Read Online The Ivory Grin by Ross MacDonald - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Ross MacDonald
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looking after things for Mrs. Larkin,” I said. “May I see her room account?”
“Certainly, sir.” Plucking a large card from a filing drawer beside him, he leaned confidentially across the polished counter top. “I do hope Mrs. Larkin isn’t checking out. She tips quite beautifully. It’s good for general morale among the help.” His voice sank to a bashful murmur: “She isn’t a Hollywood personality, by any chance?”
“I’m surprised she told you.”
“Oh, she didn’t
tell
me. I deduced it. I recognize real class. Of course I did have a clue.”
His polished oval fingernail pointed to the top of the card. Una had given the Hollywood-Roosevelt Hotel as her home address. Below it, only three items were listed on the account: twelve dollars for the suite, which had been paid in advance; a telephone charge of $3.35; and $2.25 for room service.
“She’s been here less than one full day,” I said in apenny-pinching way. “Three thirty-five seems like a lot of money for phone calls.”
His small mustache rose towards his nostrils as if it was about to be inhaled. “Oh no, it’s perfectly legitimate. It was all one call, long distance and person-to-person. I took care of it myself.”
“Isn’t that unusual?”
“I wish it were. The daytime operator goes off at five, and the night operator was a little late. I was at the switchboard myself when Mrs. Larkin called down.”
“At five?”
“Maybe one or two minutes after. I’d just sat down in front of the board that minute. Switchboards have always fascinated me.”
“You’re sure it was Mrs. Larkin?”
“Oh, absolutely. Her voice is quite unique. Is she an actress of some kind, a character actress?”
“You’re quite acute,” I said. “She is also a character in her own right. It’s hard to believe she’d spend that much money on a single phone call.”
“Just ask her!” He was cut to the quick, which was very near the surface. “Go and ask her.”
“Mrs. Larkin doesn’t like to be bothered with these trivial details. She employs me to protect her from them, in fact. Now, if it was a call to Detroit, I could understand it.”
“Ypsilanti,” he said eagerly. “It was to the Tecumseh Tavern in Ypsilanti. That’s right outside Detroit, isn’t it?”
I assumed a thoughtful expression. “Let’s see now, who does Mrs. Larkin know in Ypsilanti?”
“His name was Garbold. She asked for a man called Garbold, person-to-person.” But his eagerness was beginning to fade at the edges. He looked down at his vase ofcornflowers as if he suspected that noxious insects might be concealed among them.
“Of course. Garbold. Why didn’t you say so? There’s no trouble there. Mrs. Larkin will take care of it.” I scrawled my initials at the bottom of the card and left him quickly.
Una had been quicker. I knocked once on her door and got no answer. What I got was the feeling you get when you go to a great deal of trouble to hit yourself a sharp blow at the base of the skull with a rubber hammer.
The door wasn’t locked. The leopard coat was gone from the back of the chair. Bedroom and bathroom were as clean as a whistle. I left as Una had, by the fire escape.
In the alley behind the hotel, a woman in a shawl and a dragging black skirt was hunched over an open garbage-can. She looked up at me from an infinite network of wrinkles.
“Did a lady come down here? In a spotted coat?”
The ancient woman removed something from her mouth’s eroded crater. I saw it was a red steak-bone she had been gnawing. “Si,” she said.
“Which way did she go?”
She raised the bone without speaking, and pointed up the alley. I dropped the change from my pocket into her mummified hand.
“Muchas gracias, señor.”
Her black Indian gaze came from the other side of history, like light from a star a thousand years away.
The alley led to the hotel garage. Mrs. Larkin had taken her car out within the last five minutes. It was a new Plymouth
“Certainly, sir.” Plucking a large card from a filing drawer beside him, he leaned confidentially across the polished counter top. “I do hope Mrs. Larkin isn’t checking out. She tips quite beautifully. It’s good for general morale among the help.” His voice sank to a bashful murmur: “She isn’t a Hollywood personality, by any chance?”
“I’m surprised she told you.”
“Oh, she didn’t
tell
me. I deduced it. I recognize real class. Of course I did have a clue.”
His polished oval fingernail pointed to the top of the card. Una had given the Hollywood-Roosevelt Hotel as her home address. Below it, only three items were listed on the account: twelve dollars for the suite, which had been paid in advance; a telephone charge of $3.35; and $2.25 for room service.
“She’s been here less than one full day,” I said in apenny-pinching way. “Three thirty-five seems like a lot of money for phone calls.”
His small mustache rose towards his nostrils as if it was about to be inhaled. “Oh no, it’s perfectly legitimate. It was all one call, long distance and person-to-person. I took care of it myself.”
“Isn’t that unusual?”
“I wish it were. The daytime operator goes off at five, and the night operator was a little late. I was at the switchboard myself when Mrs. Larkin called down.”
“At five?”
“Maybe one or two minutes after. I’d just sat down in front of the board that minute. Switchboards have always fascinated me.”
“You’re sure it was Mrs. Larkin?”
“Oh, absolutely. Her voice is quite unique. Is she an actress of some kind, a character actress?”
“You’re quite acute,” I said. “She is also a character in her own right. It’s hard to believe she’d spend that much money on a single phone call.”
“Just ask her!” He was cut to the quick, which was very near the surface. “Go and ask her.”
“Mrs. Larkin doesn’t like to be bothered with these trivial details. She employs me to protect her from them, in fact. Now, if it was a call to Detroit, I could understand it.”
“Ypsilanti,” he said eagerly. “It was to the Tecumseh Tavern in Ypsilanti. That’s right outside Detroit, isn’t it?”
I assumed a thoughtful expression. “Let’s see now, who does Mrs. Larkin know in Ypsilanti?”
“His name was Garbold. She asked for a man called Garbold, person-to-person.” But his eagerness was beginning to fade at the edges. He looked down at his vase ofcornflowers as if he suspected that noxious insects might be concealed among them.
“Of course. Garbold. Why didn’t you say so? There’s no trouble there. Mrs. Larkin will take care of it.” I scrawled my initials at the bottom of the card and left him quickly.
Una had been quicker. I knocked once on her door and got no answer. What I got was the feeling you get when you go to a great deal of trouble to hit yourself a sharp blow at the base of the skull with a rubber hammer.
The door wasn’t locked. The leopard coat was gone from the back of the chair. Bedroom and bathroom were as clean as a whistle. I left as Una had, by the fire escape.
In the alley behind the hotel, a woman in a shawl and a dragging black skirt was hunched over an open garbage-can. She looked up at me from an infinite network of wrinkles.
“Did a lady come down here? In a spotted coat?”
The ancient woman removed something from her mouth’s eroded crater. I saw it was a red steak-bone she had been gnawing. “Si,” she said.
“Which way did she go?”
She raised the bone without speaking, and pointed up the alley. I dropped the change from my pocket into her mummified hand.
“Muchas gracias, señor.”
Her black Indian gaze came from the other side of history, like light from a star a thousand years away.
The alley led to the hotel garage. Mrs. Larkin had taken her car out within the last five minutes. It was a new Plymouth
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