Kill All the Young Girls

Chapter 3

In this light, at least, Kate Thackera seemed perfectly sane. She was strikingly well built, and the red dress she was wearing had been designed to call attention to that fact. She wore her black hair in bangs, long enough to hide her eyebrows when she raised them. Her eyes were wide-set, slightly slanting. Just then she tilted her head, her eyes closed down almost to slits, and her face broke up into happy laughter. But she looked less happy as Shayne got closer to her. Some of the laughlines had been put there by something else.

She was at the extreme end of the bar, sitting on a stool with her legs crossed, her skirt well up along her thigh. She had two men with her. Shayne squeezed into an opening beside a slightly built youth in glasses.

“Hey, Mike,” the bartender said in greeting. “Months and months. I’ve been keeping Hennessy in stock, and the bottle’s still three-quarters full.”

“I’d better start working on that,” Shayne said.

A cool black piano player in a tuxedo, the only member of his race and the only tuxedo in sight, was playing show tunes in an alcove between the bar and the large room beyond. Most of the drinkers on either side of Shayne had their elbows out, as though to discourage conversation. They looked straight ahead in silence at the dim mirror and the pyramids of bottles.

“Isn’t that Kate Thackera down there?” Shayne said.

The youth beside him tucked in his elbows and half turned, eager for contact. “In the flesh! And in the flesh she looks even better than in the movies.”

“Quite a bit of flesh showing.”

The youth laughed. “Man! A picture of hers came out when I was in college. On Fire: Did you ever see it? And she was so marvelous in it. I saw it eight times. Funny and sexy both; and in my book, that’s an unbeatable combination.”

“Who are the guys, do you know?”

The youth studied the group. “The small one, don’t you think he has something to do with show business? He has that sort of sneaky look. Somebody said the big guy is linebacker for the Dolphins, Doc something. I don’t follow the game.”

“Doc Black,” another drinker said.

“Sure,” Shayne said. “And you can tell from looking at him that he really likes contact.”

“He also likes to break up bars,” the expert continued. “I’ve got my track shoes on. The minute the argument starts I’m getting out of here.”

“She came in by herself!” the youth said. “I mean, Kate Thackera by herself, when she must know thousands of people in town. I thought I’d go over and introduce myself, but what a draggy scene it must be for somebody with any sensitivity at all. Fans,” he said. “That must be the worst thing about being a star.”

“I hear she’s trying to get the lead in that pirate movie,” Shayne said.

“No kidding!” the young man exclaimed. “Who told you that? I was thinking of hitching down to see if I could get on the set, but I don’t suppose they’d let me. They’ve got a couple of ships that are absolutely authentic replicas. A good, old-fashioned, slam-bang pirate picture. I think the public is going to eat it up. Do you agree with me?”

Shayne was willing to agree. The bartender brought his brandy and joined the movie discussion. Kate, talking with animation, used her glass to emphasize what she was saying and set it down only when it was empty. Going out of balance, she tipped sideward against the chest of the large man, who was heavily muscled, tall, and nearly bald. The other man, younger and narrower, with a nervous mustache, looked like a hustler. If he was in show business, as the youth suspected, it was on the fringes.

Shayne drank and watched. The youth beside him was trying to get Shayne to persuade him to go down and shoehorn himself into the conversation.

“Why not?” Shayne said agreeably. “If you really saw one of her movies eight times.”

“Minimum. I chased it around all over Boston. Whenever I went to a party in those days, I picked out the girl who looked most like her. And I got stung a few times. That crazy kind of look can fool you. Sometimes they really are crazy.”

He studied Kate. “It’s that quirk at the corner of her mouth. You know she’s bright, with a good sense of humor; and at the same time, she could be very loving. That’s her big asset — that little dint she gets when she smiles.”

“Not to speak of a great pair of tits,” Shayne added.

“Oh, the one thing she radiates is sex. Look around you. There isn’t a soul along this bar who isn’t thinking the same thing — involving Kate Thackera, a clear night, a bottle of wine, a sleeping bag.”

“She’s smaller than I expected,” Shayne said, keeping the conversation going.

“I like them small,” the youth assured him. “I like the top of their head to come up just about to my chin. I know if I spoke to her she’d be nice. She wouldn’t put me down. But the thing of it is, do I want to invade her privacy?”

“No harm in trying. I think she came in here looking for a little impromptu action.”

“Oh, I don’t agree. She’s not that type. My trouble is, I’ve never walked up out of the blue and started a conversation. That’s why I’ve missed out on so many things.”

