Hard Case Crime: Shooting Star & Spiderweb by Robert Bloch Read Free Book Online Page B

out and grabbed my wrist. “For God’s sake, sit down!”
    I smiled, but didn’t move.
    “Come on, everybody’s looking.”
    “And you don’t want anyone to see me walk out on you, is that it? Imagine the gossip! ‘Who was the unknown escort who staged a public walkout on glamorous Polly Foster the other night at—’ž”
    “Sit down! ”
    “Say you’re sorry.”
    “I’m sorry, damn you!”
    “There’s a sweet girl.” I sat down again. “But don’t ever accuse me of anything like that again. Poor but proud, that’s me. I’m no blackmailer.”
    “Sorry.”
    “I understand. Easy to make a mistake. The woods are full of them out here. Come on, let’s have another drink.” I signaled the waiter and ordered.
    “Trent guessed you were after shakedown money.”
    “Trent’s a slob.”
    “Isn’t he, though?”
    “What about Dick Ryan, was he a slob, too?”
    “ Must you drag him in?”
    “That’s what I’m here for, lady. Do you think I enjoy working evenings?”
    This time she nearly got up. “Well, of all the!” She dug her nails into the tablecloth. “There’s a million men who’d be damned glad to trade places with you right now.”
    “Sure.” I nodded. “I know all about that. Your Mr. Costigan has done a good job for you on the glamor angle. Now, about Dick Ryan—”
    “You don’t like me, do you?”
    “I never said that.”
    “What’s the matter? Are you a qu—”
    “Careful,” I told her. “Want me to get up again?”
    “Oh, hell!”
    “You know what I’d do if you were mine?” I said. “I’d wash your mouth out with soap. You swear too much, young lady.” I smiled. “Outside of that, I like you fine.”
    “Well, that’s certainly a load off my mind.” But she relaxed and lifted her glass. “You know, you’re kind of attractive, the way you get mad.”
    “Thanks. How about Ryan, now. Was he attractive when he got mad, too?”
    She groaned. “For—”
    “Careful!” I said. “No profanity. Not before dessert. Or will you settle for another drink instead? Good.”
    I ordered, and the waiter went away.
    “All right. You win. I’ll tell you what I can. But it isn’t much. Suppose you’ve read up on the case?”
    I nodded. “Got everything they printed. And I checked with Homicide on it, too. I don’t expect you have anything to add to the story you told them. What I’m interested in is a new lead.”
    The drinks arrived.
    “Seems to me the way to figure things out is to find out more about Ryan himself. What kind of a guy he was, what was eating him that made him get loaded that night, things like that.”
    “I see.” Polly Foster twirled the maraschino cherry in her glass. “Ryan was a louse from the word go, if you must know. Strictly a bad casting. He was a conceited ham, he was a tomcat who’d prowl anybody’s back fence, he was a lush, he was a double-crosser, and—”
    “He was also your lover,” I said, softly.
    She made a gesture midway between a shrug and a wince. “All right, if you want to be blunt about it. He was. I suppose you can’t figure out why.”
    “Yes I can. I’ve seen his pictures.”
    “Funny.” She stared down into her drink. “You get so used to the type that after a while you forget there are any right guys left. And of course, there’s always a line, some kind of phony front to fool you. Then afterwards, when you find out, you figure what the—” She smiled. “Whoops, nearly got the soap there, didn’t I?”
    I picked up her glass and held it out to her. “Wash your mouth out with this, instead,” I said. “I’ll order another.”
    She was beginning to get a glow, and that was good. “You know the last time anybody told me that?” she said. “Fifth grade. Old lady Perkins. Kid in back of me dropped an eraser down my neck and I hollered at him.”
    “I’ll bet they were all trying to drop things down your neck,” I told her. “Even when you had brown hair.”
    “How’d you know my hair was