Sixkill

36

Z was on the couch with his feet up, reading a newspaper. I was at my desk, looking at the list of people to talk with about Jumbo Nelson, when one of them walked in.

Alice DeLauria looked great. Black dress, three-inch heels, diamonds, and a perfect tan. She kept her sunglasses on. She saw Z and glanced at him without interest, put her small black purse on the edge of my desk, and sat in one of my guest chairs.

“You know my associate,” I said. “Mr. Sixkill.”

“I used to,” Alice DeLauria said.

Z shrugged and went back to his newspaper.

“Coffee’s made,” I said. “Would you care for some?”

“This is not a social call,” she said.

“I’ll take that as no,” I said.

“You recently lured my client to an office, where you bullied him and prevented him from leaving,” Alice said.

“I did,” I said.

“You admit it?”

“I do,” I said.

If she’d had facial surgery, it was good facial surgery. It was a very good-looking face, except there was nothing about it that indicated feelings. That might well have been no fault of the surgeon, if she had one.

“Our attorney has spoken to you already about harassing Mr. Nelson,” she said.

She took her sunglasses off and put them on the desktop beside her purse. Uncovered, her eyes were smaller than I’d expected, and about the color of blue slate.

“That would be Ratoff?” I said.

“It would.”

“I thought he represented AABeau Film Partners,” I said.

“We often consult with him,” Alice said.

“Well, tell him I’m harassing as fast as I can,” I said.

Alice looked at me silently for a bit.

Then she said, “Listen, hotshot. Jumbo tells me you know who my father is.”

“Yes, I do,” I said.

“And my husband.”

“Him, too,” I said.

“Why do you think I’m Jumbo’s agent?” she said.

“Because you love laughter and good times?” I said.

“Because Jumbo Nelson belongs to us,” she said.

“How so,” I said.

“We have too much invested in him,” Alice said, “for it to be otherwise.”

“Nicely put,” I said.

“I went to Barnard,” she said.

“The value of a good education,” I said.

“Yes,” she said. “Well spoken, well dressed, poised, and articulate,” she said. “I am also Nicky Fellscroft’s daughter, and Stephano DeLauria’s wife.”

“Which means?” I said.

“Which means if I need to cut off your balls,” she said, “I’m quite willing, and I have the means.”

“Are you flirting with me?” I said.

“You need to take me seriously,” Alice said.

“I know,” I said. “It’s one of my greatest failings.”

“Not taking things seriously?” she said.

“Yeah,” I said. “I’m ashamed, but there it is.”

Alice nodded slowly.

“You think,” she said, “that I’m some L.A. chick with pretty good legs...”

“Very good,” I said.

“Thank you, but here’s how it’s going to go,” Alice said. “I warn you to get as far away from Jumbo Nelson as you can, and stay there. If you don’t take the warning, some people will come around and hurt you. If you still don’t get the message, some people will come around and kill you.”

“Oh,” I said. “You’re not flirting with me.”

She looked at me steadily. There was very little in her smallish eyes that seemed feminine — nor, for that matter, quite human.

“Will you give it up?” she said.

“No,” I said.

Alice looked at Z.

“My advice to you, Injun Joe, is to stay out of this,” she said.

Z didn’t look up from his newspaper. Alice stood, picked up her purse, and put on her sunglasses.

“You’ll be hearing from us, soon,” she said, and walked out.