The heavy-set football player, swaying, dropped one meaty hand on Kate’s thigh, as though to help her stay on the stool. The other man looked anxious and edged away. Kate didn’t seem to object to the hand. The big man shifted and came in against the bar and upset his drink reaching for it.

“Another round down here! Will you kindly snap it up and give us a little service?”

“Oh-oh,” the youth at Shayne’s end of the bar said. “Now if I wasn’t so chicken I’d go down and get everybody interested in something else. That creep is over the edge. Big son-of-a-bitch, isn’t he?”

“It’s simple,” Shayne said. “You just do it. Like this.” Pushing off the bar stool, he went down to the little group and told the linebacker coldly, “Take your hand off the lady’s leg.”

They looked at him. The football player seemed three feet across, and approximately as solid as an anvil. He was shorter than Shayne, but fifty pounds heavier. He carried a ridge of scar tissue over one eye, a jagged scar along the side of his nose. One of those specialized mutations who have been bred and trained for the single function of getting through to cripple the quarterback, he had the air of a man who considered himself a success.

“What did you say?” he asked incredulously. One of his important front teeth was missing.

“I said to put your hand back in your pocket. This is a public bar. People have a right to drink here without being groped.”

Kate recovered first. “Baby, this is nice of you, I suppose; but do I look like a damsel in distress?”

Shayne ignored her. “The moral standards in this town are going to hell, in my opinion. People seem to think that if they’re big enough and drunk enough, they can do anything they feel like doing; and nobody’s going to call them on it.”

The girl put one hand on his shoulder. “Before this thing escalates, will you let me say something? I make a point of not getting mixed up in brawls. I’m flattered, I honestly am. But I don’t need your help. I’m Kate. This is Max,” she said, indicating the smaller man, who had pivoted and taken a full step backward away from trouble. “And this is Doc; and believe me, that isn’t fat you see; it’s meat and muscle. Have a drink on us. I’m paying for this round. What’s your pleasure?”

He shrugged off her hand without looking away from the linebacker, who was blinking and breathing heavily through his mouth. “I’m still not making myself clear. This isn’t just a moral question. If anybody puts his hand on this lady’s ass to find out how much she’s got on under her dress, it’s going to be me.”

Kate looked for help. The bartender sauntered toward them.

“Come on, guys,” she said, “let’s negotiate this with the help of more of this nice booze. Football. That’s a neutral subject. What do you consider your greatest thrill on the football field, Doc?”

Doc, bubbling quietly, was clearly about to blow. The whites of his eyes were flecked with red. Shayne was crowding him, giving him no room to get set.

“Stop shoving,” Doc said, “or by God…”

Shayne dropped his hand onto the bar, palm up. The bartender reached under the rim of the bar, took out a flexible, black rubber club and put it in Shayne’s hand. At that moment Doc’s face went into a quick spasm. He grunted and swung his heavy forearm at Shayne’s face. Shayne stepped back and around and whipped the rubber club against his head behind one ear. There are worse places to be sapped, but this was bad enough.

The impact was hard and flat and cut sharply through the bar noises. The piano player broke off and looked over his shoulder, ready to jump. The big man’s forearm dropped of its own weight. His eyes had iced over, and his brain was in temporary short circuit. As he tipped forward, Shayne caught him under the arms and leaned him into the angle between the bar and the girl’s stool.

“Do we want to wait until he comes back?” he asked her. “I’m a big fan of yours. I saw one of your pictures eight times.”

Doc swayed, and Shayne wedged him in more securely. This was familiar country to football players. Doc had been here before. He kept moving his head, trying to understand what had happened. Apparently the rules had been changed — the quarterback had retaliated.

Shayne motioned to Max. “He’ll be okay if nobody breathes on him. If he asks about us, tell him we had to meet some people.” He dropped the rubber club on the bar. “Thanks, Jimmy. Very good timing.”

Kate slipped off the stool. “He’s going to want to tear off some heads. I feel it. Goodnight, everybody.” She clicked off, with everything moving. Shayne followed, and heads turned to watch them. Passing the bespectacled young man at the end of the bar, he remarked, “See how easy?”

“You saw her picture eight times,” the youth said bitterly. “That was going to be my line.”

The hotel lobby, into which they emerged, was crowded with plumbing supply salesmen, all wearing badges shaped like toilet plungers. The light was better here, and Kate raked Shayne with a quick appraising glance.

“I said goodnight everybody.”

