Ladies of Chance

Chapter 10

The address took me to the Northeast Bay section of the city, an old stone mansion that had been cut up into housekeeping apartments when the boom busted in ’26.

There were letter boxes in the vestibule. Over one was the name, Cherry Smith. The number was twenty-two. I prowled up a wide stairway to the second floor and found number 22. Voices floated over an open transom. I flattened myself against the wall and listened.

A man: “Going high-hat on me, eh?”

The girl: (softly) “No.”

“Then why do you want to get rid of me the moment I’ve made the pay-off?”

“I’m tired, Stormy. And I’ll have to be up late tonight.”

“Too tired to be nice to me, eh?”

“Your kind of being nice is pretty strenuous, Stormy.”

Silence. Subdued scuffling inside the room. A man’s heavy breathing.

“That wasn’t so hard to take, was it?”

“Will you go now, Stormy?”

“But it wasn’t, was it?”

“I don’t like to be slobbered on.”

Another brief silence.

“You’re driving me nuts, Cherry.”

“You’re doing that to yourself.”

“Goddamn it! Hasn’t any man ever waked you up?”

“Not that way.”

“One of these days I won’t be able to keep my hands off you.”

“Don’t come up here any more, Stormy.”

“Can’t stand the sight of me?”

“I’ve liked you until this afternoon. A lot.”

“Is that what you call liking a guy a lot?”

“As much as I’ve ever liked any man.”

“Nerts! Tell that to the Marines. A smooth number like you doesn’t grow up without knowing what it’s all about.”

“You’re spoiling everything by acting like this, Stormy.”

“Yeah? I should go on letting you play me for a fish and pretending to like it?”

“But I’m not playing you. I’m trying to be honest with you.”

“Why did you think I spoke up for you at first and kept you out of going into the regular racket like all the rest of the dames that can’t pay up?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Hell. I’m not. But you’re going to be sorry if you don’t make up your mind to do something about it.”

“I suppose you’ll assault me?”

“Damn your teasing little soul! That’s what you deserve.”

“I think you’d better go now.”

“Yeh. I’ll go. This time.” A chair scraping back. “I’ll take one kiss before I go.”

I moved away from the wall and down the hallway to a cross corridor. Standing out of sight, I heard the door open and slam violently shut. Heavy footsteps receded toward the stairs. I got a glimpse of a tall athletic figure with a gray fedora pulled low in front. Stormy went down the stairs and I waited two minutes, then walked casually to the door of 22 and knocked.

Cherry’s voice asked: “Who is it?”

I said, “Ed,” and turned the knob. The door opened and I went in. It was the tall, gray-eyed girl of the Axelrod tea. Her gray eyes were misted over and there wasn’t any sunlight to touch her brown hair to gold.

She stood in the center of the large room and looked at me. I closed the door and looked at her. The expression on her face made me pretty certain she was remembering our meeting at the tea. She wore a gray smock over a silk gown that had the sleeves rolled up. Waves of brown hair were fluffed out about her flushed face.

I put my hat down and said, conversationally: “I saw Stormy coming out. He looked mad enough to bite railroad spikes in two.”

She put her hands behind her on a center table, carefully, as though she needed support. “Who are you?”

“Ed Barlow.” I looked at her in surprise. “You’re Cherry, aren’t you?”

She nodded slowly. “I’m Cherry.”

It seemed to me that a hint of desperation lurked in her eyes. “Stormy didn’t see me,” I told her, “if that’s what you’re worried about.”

She shook her head. “I’m not worried about Stormy.”

“He’s plenty worried about you,” I told her breezily. “You’re the only girl he hasn’t bragged to me about.”

A little smile touched the corners of her mouth. It went away quickly. “I haven’t met you before.”

“I’m new at this end. Just getting squared around into harness.” I sat down and she remained standing.

“What... do you do?”

“This and that. Just now... with Lucy in the can for bumping Harry... I’m sort of taking care of her end.”

“What do you want with me?” Cherry sat down and became very matter-of-fact.

“What do most men want of you?”

“Aren’t you taking too much for granted?”

“Am I?”

She got up with a little shrug. “There are dishes in the kitchen waiting to be dried.”

I followed her into the kitchen. A dishpan full of dishes stood in the sink. I took the cloth away from her and began drying them. She sat down on a stool, propped her chin in her hand, and watched me gravely.

“Are you going out to the joint tonight?” I asked as I juggled knives and forks.

“The joint?”

“On Weston Avenue.”

“Yes. I have to take a couple of women I met today.”

“Perhaps I’ll see you there.”

She nodded, looking away quickly when I tried to see into her eyes.

I finished drying the dishes and dumped out the water. “Let’s go into the living room where it’s cooler.”

She followed me in, sat down in a deep chair facing me, took one of my cigarettes and leaned forward to get a light off my match.

“How can you take it?” I asked suddenly.

“The same way you do.”

“Hell, I’m a man. You’re the one that’s cheating on your sisters under the skin.”

She puffed on her cigarette. “It’s a living.”

“The easy way?” I sneered.

“Why not?”

I leaned back and decided I was getting nowhere fast. “Oh, the hell with it. Let’s get down to business. With Lucy out of the picture, I came to get some dope from you.”

“What sort of dope?”

“Well, I like to know where I stand. Stormy has charge of the joint, eh?”

“He’s the only one any of us come in contact with.” She opened her lips to say something else. Closed them without saying it.

“I was ordered to report to him... but that doesn’t mean I’m going to take orders from him.”

“You might be better off if you did.”

“Why?”

“I’ve heard whispers... that the person at the top is a woman... or a female devil.”

“I’d like to meet her.”

“They say no man has ever met her and been the same.”

“Bunk. Women don’t get under my skin.”

“Don’t they?” Cherry was smiling faintly.

“How many of you were working with Lucile?”

“Four of us have been working with her regularly.”

“How many other missionary groups at work?”

“Three or four.”

That was all I could get out of Cherry about the inside workings of the syndicate. Either she didn’t know, or wouldn’t talk.

I changed the subject before she might begin to think I was too curious for one supposed to be on the inside, and got up to go after talking about this and that without breaking through her reserve.

I’d tossed my hat on a little stand near the door when I came in. Picking it up, I was looking down at a round flat brass receptacle for calling cards. A large square one was on top. I blinked my eyes at the name: Herman Blattscomb.

Cherry was holding the door open for me. I went out wondering.