Lager can? Fair enough; I’ll prove possession. Nola, give me an earring or a pin, something that’s unique, something only you would have. I’ll photograph it against your beer can and bring the picture. Then you’ll know damn well I’ve got the can and could turn it over to you at any time. When you’re sure I can deliver the goods we’ll get together on a settlement and—”
“We aren’t holding still for any pay-off,” Joe barked, but Nola seemed not to have heard. Her face grew thoughtful as she pointed her cigarette at me. “Naturally, Mr. Baker, you’ve worked out how all of these transactions will be handled.”
“Damn right. But at the moment, that part of the program isn’t pressing us any. Let’s just say that I realize my modus operandi is a little risky and that I’ve taken steps accordingly. Now how about an earring or some such thing?”
Nola reached one hand to her ear, then frowned and nodded slowly. “We can go at least that far without admitting a thing, I would imagine. Joe, suppose we go into the bedroom and select a trinket suitable for the picture. Will you excuse us, Mr. Baker.”
“Don’t horse around all day,” I said sharply. “I’ve got work to do.”
“You have other clients, Mr. Baker?” Nola asked.
“Never mind the humor,” I said grimly. “Let’s get on with the show.”
They were gone several minutes. When they came back, Joe fingered an ivory earring, a drop job with the dangling part carved in what looked like Chinese writing. He tossed it to me, and Nola sat down on the sofa, then forlornly cradled her head in her hands. Joe put a hand on her shoulder, then followed me to the door.
“Take it easy, Nola,” he said, his hand on the knob. “We’ll work it out somehow.
“And don’t call me; I’ll call you,” I said, and went out. Joe closed the door and tagged along, all the way through to the street before he caught my arm.
“Just a second, Baker,” he said stiffly. I stopped and looked down at him. “A little friendly advice: don’t push your luck. Maybe you can squeeze a few lousy bucks out of the kid on the strength of your nuisance value, but don’t try to go big. You’ll sure as hell wind up in jail.”
“You’re full of holes,” I said. “In the first place, she isn’t a kid. She’s all of twenty-eight and in full possession of her faculties. This isn’t a nuisance, it’s a hundred and fifty thousand dollars worth of publicity, and I’m not going to any jail; I’m going to collect a lot of dough. Now take off.”
I stood by the Ford and waited until Lamb got into his car. It was last year’s Plymouth sedan, ice blue and a nice wagon, but he didn’t dig out. He stalled a few minutes with a cigarette and then carefully worked the car out of his parking spot. When he drove past he didn’t give me a second look. I whistled softly and got into my hack.
It wasn’t hard to figure. Parking for the apartment building was down under the far end, and the entrance was on the back street. Nola had held up beautifully until the last, then put on the sad act with her head in her hands. But it was an easy guess that she had recovered and headed for her car to tail me the second her door closed. Why else would Joe Lamb stall around and talk to Eddie Baker?
I fired up the Ford, pulled out into the traffic on Los Feliz, and drove slowly in the right-hand lane, carefully going over the cars behind me in my rear-view mirror. When I made a right turn at Hillhurst, three cars in the block of traffic behind followed me in the turn. I swung right again at Kingswell, a small street, and two of the hacks in the string continued on down Hillhurst. Only one, an MG, made the corner with me, and it was keeping well back. All I could see was a head in a scarf of some kind, but when I went left and started south on Vermont Avenue, I still had company.
It’s a big city, L.A., and losing her wasn’t going to be any great chore, but I had to be sure I
“We aren’t holding still for any pay-off,” Joe barked, but Nola seemed not to have heard. Her face grew thoughtful as she pointed her cigarette at me. “Naturally, Mr. Baker, you’ve worked out how all of these transactions will be handled.”
“Damn right. But at the moment, that part of the program isn’t pressing us any. Let’s just say that I realize my modus operandi is a little risky and that I’ve taken steps accordingly. Now how about an earring or some such thing?”
Nola reached one hand to her ear, then frowned and nodded slowly. “We can go at least that far without admitting a thing, I would imagine. Joe, suppose we go into the bedroom and select a trinket suitable for the picture. Will you excuse us, Mr. Baker.”
“Don’t horse around all day,” I said sharply. “I’ve got work to do.”
“You have other clients, Mr. Baker?” Nola asked.
“Never mind the humor,” I said grimly. “Let’s get on with the show.”
They were gone several minutes. When they came back, Joe fingered an ivory earring, a drop job with the dangling part carved in what looked like Chinese writing. He tossed it to me, and Nola sat down on the sofa, then forlornly cradled her head in her hands. Joe put a hand on her shoulder, then followed me to the door.
“Take it easy, Nola,” he said, his hand on the knob. “We’ll work it out somehow.
“And don’t call me; I’ll call you,” I said, and went out. Joe closed the door and tagged along, all the way through to the street before he caught my arm.
“Just a second, Baker,” he said stiffly. I stopped and looked down at him. “A little friendly advice: don’t push your luck. Maybe you can squeeze a few lousy bucks out of the kid on the strength of your nuisance value, but don’t try to go big. You’ll sure as hell wind up in jail.”
“You’re full of holes,” I said. “In the first place, she isn’t a kid. She’s all of twenty-eight and in full possession of her faculties. This isn’t a nuisance, it’s a hundred and fifty thousand dollars worth of publicity, and I’m not going to any jail; I’m going to collect a lot of dough. Now take off.”
I stood by the Ford and waited until Lamb got into his car. It was last year’s Plymouth sedan, ice blue and a nice wagon, but he didn’t dig out. He stalled a few minutes with a cigarette and then carefully worked the car out of his parking spot. When he drove past he didn’t give me a second look. I whistled softly and got into my hack.
It wasn’t hard to figure. Parking for the apartment building was down under the far end, and the entrance was on the back street. Nola had held up beautifully until the last, then put on the sad act with her head in her hands. But it was an easy guess that she had recovered and headed for her car to tail me the second her door closed. Why else would Joe Lamb stall around and talk to Eddie Baker?
I fired up the Ford, pulled out into the traffic on Los Feliz, and drove slowly in the right-hand lane, carefully going over the cars behind me in my rear-view mirror. When I made a right turn at Hillhurst, three cars in the block of traffic behind followed me in the turn. I swung right again at Kingswell, a small street, and two of the hacks in the string continued on down Hillhurst. Only one, an MG, made the corner with me, and it was keeping well back. All I could see was a head in a scarf of some kind, but when I went left and started south on Vermont Avenue, I still had company.
It’s a big city, L.A., and losing her wasn’t going to be any great chore, but I had to be sure I
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