formalities.” He pulleda bottle of cognac from his pocket. “I hope you like grape juice.”
The blonde shook her head. “Not when I’m talking business, I don’t.” She took the bottle from his hand, set it on the low coffee table fronting the couch, disappeared into the kitchen, reappeared with ice and glasses. “But don’t let that stop you.”
Liddell nodded, dropped three pieces of ice into the glass, drenched them down with cognac, swirled the liquid around the glass.
“Any word from Richards? Has he shown up yet?” the blonde asked.
Liddell shook his head. “I don’t think he will. Under his own power, at any rate.”
Margy reached for a cigarette, tapped it on the arm of the couch, fitted it carefully into a holder. “That’s just ducky for me.”
Liddell found a lighter, held it out to the girl, watched while she inhaled a lungful of smoke, blew it ceilingward. “Richards isn’t the only guy in town who could use a secretary.”
“The rest want one who can type, too,” she countered. “You don’t think I stayed around that fat slob because I wanted to?”
Liddell picked up a cigarette, leaned over, lit it from the one the girl held. His eyes took significant inventory of her assets. “Don’t tell me you had to play house with a slob like him. Not with that equipment.”
“A dime a dozen in this town, Liddell.” She leaned back, blew smoke at the ceiling. “You know, ten years ago when I hit this town I figured to have the world by the tail in twelve months. It worked out pretty nearly vice versa.” She grinned at him ruefully. “You don’t know it, but you’re sitting with Miss Chenango County of 1940.”
“I’m impressed,” Liddell told her.
“You should be. So was I.”
Liddell snagged his glass, took a sip. “You sure you won’t have just a touch?”
“Well, okay. Just a touch.” She watched while he filled the other glass with ice and tilted the bottle over. “Hey, hold it! That’s a heavy touch you got, mister.”
“How’d you come to tie up with Richards?”
The girl shrugged. “The usual story. Things didn’t break so hot, I got sick. He put up the dough, helped me get back on my feet. But by then the old fight was pretty nearly kicked out of me.” She took a deep slug out of the glass. “When Richards put the proposition up to me that he’d take on the bills from here in it sounded like the answer to a prayer.”
“And now?”
The blonde shrugged. “You tell me. I’ve known all along that someday I’d have a situation like this staring me in the face. It’s no prettier close up.”
“It’s not quite that bad.”
“No?” The blonde stared at him for a moment, got up from the couch, and disappeared into the bedroom. After a moment she was back with an official-looking paper in her hand. “Take a look at this.”
Johnny Liddell glanced at the paper, whistled softly. “A marriage license. You and the kid?”
Margy nodded. “Richards’s idea.”
“Kind of robbing the cradle, wasn’t it?”
“You think I liked the idea? He was a little creep. The only reason I went through with it was because Richards said it would protect the kid. He knew all about the markers Shad had written at Yale Stanley’s.” She reached over, picked Liddell’s cigarette from between his lips, took a deep drag, replaced it. “He was afraid Yale would force Shad to marry that little black-haired tart.”
“Terry Devine?”
Margy nodded. “You knew they worked Shad over about a week ago?”
Liddell nodded.
“They were trying to make him agree to go through with the marriage. Like that, Yale was sure of getting his money.”
“And he married you because Richards told him to?”
“He wasn’t much of a man, Liddell. He was scared to death of Richards.”
“But you married him, anyway.”
The blonde dropped her eyes. “It didn’t make much difference.” She shrugged. “There aren’t many real men out here. He was no worse than the rest, and
The blonde shook her head. “Not when I’m talking business, I don’t.” She took the bottle from his hand, set it on the low coffee table fronting the couch, disappeared into the kitchen, reappeared with ice and glasses. “But don’t let that stop you.”
Liddell nodded, dropped three pieces of ice into the glass, drenched them down with cognac, swirled the liquid around the glass.
“Any word from Richards? Has he shown up yet?” the blonde asked.
Liddell shook his head. “I don’t think he will. Under his own power, at any rate.”
Margy reached for a cigarette, tapped it on the arm of the couch, fitted it carefully into a holder. “That’s just ducky for me.”
Liddell found a lighter, held it out to the girl, watched while she inhaled a lungful of smoke, blew it ceilingward. “Richards isn’t the only guy in town who could use a secretary.”
“The rest want one who can type, too,” she countered. “You don’t think I stayed around that fat slob because I wanted to?”
Liddell picked up a cigarette, leaned over, lit it from the one the girl held. His eyes took significant inventory of her assets. “Don’t tell me you had to play house with a slob like him. Not with that equipment.”
“A dime a dozen in this town, Liddell.” She leaned back, blew smoke at the ceiling. “You know, ten years ago when I hit this town I figured to have the world by the tail in twelve months. It worked out pretty nearly vice versa.” She grinned at him ruefully. “You don’t know it, but you’re sitting with Miss Chenango County of 1940.”
“I’m impressed,” Liddell told her.
“You should be. So was I.”
Liddell snagged his glass, took a sip. “You sure you won’t have just a touch?”
“Well, okay. Just a touch.” She watched while he filled the other glass with ice and tilted the bottle over. “Hey, hold it! That’s a heavy touch you got, mister.”
“How’d you come to tie up with Richards?”
The girl shrugged. “The usual story. Things didn’t break so hot, I got sick. He put up the dough, helped me get back on my feet. But by then the old fight was pretty nearly kicked out of me.” She took a deep slug out of the glass. “When Richards put the proposition up to me that he’d take on the bills from here in it sounded like the answer to a prayer.”
“And now?”
The blonde shrugged. “You tell me. I’ve known all along that someday I’d have a situation like this staring me in the face. It’s no prettier close up.”
“It’s not quite that bad.”
“No?” The blonde stared at him for a moment, got up from the couch, and disappeared into the bedroom. After a moment she was back with an official-looking paper in her hand. “Take a look at this.”
Johnny Liddell glanced at the paper, whistled softly. “A marriage license. You and the kid?”
Margy nodded. “Richards’s idea.”
“Kind of robbing the cradle, wasn’t it?”
“You think I liked the idea? He was a little creep. The only reason I went through with it was because Richards said it would protect the kid. He knew all about the markers Shad had written at Yale Stanley’s.” She reached over, picked Liddell’s cigarette from between his lips, took a deep drag, replaced it. “He was afraid Yale would force Shad to marry that little black-haired tart.”
“Terry Devine?”
Margy nodded. “You knew they worked Shad over about a week ago?”
Liddell nodded.
“They were trying to make him agree to go through with the marriage. Like that, Yale was sure of getting his money.”
“And he married you because Richards told him to?”
“He wasn’t much of a man, Liddell. He was scared to death of Richards.”
“But you married him, anyway.”
The blonde dropped her eyes. “It didn’t make much difference.” She shrugged. “There aren’t many real men out here. He was no worse than the rest, and
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