joe. “Don’t you believe in Time, Mr. South?”

      “Yeah, Mr. Shermond is right. Time. Your Time is my Time. Good old Time. Time Marches On.” Joe humored the boy. Naomi’s smile was elfin. She was enjoying Joe’s levity.

      Enthusiasm came into Charles’ eyes. He offered the putty again. His voice was precise and dry. “Mr. South, you make me very happy. I didn’t expect to find you sympathetic. It goes to prove that the true understanding of Time has a leavening effect.”

      “You see,” Shermond said to Naomi. “Mr. South will handle the whole thing. It’s his job. Certainly you don’t wish to go to that awful place again.”

      Joe watched Shermond with renewed interest. There was going to be fun in this after all. He said, “What the hell! It’s okay with me if you go back. Do you suppose it will be all right with your brother?”

      Naomi shrugged.

      “Oh, Dick won’t make a scene. If that’s what you mean. He hates scenes.” She grinned impishly. “I’m the one who likes them.”

      Watching the rising excitement in her eyes Joe could believe it. This was going to be difficult. He’d probably never get rid of the brat now. He put a hand on her wrist.

      “Wait,” he cautioned. “We’ve got to make this look straight. What will your brother think if he sees us come in together?”

      That stopped her, but only for a second. She patted Joe’s hand.

      “You’re right, Joey. You go ahead and Charles and I will follow.”

      Joe groaned. On top of everything else she’d started that. What was it about him that made everybody call him Joey two minutes after they’d met him? As he entered the club the blonde hatcheck nodded to the orchestra leader. The band swung into Montana Moon. The music followed him to the table and ended with a crash of cymbals and bass drum as he sat down.

      Now who the hell had done that? It was his evening for bad breaks There was a round of applause. A few curious eyes swept his table. Milly was still alone, drowsily resting one cheek on her hand. An untouched daiquiri was at her elbow. Joe drank it and she sat up.

      Shermond and Naomi were elbowing their way toward the table Smoke swirled overhead like heavy mist. Naomi smiled at Milly, who merely glowered sulkily. Joe said, “Do you know these people, Milly?”

      Milly got up shakily. “Sure. Little sister Naomi and her lap dog,” and moved unsteadily away, holding on to the backs of chairs for support. Naomi’s smile was innocent.

      “I don’t think Dick’s fiancêe likes me very well.”

      Joe raised an eyebrow. “So she’s the one.”

      Naomi was shedding the slicker. Her lips came down in a grimace. “Oh yes. Didn’t you know? It’s part of the pressure he’s putting on Uncle Park . . . and me,” she added under her breath.

      They sat down. Joe eyed Naomi thoughtfully. “When is this to be?”

      Naomi shrugged. “Oh, he’s been threatening to do it for the last six months. It’s just another of his wild ideas. She’s probably his ‘secret weapon.’ ”

      Joe was angry again. Parker Raleigh hadn’t bothered to mention that small item. Small hell! Just an example of his expert side-stepping. No telling how much more he’d skipped. He shrugged. Good thing Van Pelt had hinted at it. He scowled and said, “How about a little drink?”

      Naomi grinned. “A very good idea.”

      Shermond looked at her reproachfully.

      “Please, dear, why do you come to these dreadful places?” He turned sharply as he felt a hand on his shoulder. It was Richard Raleigh.

      “Why the hurry, Charles, my boy?” He lurched and brought the ends of his mustache up for Naomi’s benefit. She half rose from her chair. Richard waved her back and looked at Joe. “Did Milly introduce you folks?”

      Joe said, “In her own sweet way.”

      Dick slid into a chair and looked around stupidly.

      “Where the hell did she get to?” he growled.

      Naomi shrugged and motioned across the room.

      “Looks like your future helpmeet found more desirable company. More of them anyway.”

      Joe had seen her at the same time. She was holding on to the back of the chair Dick had occupied at Shasta’s table. The dapper Italian had risen and appeared to be arguing with her. He had her by the arm. Dick got up and said angrily, “By heaven, I’ll break that greasy Dago’s neck!”

      Naomi started to protest, but at that moment Milly jerked away from Shasta and started drunkenly across the crowded floor. Dick met her halfway and led her back to his table. She didn’t sit down. She was watching Joe under her sultry lids. The girl turned toward him slowly, still staring. Suddenly, before any of them realized what was happening, she flung the cocktail she had picked up into Joe’s face. It was followed by an ashtray which missed. She did better with Richard’s fountain pen. It caught him squarely in the mouth. Ink splashed his shirt front. For the second time that day pens had been used as missiles. This time the ink was green.

      Richard acted fast. He had Milly’s arm behind her. She struggled and shrieked, “He’s a gol darned lousy detective!”

      Joe got up wiping his face with his napkin. The crowd stopped swaying and the band struck up a louder note. Dick said, “Let’s get out of here quick.”

      Joe was speechless. He knew his identity had been exposed somewhere along the line, but he hadn’t been prepared for anything like this. He picked up the fountain pen and dabbed at the ink with his napkin. He drank Shermond’s drink, then Naomi’s. His voice when he spoke to Naomi was hoarse. “Your little brother’s suggestion was pretty good. Let’s get going.”

      Shermond had disappeared in search of his car. Raleigh had ordered his sent over from a parking lot. Milly was ominously quiet. Cooking up more trouble, Joe thought. He decided to take a hand. The situation needed a little ironing out. He moved closer to Dick.

      “I don’t know what this is all about.” He nodded toward Milly. “I have no intention of getting mixed up with family squabbles. I think I’d better clear out and spend the night at a hotel.”

      It was a good try and Raleigh followed through.

      “Take it easy, South. Don’t let a little disturbance upset you. Naomi and I have had a disagreement, but then we always disagree. As for Milly, I should have known better. Three drinks and she accuses LaGuardia of being on Mussolini’s pay roll.”

      Milly jerked away from Dick, “It wasn’t my idea,” she spat. “One of your . . .” Dick slapped a hand over her mouth.

      He


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