Eve by James Hadley Chase Page B

about this, the clearer it became that I would have to leave Three Point I was going to see a lot of Eve. Living so far from her would not simplify our meetings. Three Point would have to go.
    I stubbed out my cigarette and walked over to the public telephone. I called my apartment.
    Russell’s voice floated over the line. “Mr. Thurston’s residence.”
    “I’ll be over some time tonight,” I told him. “There’s one thing I want you to do. You’ll find one of my books, “Flowers for Madam” somewhere around. I want it sent immediately to Miss Eve Marlow by special messenger. No card and nothing to show who sent it’ I dictated the address. “Will you do that?”
    He said he would and I thought I detected a faint note of disapproval in his voice. He was fond of Carol and always disapproved of any other woman I knew. I hung up before he could express an opinion which he was quite capable of doing. Then I left the bar and walked over to the Brown Derby.
     

CHAPTER SIX
     
    I FOUND Carol and Peter at a table away from the band. With them was a big, loosely built man in an immaculate tuxedo. He had a shock of iron-grey hair and his face was long and yellow with a thick loose underlip and a broad flattish nose. His grandfather could easily have been a lion.
    Peter caught sight of me as I edged my way past the crowded tables. He rose to greet me. “Hello there,” he said, looking surprised and pleased. “So you made it after all. Look who’s here, Carol. Have you had dinner?”
    I took Carol’s hand and smiled at her. “No,” I said. “May I join you?”
    “Why, of course,” she said. “I’m so glad you’ve come.”
    Peter touched my arm. “I don’t think you’ve met Rex Gold,” he said. He turned to the lion man who was still drinking his soup with fixed attention. “This is Clive Thurston, the author.”
    So this was Rex Gold. Like everyone else in Hollywood, I had heard a lot about him and knew him to be the most powerful man in pictures.
    “Glad to meet you, Mr. Gold,” I said.
    Reluctantly, he gave over drinking his soup and half rose, offering a limp, boneless hand. “Sit down, Mr. Thurston,” he said. His deep-set tawny eyes stared through me. “You’ll find the lobster soup excellent. Waiter!” He snapped his fingers impatiently. “Lobster soup for Mr. Thurston.”
    I winked at Carol as the waiter slid a chair under me. “You see, I can’t keep away from you,” I murmured to her.
    “Didn’t your publishers want to see you after all?” she whispered.
    I shook my head. “I phoned them instead.” Under the table I found and squeezed her hand. “It turned out to be nothing important so I’m seeing them tomorrow. I wanted to be in on the celebration.”
    While we were talking, Gold continued to spoon soup into his mouth, his eyes fixed in a glazed stare. It was obvious that he did not combine eating and talking.
    “I wondered if you were going to see your wild woman,” Carol whispered mischievously, “and that was the reason why you were passing me up.”
    “I wouldn’t pass you up for anyone,” I returned, trying to make my smile genuine. Carol had an uncanny knack of guessing the truth as far as I was concerned.
    “What are you two whispering about?” Peter asked.
    “Secrets,” Carol replied swiftly. “Don’t be inquisitive, Peter.”
    Gold finished his soup and dropped his spoon with a rattle. Then he scowled round for a waiter. “Where’s Mr. Thurston’s soup and what’s coming next?” he called as a waiter came scurrying up. As soon as he was satisfied that neither he nor I were forgotten, he turned to Carol, “Are you coming to the club tonight?” he asked.
    “For a little while,” Carol said. “But I don’t want to be too late. I’ve so much to do tomorrow.”
    The waiter brought me the soup.
    “You should always let tomorrow take care of itself,” Gold said, his eyes intent on my soup. I had a vague feeling that he would willingly take it from