The Lock and the Key

Chapter Four

He held open the elevator doors for her and she entered without looking at him. He stepped in after her, let the doors swing shut and pushed the pearl button for 1. The elevator groaned and whined and began descending and Tommy, tingling in every nerve of his body, shot a surreptitious glance at Elizabeth Targ.

She was looking at the closed door, her mind elsewhere — in Trent’s apartment, no doubt.

Tommy thought: We’re all alone here in this little elevator. I wonder what d happen if I just grabbed her — and kissed her? What would she do? He answered the questions: She’s not the yelling kind and I don’t think she’d slap me or try to scratch my face. She’d probably just stiffen and not do a thing. Which, Tommy decided, would be worse than active resistance. Yet he still toyed with the idea. Of course he’d never see her again after now, but he could think about her for a long time.

Then suddenly she was looking into his eyes, coolly, impersonally and Tommy’s hand came up automatically. It stopped in mid-air. She did not even seem to notice.

The elevator came to a stop at the lobby floor and Tommy, with an inaudible curse, reached past her and opened the inner door. He held it with one hand and with the other pushed open the outer. Elizabeth stepped out of the elevator into the lobby without even a nod of thanks. He followed her through the lobby and again held the street door.

Out on the sidewalk he said: “I’m sorry, I can’t give you a lift. I came here in Trent’s car. Mine is over on Melrose.”

“That’s all right, I’ve got my own car here.”

She took a step, stopped and turned. “Maybe I can give you a lift.”

“It’s all right, I can walk down to the Boulevard.”

“Don’t be a fool,” she said. “My car’s right here.”

Tommy had already seen it, the yellow Cadillac convertible. She walked to it, got in on the curb side and closing the door remained seated on the right.

Tommy came up and she said: “I don’t feel like driving.”

He walked around, got in behind the wheel and saw that the brass key he had made for her the night before was in the ignition lock. He turned it. “This is the way you lost your keys last night.” He stepped on the starter, released the emergency brake and worked the car out into the street, making a sharp U-turn. He applied the brake as the car coasted down the hill to the next block where the street leveled off.

At Hollywood Boulevard he tooled the car toward the curb. “I can get a bus here.”

“Keep driving.”

“Where to?”

She made an impatient gesture. “Anywhere.”

He turned right on Hollywood Boulevard, thought better of it and at Cherokee turned left and again at Sunset Boulevard. At Cahuenga lie had to wait for the light, but when it became green, he turned the car right and sent it rolling toward Melrose. On Melrose he drove until he spied his own jalopy parked near the bowling alley. He pulled the Cadillac to the curb and shut off the ignition.

“What are you stopping here for?” Elizabeth asked.

“My car’s across the street.”

She looked at the bowling alley. “Can we get a drink in there?”

“Only beer.” He turned on the ignition again. “There’s a place over on La Brea.”

He waited a moment but when she did not speak again he stepped on the starter and worked the car out into traffic. Five minutes later he parked on La Brea and, climbing out of the car, walked around to the curb. He opened the door for her and she got out.

The Saigon Spa had bamboo on the outside and plenty of it on the inside. The waiters were Filipinos in Malayan costumes. The place was very dark, the tiniest of yellow electric light bulbs lighting up the individual booths. Rum drinks were a specialty of the house, but Tommy still felt the drinks from Willis Trent’s party and ordered bourbon and water for himself and Elizabeth.

Elizabeth, however, countermanded her own order and asked for a Demerara Dry Float.

“Pretty potent,” Tommy observed.

“The idea’s to get drunk, isn’t it?” Elizabeth retorted.

Tommy shrugged. “Suits me.”

Elizabeth looked at him sharply. “Actually you don’t want to get drunk at all, but you’d like to get me drunk, wouldn’t you?”

“You said that, not me.”

The waiter came with the drinks and Elizabeth tasted her heavy rum drink. She made a wry face. “Tastes like molasses.” She raised the glass. “How!”

Tommy drank half of his bourbon.

Elizabeth put down her glass. “Silly, isn’t it?”

Tommy was deliberately dense. “The drink?”

