small glass beside his plate.
“Sherry.”
She made a face. “Dreadful stuff. Hell on the liver. Vodka on the rocks is nice at this time of day. Or don’t you remember?”
“All too well.” Damon looked up at the waiter. “One vodka on the rocks.”
“Another sherry, Sir?” the waiter asked.
Damon shook his head. “I’ll make do with this. Take the rest of our order, please.”
The restaurant was well known for its French cuisine, but Elaine didn’t even look at the menu and ordered a hamburger with fried onions.
“Still on junk food, I see,” Damon said.
“The all-American girl,” Elaine said, laughing. “Or all-American lady, considering my age. Now—why are you so interested all of a sudden in my disreputable friends?”
Damon took a long breath, then speaking slowly and clearly to make sure Elaine understood every word, repeated the conversation over the telephone with Zalovsky verbatim, stopping only for a moment when the waiter returned with the vodka. It was a conversation that was not difficult to remember.
Elaine’s face turned grave as she listened, and she didn’t touch her drink until he had finished. Then she drank off half of it in one gulp. “What a sonofabitch of a night that must have been. No wonder you look the way you do. Do you know anybody called Zalovsky?”
“No. Do you?”
“No. I’ll ask Freddie, that’s my boy friend, if he does, but it’s an outside chance.”
“Does your Freddie indulge in a little blackmail when he’s not distributing slot machines?”
Elaine looked uncomfortable. “It’s possible. But only in the line of business.” She finished her glass and tapped it to indicate to the waiter, who was passing the table, that she wanted another one. “He knows about you, of course, but as far as he’s concerned, it could all have happened during the Civil War. The only agents he knows are from the FBI and the only thing he reads is the Racing Form. ”
“Are you ever in Chicago?”
“Oh, once in a while, when there’s a big race at Arlington or when Freddie asks me to go along on a business trip and we stop off on the way to Vegas.”
“Of course,” Damon said, “it might have been somebody’s idea of a nasty practical joke.”
Elaine shook her head. “It doesn’t sound like a joke to me. I don’t want to frighten you any more than necessary, but my guess is it’s a serious business. Dead serious. What do you plan to do when he calls you again?”
“I’m not sure. I thought you might have some ideas.”
“Let me think.” She sipped at her second vodka, lit a cigarette and tried to blow the smoke away with a gesture of her hand. “Well, I know a detective on the homicide squad. Do you want me to talk to him and find out what he thinks you ought to do?”
“I don’t like the word,” Damon said. “Homicide.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, “it’s the only detective I know.”
“Talk to him and thank you.”
“I’ll call you and let you know what he says.”
“Call me at the office. I don’t want my wife picking up the phone when Zalovsky calls again.”
“You mean to tell me you haven’t told her you’re being threatened?” He could see Elaine meant it as an accusation.
“I don’t want to alarm her unnecessarily.”
“Unnecessarily, for God’s sake. If you’re in danger, so is she. Couldn’t you figure that out? If, for some reason whoever is after you can’t get hold of you, what do you think they’ll do—join the Boy Scouts? They’ll grab her.”
“I haven’t had as much experience in these matters as you have.” He knew that she was right, but even so he knew he sounded sulky at her rebuke.
“Just because I go to Vegas a few times a year, don’t talk as though I was the queen gun moll of the Mafia.” Her voice was tinged with anger. “It’s just common sense, for God’s sake.”
“I suppose you’re right,” he said reluctantly. “I’ll tell her.” Another great night ahead at
“Sherry.”
She made a face. “Dreadful stuff. Hell on the liver. Vodka on the rocks is nice at this time of day. Or don’t you remember?”
“All too well.” Damon looked up at the waiter. “One vodka on the rocks.”
“Another sherry, Sir?” the waiter asked.
Damon shook his head. “I’ll make do with this. Take the rest of our order, please.”
The restaurant was well known for its French cuisine, but Elaine didn’t even look at the menu and ordered a hamburger with fried onions.
“Still on junk food, I see,” Damon said.
“The all-American girl,” Elaine said, laughing. “Or all-American lady, considering my age. Now—why are you so interested all of a sudden in my disreputable friends?”
Damon took a long breath, then speaking slowly and clearly to make sure Elaine understood every word, repeated the conversation over the telephone with Zalovsky verbatim, stopping only for a moment when the waiter returned with the vodka. It was a conversation that was not difficult to remember.
Elaine’s face turned grave as she listened, and she didn’t touch her drink until he had finished. Then she drank off half of it in one gulp. “What a sonofabitch of a night that must have been. No wonder you look the way you do. Do you know anybody called Zalovsky?”
“No. Do you?”
“No. I’ll ask Freddie, that’s my boy friend, if he does, but it’s an outside chance.”
“Does your Freddie indulge in a little blackmail when he’s not distributing slot machines?”
Elaine looked uncomfortable. “It’s possible. But only in the line of business.” She finished her glass and tapped it to indicate to the waiter, who was passing the table, that she wanted another one. “He knows about you, of course, but as far as he’s concerned, it could all have happened during the Civil War. The only agents he knows are from the FBI and the only thing he reads is the Racing Form. ”
“Are you ever in Chicago?”
“Oh, once in a while, when there’s a big race at Arlington or when Freddie asks me to go along on a business trip and we stop off on the way to Vegas.”
“Of course,” Damon said, “it might have been somebody’s idea of a nasty practical joke.”
Elaine shook her head. “It doesn’t sound like a joke to me. I don’t want to frighten you any more than necessary, but my guess is it’s a serious business. Dead serious. What do you plan to do when he calls you again?”
“I’m not sure. I thought you might have some ideas.”
“Let me think.” She sipped at her second vodka, lit a cigarette and tried to blow the smoke away with a gesture of her hand. “Well, I know a detective on the homicide squad. Do you want me to talk to him and find out what he thinks you ought to do?”
“I don’t like the word,” Damon said. “Homicide.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, “it’s the only detective I know.”
“Talk to him and thank you.”
“I’ll call you and let you know what he says.”
“Call me at the office. I don’t want my wife picking up the phone when Zalovsky calls again.”
“You mean to tell me you haven’t told her you’re being threatened?” He could see Elaine meant it as an accusation.
“I don’t want to alarm her unnecessarily.”
“Unnecessarily, for God’s sake. If you’re in danger, so is she. Couldn’t you figure that out? If, for some reason whoever is after you can’t get hold of you, what do you think they’ll do—join the Boy Scouts? They’ll grab her.”
“I haven’t had as much experience in these matters as you have.” He knew that she was right, but even so he knew he sounded sulky at her rebuke.
“Just because I go to Vegas a few times a year, don’t talk as though I was the queen gun moll of the Mafia.” Her voice was tinged with anger. “It’s just common sense, for God’s sake.”
“I suppose you’re right,” he said reluctantly. “I’ll tell her.” Another great night ahead at
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