Read Online Solomon's Vineyard by Jonathan Latimer - Free Book Online

funny.” He giggled. “How about a dance with me?”
    The music started. Ginger looked at me. “Why not?” I said. “He's
buying us champagne, isn't he?”
    She didn't like it, but she danced with him. The one they called
Jonesy danced with the woman. That, left me with Davison. He hitched
his chair nearer to me.
    “What line you in, Mr. Smith?”
    I was going to tell him I sold machine-guns when I heard some cars
drive up. They come fast and skidded to a stop. “They're in a hurry,” I
said.
    “Drunks, probably,” Davison said. “What line did you say, Mr. Smith?”
    “Gunpowder.”
    His eyes widened. I heard the sound of voices at the front door.
Somebody said: “Open up.” Davison said: “That's a rather odd line.”
    There was an argument at the door. I recognized Gus Papas's voice. He
kept repeating: “The place is close. The place is close.” His voice was
high with excitement. “Like hell it is,” a deeper voice said.
    “Do you handle dynamite, too?” Davison asked.
    “Sure.”
    Ginger forced the guy in the white suit to dance close to the table.
He tried to kiss her neck. I couldn't hear the voices any more. Ginger
looked at me angrily, but I shook my head. “Who's your friend?” I asked
Davison.
    “Don't you know him? Caryle Waterman, of the Waterman Drop Forge?”
    “A big shot, eh?”
    “His family are worth a couple of million.” Gus Papas came into the
room. His face was green. He went behind the bar and turned off the
radio. He said: “There's some people outside want to speak to a girl
named Ginger.”
    Ginger got pale, but she didn't say anything. She stood in Waterman's
arms. He was holding her like they were still dancing. “There isn't any
Ginger here,” Davison said. Gus Papas looked at Ginger. “Pug Banta says
there is.” Waterman took his arms from around Ginger. “Gus,” he said;
“you have known me for a long time. You will believe me when I tell you
this girl is named Mrs. Smith.” I said to Gus: “He wants an excuse to
get in.”
    “Hokay,” Gus said. “I tell him to get the hell out of here.” He
started the radio again and went out. Ginger walked around Waterman and
came over to me. She was scared. “Sit down,” I said. “We've been
talking about explosives.”
    “Very interesting business,” Davison said. Waterman hung over the
back of Ginger's chair. He wanted her to dance again. “Come on, dear,”
he said.
    “You probably don't know, Mr. Waterman,” I said, “but they've found
nitro-glycerine to be very effective in putting out oilfield fires. Its
effect is like that of a giant blowing out a candle. However, it's very
dangerous to use.”
    “Who gives a damn about oilfields?” Waterman said. I heard angry
voices by the door. I heard someone cursing. Then there was a sound of
pounding. Somebody swore again, and a shot was fired. There was a
moment of absolute silence; then a volley of shots and a crashing of
glass.
    “My God!” Davison said.
    Gus Papas ran on to the porch. “Get inside,” he yelled, waving his
arm at us. “They shoot you here.”
    We hurried inside. Papas herded us into his office.
    Waterman asked: “What's the matter, Gus?”
    “Some people try break in.”
    “By God, they can't do that. Have you got a gun, Gus?”
    “You stay here. You no wanta get shot.”
    “Sure I do,” Waterman said.
    There was a new burst of shooting. Papas ran out of the room, closing
the door on the run. “If this isn't the damnedest thing!” Davison said.
    The woman, Winnie, said: “I want to get out of here.”
    “So do I,” Jonesy said. There was a silence.
    Winnie's voice whined: “I never could stand guns.”
    “It's quick,” Davison said. “Let's go now.”
    “I wouldn't,” I said.
    I tried the door while they thought this over. It wasn't locked.
“I'll take a look around,” I said.
    Nobody said anything. Waterman sat on a table by Ginger. She watched
me, trying to figure out what it was