money.
“I have no plans,” said Walter James. “You know my business for the next week or so. After that I don’t know.”
“The next week or so?” She laughed. “Will it all be over so soon? What if nothing more happens? What if it’s all over now and you have nothing to go on?”
“Miss Gilbert,” he answered all four questions: “The beauty of this racket is that if nothing happens, you go out and make it happen. What did you say this drink was?”
“Tequila stinger. I’m saving you money — you don’t need many of these.”
He sipped at it, let it bite his tongue. “There’s always somebody’s hand to force.”
“You won’t call me Miss Gilbert so primly after a couple of these.” She wrinkled her nose at him. “There. That’s forcing
your
hand.”
“Laura?”
“That’s not the best. I like my middle name best, though nobody else does. Kevin.”
“Kevin,” he said over his glass. “To Kevin — and heaven. May they always rhyme.”
Her smile held a touch of bitterness. “I’ll drink to that.” They each took a long sip. “You shouldn’t have fed me so much tonight, Walter. I told you I was a fiend for roast duck. Does it show?”
He looked sideways at her slim upright body, covered softly with plain green wool. “No, ma’am.”
“Good,” Kevin said relieved, and pressed down her dress. “I worry about my tummy like I do my ears. I’m always afraid something is sticking out.”
“Anything I can think of to say right now would only get me in trouble,” said Walter James lightly. “Incidentally, how’s our ear?”
“It’s a little soon after dinner to discuss it, but our ear is beginning to scab over nicely. I took the bandage off just before you picked me up tonight. Of course, I’ll have to wear my hair this way for a while.”
“I won’t mind — believe me.”
“I believe you.” She finished her drink. “You won’t be around long enough to get tired of it.”
Walter James signaled the waiter with an empty glass. “You never can tell.” Kevin looked up quickly, her eyes glinting. They sat silently in the soft swirl of other couples’ conversation until the waiter needlessly wiped off the table and deposited two more stingers.
“I have no plans,” said Walter James. “But that won’t automatically exclude me from San Diego, will it? You have no plans yourself.”
She smiled. “You can’t tell about us women.”
He widened his pale blue eyes. “At three o’clock this morning you were an adolescent. By your own admission.”
“Well, sir,” she said, sticking out her lower lip, “I’ve had a hard day.”
“Was it?” Walter James asked soberly. “Was there much reaction?”
“Not too much.” She crinkled her brow. “This morning I was tired, naturally, and I guess I was a little sick. But it wasn’t too bad.”
“I’m glad,” he said. She glanced to see if he meant it. “I’ve seen tougher women go under at the sight of a body. No one ever gets completely hardened to dead bodies, though lots of professional people pretend to.”
Her glance held a touch of shyness. “There’s one thought I can’t get rid of. What about his funeral? People like that Filipino can’t have much money. If he has relatives, it’ll take so much to have him buried.” She stroked the stem of her glass and pondered the thought. “Oh, I guess there must be some place they put dead people that have no money.”
Walter James pursed his lips. “There’s a lot I don’t suppose you know about the mortuary racket. No good funeral parlor ever refuses a family a casket and a decent funeral for a man — even if there’s no money in it at all. For one thing, they can’t afford to — word would get around that they’re mercenary and a few rumors like that will put a mortician out of business. Their business is founded on sentiment and no breath must touch it. A cheap funeral costs around a hundred and twenty-five dollars; but if the relatives have
“I have no plans,” said Walter James. “You know my business for the next week or so. After that I don’t know.”
“The next week or so?” She laughed. “Will it all be over so soon? What if nothing more happens? What if it’s all over now and you have nothing to go on?”
“Miss Gilbert,” he answered all four questions: “The beauty of this racket is that if nothing happens, you go out and make it happen. What did you say this drink was?”
“Tequila stinger. I’m saving you money — you don’t need many of these.”
He sipped at it, let it bite his tongue. “There’s always somebody’s hand to force.”
“You won’t call me Miss Gilbert so primly after a couple of these.” She wrinkled her nose at him. “There. That’s forcing
your
hand.”
“Laura?”
“That’s not the best. I like my middle name best, though nobody else does. Kevin.”
“Kevin,” he said over his glass. “To Kevin — and heaven. May they always rhyme.”
Her smile held a touch of bitterness. “I’ll drink to that.” They each took a long sip. “You shouldn’t have fed me so much tonight, Walter. I told you I was a fiend for roast duck. Does it show?”
He looked sideways at her slim upright body, covered softly with plain green wool. “No, ma’am.”
“Good,” Kevin said relieved, and pressed down her dress. “I worry about my tummy like I do my ears. I’m always afraid something is sticking out.”
“Anything I can think of to say right now would only get me in trouble,” said Walter James lightly. “Incidentally, how’s our ear?”
“It’s a little soon after dinner to discuss it, but our ear is beginning to scab over nicely. I took the bandage off just before you picked me up tonight. Of course, I’ll have to wear my hair this way for a while.”
“I won’t mind — believe me.”
“I believe you.” She finished her drink. “You won’t be around long enough to get tired of it.”
Walter James signaled the waiter with an empty glass. “You never can tell.” Kevin looked up quickly, her eyes glinting. They sat silently in the soft swirl of other couples’ conversation until the waiter needlessly wiped off the table and deposited two more stingers.
“I have no plans,” said Walter James. “But that won’t automatically exclude me from San Diego, will it? You have no plans yourself.”
She smiled. “You can’t tell about us women.”
He widened his pale blue eyes. “At three o’clock this morning you were an adolescent. By your own admission.”
“Well, sir,” she said, sticking out her lower lip, “I’ve had a hard day.”
“Was it?” Walter James asked soberly. “Was there much reaction?”
“Not too much.” She crinkled her brow. “This morning I was tired, naturally, and I guess I was a little sick. But it wasn’t too bad.”
“I’m glad,” he said. She glanced to see if he meant it. “I’ve seen tougher women go under at the sight of a body. No one ever gets completely hardened to dead bodies, though lots of professional people pretend to.”
Her glance held a touch of shyness. “There’s one thought I can’t get rid of. What about his funeral? People like that Filipino can’t have much money. If he has relatives, it’ll take so much to have him buried.” She stroked the stem of her glass and pondered the thought. “Oh, I guess there must be some place they put dead people that have no money.”
Walter James pursed his lips. “There’s a lot I don’t suppose you know about the mortuary racket. No good funeral parlor ever refuses a family a casket and a decent funeral for a man — even if there’s no money in it at all. For one thing, they can’t afford to — word would get around that they’re mercenary and a few rumors like that will put a mortician out of business. Their business is founded on sentiment and no breath must touch it. A cheap funeral costs around a hundred and twenty-five dollars; but if the relatives have
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