Free Up in Honey's Room by Elmore Leonard Page B

reveal that German U-boats caused the meat shortage, it’s a military secret. It becomes a mystery to the meat eaters. They cryand complain ‘Why is there no meat for us? Why are we giving our meat to the Russians?’”
    He told Otto, “Go to a high-class restaurant or a nightclub and order a steak. Don’t faint when I say it will cost you as much as seven dollars. You believe people will pay that much for a porterhouse steak? They do, because so many are making money working in war plants. Some of them eat out three times a day. You can buy black market meat almost anywhere. A chuck roast with a ceiling price of thirty-one cents a pound? Maybe you pay seventy-five cents a pound if you must have it. Pay the price, you don’t have to give the butcher stamps from your ration book. People don’t think buying black market meat is a bad thing to do. It was the same during Prohibition, people drank illegal alcohol because it wasn’t the business of the government if they drank or not.”
    Jurgen said, “What happens if you get caught selling meat on the black?”
    He saw Walter look at his rearview mirror.
    â€œThe government penalizes you, makes you stop doing business for a time, thirty days, sixty days. If they want, they can put you out of business until the war is over.”
    Walter spoke to Otto in German, to Jurgen in English.
    He brought them all the way on Grand River Avenue, stopped for the light at Woodward where downtown was waiting for them: crowds crossing both ways in front of the car, people waiting at the curb for buses, in safety zones in the middle of Woodward for streetcars, and Walter said in English, “There is the J.L. Hudson Company over there, I believe the world’s second-largest department store. Notice it takes up the entire block. When the light changes I’m going to drop you off over there on the corner, where you see the clock above the entrance to Kerns, another department store, though it doesn’t compare to Hudson’s. Exactly two hoursfrom now I’ll come by. Please let me find you waiting there, if you will. Under the clock.” He said to Jurgen, “Go in Hudson’s and ask where is the war exhibit show. You ask, please, not Otto. All right?”
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    They strolled among cosmetic and perfume counters, hosiery, costume jewelry, women’s gloves and belts, coming to umbrellas now, across the aisle from men’s neckwear and suspenders, and Jurgen stopped. He said, “There,” looking up at the poster on the square white column that rose above the counter where neckties were displayed. Now Otto was looking.
    BE SURE TO SEE THE
DETROIT NEWS & J.L. HUDSON’S
WAR SOUVENIR SHOW
    In the Auditorium on the 12th floor!
    â€œAren’t they proud of themselves,” Otto said in German, “showing what they took from our comrades lying dead.”
    Jurgen turned his head to see a salesgirl in Gloves and Belts watching them. She couldn’t have heard Otto, but someone would if he kept ranting in German.
    â€œYou know how to say pain in the ass?” Jurgen said. “It’s how you’re still acting. If you don’t want to look at war souvenirs, tell me in English. I don’t care if I see them or not.”
    â€œI would like a whiskey, a big one,” Otto said, “and to dine in a good restaurant. My needs are simple.”
    Jurgen said, “Don’t move,” and walked over to the counter where the girl sold gloves and belts.
    Otto watched him talking to her, the girl wide-eyed to show she was listening and would answer his question, Otto thinking he could use a girl like that to give him a bit of comfort, smile and touch his face with her hand, tell him she would do anything for him, anything at all. He had not been with a girl in more than two years, since the Italian girl in Benghazi.
    Jurgen was coming back. Otto waited. Jurgen said, “The dining rooms are on the