Shayne grinned at her. “After sticking my neck out to keep you from being mauled? That’s not how the movies do it. The girl is grateful. She says let’s go someplace and find out if we swing the same way.”

One of the salesmen came twisting up out of the crowd. “Aren’t you Mike Shayne? Who always gets his man? Or his woman, as the case may be?”

“Move it along,” Shayne said harshly. “I’m trying to talk my new friend into having a drink.”

The salesman looked drunkenly at Kate. “Aren’t you Shirley MacLaine? You should do it. Have a drink with him. Don’t stand on ceremony. Life is too short. Do it.”

“Mike Shayne,” she said as the salesman weaved away. “That was how a sap happened to jump into your hand.”

“I operate around here. They know me.”

“I still don’t get it. I could have handled that guy.”

“Doc Black? You don’t know him. He was going to sit down after the next drink. Once down, those guys have a tendency to stay down. He’s been pushing that tackling sled around all day, and the club would have to send a tow truck for him. You don’t want to waste the evening.”

“Listen, do I hear a faint implication…”

“Nothing unnatural about it,” Shayne told her. “Doc comes in a bar, and the groupies gather. He’s so damn big. So solid. But usually they go to bed disappointed. He gets excited by all the attention and starts knocking over drinks.”

“Let’s make it more specific,” she said evenly. “Goodnight, Mr. Shayne. I have to make a phone call.”

“There’s a booth over there. Do you have change?”

She continued to look up at him. “I can’t stand smug people, even when they’re right. And you don’t happen to be right. I don’t pick up men in bars — not because it’s morally repulsive, but because it’s so damn chancy. I met Doc when he was in L.A. with the Rams. He was okay then.”

“He’s been unconscious a lot of the time since,” Shayne said, shifting ground slightly. “I thought he was about to start throwing bottles, and that’s the wrong kind of publicity for people in your line of business. If I made a mistake, I’ll go back in and apologize.”

“Better not,” she said with a laugh. “Let him recover.”

“You don’t really want to phone anybody. I don’t want to go on hitting people.”

“Well…”

“That’s a step forward. You’re thinking about it.”

She touched him suddenly under the arm. “Are you the kind of detective who carries a gun?”

“Not tonight, why?”

“I just wondered. Where would you like us to go?”

“That’s a problem. There are other bars in this hotel, and the town is full of hotels. But we’ll be bothered by people who want to tell you how many times they’ve seen your movies.”

“Mike, slow down. We’re off to a shaky start; and from now on, let’s do it like ordinary people.”

“Ordinary people have time. We don’t.”

He took her arm and drew her into a cleared space in front of a closed travel agency. “This is a pitch. I’ve just been discussing you with one of your fans, and he says the reason you’re in town is to get a part in a picture. If you get it, you won’t have any time for social drinking. If you don’t get it, you’ll take a plane out. Tonight we’re both free.”

“Damn you, will you give me a minute to think?”

“I’m trying to be realistic. A psychiatrist told me once that the reason actresses don’t like to sleep alone is that they’re used to performing in front of an audience.”

She made a fist. “One more remark like that and I’ll slug you. You’ll notice I’m wearing rings.”

“Say we go to the Deauville to see the comic who’s there this week. I’ve been told he’s good. The place will be full of tourists. ‘There’s Kate Thackera; let’s pester her for her autograph. Who’s the jerk with her, is he anybody? Do you think they’d mind if we join them?’ Or you’d run into somebody you’ve known longer than you have me…”

“Which is less than five minutes.”

“That’s what I’m saying. Which is less than five minutes, and you don’t know anything about me. What if I like to beat on my girls with high-heeled shoes? So you’ll try to slip out when I’m not looking, but I’ll catch up to you on the sidewalk and throw the other guy through a plate-glass window. Cops. Headlines.”

She was laughing. “You’re getting at something.”

“Let’s take a shortcut and go to my apartment. You’ll be fresher in the morning.”

“Or,” she said in a resigned tone, “you could stay here and have a drink in my room.”

“That would be even more practical. Then if I do anything too freaky, you can call the desk and have them come get me.”

She waited a moment and touched his arm. “I’ve been having a rough time lately. I won’t get maudlin or anything. But will you be… easy with me?”

“Yeah,” Shayne said. “We’ll hoist a few and stay off the serious subjects; and then if you’d like some solitude, I’ll empty the ashtrays and go home.”

“You may turn out to be a nice man, after all. I have bourbon upstairs. You’d better get ice.”