Being here like this. She laughed shortly. “I don’t even know your name.”

“Tommy Dancer.”

She repeated the name. “Tommy Dancer. Mine’s Elizabeth Targ.”

“I got it off the wheel of your car last night.”

“You remembered it?”

“I wanted to remember it.”

She looked at him thoughtfully. “Why?”

“Maybe because you gave me tire half dollar.”

She grimaced a little at that. “Stupid of me, wasn’t it?”

“I’m satisfied.”

“You’re satisfied with what?”

“Being here with you.”

She drank some more of the rum concoction and leaned back in her seat. She regarded him thoughtfully for a long moment. “Just what do you think of me, Tommy Dancer?”

Tommy’s eyes surveyed the table for a moment, then suddenly he raised them. “I think you’ve had a fight with Earl Faraday and—”

“Earl Faraday!” she cried.

“I’m not exactly blind.”

“Earl Faraday,” she repeated in a low tense tone. “If he were here right now I’d throw this glass in his face.”

“Sure,” said Tommy, “you probably would at that. And if Flo Randall were also here you’d pull out her hair or scratch her face.”

“Let’s get out of here!” she exclaimed and got to her feet.

Tommy tossed a couple of one dollar bills on the table and followed her out of the Saigon Spa.

Outside Elizabeth got into the car and huddled down in the seat. Tommy climbed in and started the motor, “Home?”

“No.” She looked at him. “Haven’t you got a place?”

“Sure, but it’s not much.”

“It’s better than sitting here in the car.”

That was the last word she spoke until Tommy parked the Cadillac in front of the dingy two-story stucco apartment building on Las Palmas Street, where for $35.00 a month he rented a one-room, kitchenette and bath apartment.

He got out of the car and walking around opened the door on her side. “You’re sure you want to come in?”

“Of course I’m sure!” she snapped at him and got out.

They crossed the sidewalk and Tommy opened the door of the apartment house. He had lived here almost a year, but not until now had he been aware of the cooking smells that permeated the corridors. They climbed the stairs to the second floor and walked to the end of the hall. Tommy unlocked the door of his apartment. He threw the door wide open and flicked on the light inside.

For just a second Elizabeth hesitated. Then she stepped into the apartment and shrugged off her mink coat. Tommy looked at the threadbare sofa, the scarred table across the room, the wide door that concealed the in-a-door bed, the blue rug that had seen better days many years ago, the open bathroom door and, on the right, the tiny kitchenette. He wondered if Elizabeth Targ had ever been in as shabby a place as this.

He closed the door. “I’ve got some beer in the icebox and I think there’s about a half pint of rye around somewhere.”

“I’ve had enough to drink,” Elizabeth said. She turned and looked at him. “Well?”

Tommy crossed to her and knew that he was trembling violently as he took hold of her. He could feel the involuntary shudder that ran through her body. He slipped his arms about her and, holding her close, pressed his lips to hers.

There was no resistance, no returned pressure, but something exploded inside of Tommy and he was suddenly kissing her savagely; her mouth, her cheeks, her forehead, her throat. And still she made no resistance.

Then suddenly he released her and stepped back. “Damn you,” he said savagely.

She cocked her head to one side. “What’s the matter?”

“You know very well what’s the matter.”

“Did I push you away?” She came toward him and kissed him, squarely on the mouth; a long kiss, but utterly without passion.

Again it was Tommy who stepped back.

“What do you want?” she asked.

“You!”

“I’m here.”

Tommy said bitterly: “You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. I want you more than anything in this whole damn world. I’d crawl on my knees to you — if you didn’t have Earl Faraday in your blood.”

She looked at him steadily for a moment, then turned and picked up her mink coat. She put it on and held out her hand. “My keys.”

“I’ll drive you home.”

“No.”

He handed her the key and she went to the door. Opening it, she said: “Good-bye, Tommy Dancer; thanks for everything,” and went out, leaving the door open.

Tommy stood for a moment looking at the door, then crossed and kicked it shut. Whirling, he headed for the kitchen where he found the part bottle of rye.