Free The Girl, the Gold Watch and Everything by John D. MacDonald Page A

beyond the switchboard and yelled to Hoover Hess. Hess came out, rubbing his hands, projecting the smile of agony.
    "Kirb, buddy, you ready to talk business? You can't make a better—"
    "Not right now, Hoover. I'm a little too rushed. I was wondering about my stuff you've got here. I thought I'd—"
    "Understand, I'm a guy appreciates a sweet gesture, but I told you so long as I got the room down there, the storage was on the house, right?"
    "Yes."
    "And I'm the kind of a guy wouldn't change the deal on account of you inheriting big, right?"
    "But—"
    "So what I mean is, I'm touched by the fifty bucks, Kirb. It was a nice thing to do, believe me."
    "Fifty?"
    Hess looked shocked. "Was it more? Did those slimy bastards take a clip out of it on the way over here?"
    "Uh—no. It wasn't any more."
    "Rest easy, Kirb. They come and got the trunk and the big wooden case along about eleven this morning."
    "Who?" he said weakly.
    "The guys from the Elise! In the truck from the Elise! Chrissake, don't you even remember who you sent after it? Look, if you could come in and sit down for just five minutes, Kirb, I could fill you in on the whole picture. The way I figure, in exchange for consolidating the mortgages and bringing it down to an interest rate that makes sense, instead of the cannibal rates I got to pay, what you should have is a piece of it. I even got an inspiration about your name, to go with the place. The Winter House. How about that!"
    "Some other time, Hoover."
    "Any time you say. I'll drop everything. Everything."
    Kirby headed across the lobby toward the pay phone. He had to skid to a stop to let a sailor by. The sailor had considerable velocity. He was skidding across the tile floor, revolving slowly, his eyes closed. He was smiling. He carried on into three short wide men in tense argument over a racing form, catapulted the three of them into a couch and went on over with them as the couch went over backwards.
    He dialed Betsy's memorized phone number.
    "Kirby! I was about to come looking for you. I tried the hotel a thousand times. Are you there now?"
    "No. Look, I think you were right, at least a little bit right anyhow."
    "Thanks a lot!"
    "Don't be so sarcastic. The way things are going, how am I expected to trust anybody?"
    "Why Kirby, dear! Your teeth are showing."
    "I think I did a stupid thing. I mean I thought it was shrewd, but I was drunk at the time."
    "It's a poor week for it."
    "I know. But it worked, sort of. But I've got the idea they're going to be awfully damned mad. And I was supposed to meet her at two o'clock over there. She was going to take me shopping."
    "Standard procedure. She has a wonderful way of getting all her men to end up looking exactly alike. They all end up looking like fairy ski instructors. I think it's the tan, the sideburns and the ascot that does it. She's mad for ascots. And it's a long way after two, Kirby."
    "I have the feeling it wouldn't be too smart to go over there now. Let me tell you just what—"
    "Come on over here. We can talk. I hate phones."
    "I'd rather tell you over the phone."
    "Come on over here. I'm alone. We can thrash it all out."
    "But—but—but—"
    "Get over here on the double, you clown!" She hung up.
    A little word started bounding about in the back of his mind. It was made of fat little letters, fabric letters, stuffed. NINNY. The fabric, curiously, was the same shade of pink as the face of the lecher rabbit centered on Miss Farnham's gossamer funsuit. He squared his shoulders. He walked carefully around the broiling brutal confusion of cops, sailors and horse players in the front of the lobby, deaf to the resonant tock of hickory against bone, and took the single cab in front.
    As they pulled away, the driver said, "Like they got Saturday night on Monday afternoon in there, huh?"
    "What?"
    "The riot, man!"
    "Sorry, I didn't notice it particularly."
    After a long silence the driver said, "I don't know what the hell kind of date you got, mister. All