Free Muller, Marcia - [McCone 03] Cheshire Cat's Eye, The_(v.1,shtml) Page A

Eight-thirty, nine."
    I looked at my watch. It was close to that now.
    French removed his feet from the chair where they'd been propped. "You're welcome to wait, if you can stand being in the same room with me. I'll even offer you a drink."
    "I can use one."
    "Fetch yourself a glass." He indicated the built-in cabinets on the far wall.
    I chose one from a collection of crystal. French produced ice from a silver bucket and poured, almost to the brim.
    "Has it often been your experience that people can't stand to be in the same room with you?" I asked, sitting.
    "Tonight it has." French refilled his own glass, not bothering with ice.
    "Who?"
    "You don't really care."
    "It's as good a way as any to kill time." Besides, Wintringham's pug-faced business partner interested me. I was certain I'd heard of him before, but I couldn't place where.
    "Yeah, I always heard private dicks were nosy and, being a woman, I guess you're doubly so."
    I fixed him with a stern gaze.
    "Aaaah, don't glare at me. I've taken enough shit tonight from Charmaine."
    I recalled the decorator's distraught state. "She bawl you out for leaving her at the show?"
    "Oh, you already heard. My fame spreads fast. Well, shit, she had her own car. And this chick needed a ride. Christ, McCone, Charmaine raised a big stink at the show and then when I got back here she wanted to start in again. What's the matter with you broads anyway? Get you in the sack a few times and you think you own a guy."
    I bit back harsh words. Arguing wouldn't get me any information. "So Charmaine is just a casual lay to you?"
    "They're all casual. When you've been around the business as long as I have, you learn to keep it that way."
    "The construction business?"
    He flashed me an exasperated look and gulped his drink. "No, McCone, not the construction business. The entertainment business. Don't you know who I am?"
    "No."
    "Ignorant, McCone, ignorant. I'm
the
Larry French. Promoter. Rock concerts. You heard of me. I made Bill Graham look like peanuts once."
    I had heard of him, but years ago. "You sponsored a lot of big tours. What happened?"
    "It got to be a pain in the ass, that's what happened. I took my bread and put it to work for me, instead of working for it."
    "Like with this project?"
    "This one I've been in on for a year, and before that plenty of other investments. I'm diversified. And I don't do a lick of work. Oh, I run around here to the job sites, make sure the workers know I've got my eye on them.
    But that's strictly a pastime. I don't give a shit about construction."
    "Nice. I wouldn't mind such easy work myself."
    "Yeah, you would."
    "Why?"
    His little eyes were shrewd in spite of the alcohol. "Because, McCone, you're the kind who gets a kick out of what you do. You're nosy, and you like to play tough, and you probably have some half-assed idea you're making the world a better place—only you don't own up to that."
    I felt a twinge of discomfort at the way he had me pegged. But, then, I also had him pegged. Larry French hadn't retired from the entertainment business because it had become a "pain in the ass." Not him—his type liked being in the limelight, wheeling and dealing, rubbing elbows with the stars. I wondered about the real reason he had bowed out, and decided I'd have to unearth it.
    The front door opened, and French looked up, bored with me, already hoping for a new face. I turned and saw David Wintringham.
    "Hi, Larry. Sharon, don't tell me you have something to report?"
    I'd decided not to tell him about Nick Dettman's threat until I could check up on the black man and assess how serious he might be. "Nothing concrete. I need more information from you."
    "Sure. Let me get a glass of wine, and I'll join you."
    French and I sipped our drinks in silence, waiting for Wintringham to return. He did, sprawling on a chair across from me and placing the jug of red wine between us. "What do you need to know?"
    "Let's start with this project. Is it in solid shape?"
    He