Crake walked back toward the bar and his coat flared open. “What’s the gat for Bo?” The bale of hay that was the bartender was glaring at him. “I wear it because it’s my friend,” said Crake”. The bartender wasn’t buying and shoved his face so close to Crake that he was nearly in his ear. “you don’t wear it in here”. Crake hit him twice…hard. The big guy flew backward and cleared a shelf of cheap bourbon on his way down.
In a minute the bartender came to his feet and began to knead his jaw. “You wear it in here,Bo” came from swollen lips as the big baboon refilled his drink. “This one’s on me.”
Things had calmed down enough for Crake to fire a question. “You ever serve a fellow named Motley in here?” The booze jockey didn’t hesitate. ” Sure, I knew Motley , came in all the time, he was a martini dry.” “He liked to drink and he liked the broads…. “spent a lotta green and didn’t cause no trouble…good customer.” Crake decided it was time to go for broke. ” Did he usually drink with a particular doll.?” The bartender made a face that looked like remembering and came across. ” Yeah he usually drank with a redhead that looked like a seven course dinner. Built. Classy bit of fluff.”
Crake thought it was time to go for the big prize. “Catch her name?” ” Uh yeah said the palooka..”.Marcie..,.Marcie Hagen.” That other scotch would have to wait, crake finally had a job to do. “Thanks for the drink”, said Crake and reached for his hat. The bartender rubbed his hand over his jaw and gave Crake a , “you bet. Listen, Bo, next time you come in, be nice.” Crake rewarded that with a smile and headed for a payphone with a little privacy.
Sighting over a finger, Crake ran down the page: Hagen, Mack… Hagen Madelaine, Hagen, Marcie. Crake snapped in a coin and fingered the dial. The answer was like a dive into velvet, the voice a near croon…” Hello?” The music of the word caught Crake off balance , like a short jab. He stammered, Is this Miss Marcie Hagen?” “Last time I paid my bills, I was” she half breathed into the phone.
“Well, Miss Hagen, my name is Benjamin Crake .” Crake liked to use ” Benjamin” it gave the whole business a little class. ” I’d like to talk to you about Clarence Motley.” There was a pause that was a little shorter than a fast haircut. Before Crake could say “are you there?” she answered with a slight stammer , ” Uh… Clancy, what about him ?” She didn’t sound so silky now. ” I didn’t cool him, shoe…what’s the beef?” Crake got the message that it was tine for straight talk. ” Do you drink in the afternoon , Miss Hagen?” There was no pause now. “Sometimes, Sugar … on a hot day.” Crake fired back, ” they don’t get any hotter, I’ll pick you up in twenty minutes. ”
Crake could taste that second highball and he picked up Miss Hagen in no time . He moored the DeSoto in front of the bar he had left with the prize of her name . They walked in, landed at a table and Crake walked to the bar with their order: Double Scotch and Pink Lady. Crake remembered extending his mitts to pick up the cocktails and then he didn’t remember anything for a long time.
About three hours later he woke uo with a screaming ache behind his left ear. He wished he could reach for the office bottle to clear his head. As the fog cleared , he saw a figure he knew bending over him. “Welcome back, Bo, sorry I had to sap ya.” “Thought you might like to meet a friend of mine.” A short blob of a man was standing behind the glass polisher looking like a cross between a fat iguana and and a short stack of hotcakes. He walked up to Crake and speared a square of paper toward him. It was a business card.
Crake wiped his eyes and read :
J Albert Montagu
Fine Floor Coverings
Holy League Imports
Van Nuys CA
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