Sky looks in the cars out front. He concludes the brand-new Nash with Texas tags, whose back tires are weighed down more than the front ones (as if there's something heavy in the trunk) is more than likely to be the gang's buggy. He casually saunters all the way around the building, notes a fire escape and a clothesline from the tenement across the way, then goes in the front door.
The lobby of the Starview Hotel has probably seen better days. Yesterday, for example. The carpet is dust-colored, the wallpaper is more textured than its designer probably intended, and the Edison lamps shine through a yellowish, greasy film.
There's no one up front at the desk. A ripe-smelling bum, barefoot but beardless, snores on a battered armchair in the lobby, clutching a rolled-carpet valise. Sky thinks he looks Italian or Greek, except for the lack of five-o-clock shadow. Spanish maybe.
A door bangs open to the kitchen, where two cooks are working. A Negro waiter in coat and tie comes out, bearing a heavy chrome-domed tray in one hand and a whole milkman's basket of beer bottles in the other. Before the door can creak closed, Sky notices a Negro man in suspenders and cap eating in the kitchen, at a small table set back from the stove. He's solidly built; he could be O.K. Hennesey.
Sky heads up the stairs. There is no elevator. He knocks on room 309's door.
He hears a feminine voice inside, lifting as though asking a question.
Nick Voinovich opens the door. He has long white hair tied behind his head with a black band, like Lord Byron or somebody. He is wearing a striped shirt, black suspenders, brown suit pants and new shoes. He has a tiny Purple Heart medallion on his shirt pocket, where it wouldn't show with his suit coat on. He is hatless.
Voinovich's expression looks just like his mug shot; like someone just interrupted a conversation he was enjoying. Only this time it isn't the Sparta, Tennessee Police Department; it's Sky Masterson, Grimnoir Knight.
Not that Sky has to SAY that's who he is ...
Through the partly open door, Sky sees a blond woman seated on the bed; she could be Christine Tane, or the other one. She's in long skirt, blouse and vest, all different shades of gray, and wears a small pillbox hat.
The connecting door to room 307, on Sky's left, is open. From in there, Sky hears a man's laughter and the clink of glasses. Cigar smoke drifts from the connecting room. Good stogie, too.
Sky tips his hat to the lady. "Miss." Then to the man he says, "Mr. Voinovich, my name is Masterson, from Chicago. You don't know me, but you might just need me.
ReplyDelete"Scarface sends his compliments, and so does Al. I'm lucky I found you, and you're lucky I did. May I come in? I have a proposition for you."
Voinovich squints at Sky; he's not sure he trusts this fast-talking stranger.
ReplyDelete"Well don't leave the man hanging in the hall, Nick," says the woman on the bed, standing up. "Offer him a drink."
"C'mon in," says Voinovich. "Bourbon okay?"
"Ah hope so; it's all we've got!" says the woman boisterously. She's had a few already. "You said something about a proposition, Mr. Masterson?"
Sky saunters in, takes the bourbon, and compliments it. "Think of it as a wager, sir. Here I am, in desperate need of cash, and not in good standing with my boss, who, as you may or may not know, has some influence in this area, and some policemen who also jump when he says 'frog'.
ReplyDelete"It so happens that I owe a man a large debt, but, as a gentleman of the honorifical type, I always make good on my markers. Sky Masterson, they call me, because on account of the sky is the limit with me.
"Now I happen to know, on account of a fortune telling type Active what works for Al, where youse guys was likely to strike it lucky next, and I thought to myself a simple mathematical calcification would have to apply.
"On the one hand, if I was to squeal like a rat to the cops, what good would that do me? The wanted posters on you only have a small amount.
"On the other of my two hands, if I was to make myself serviceable to youse, and youse guys cut me in for a sweet amount of the looting, that is more in keeping with my businessific nature, and it helpifies me. You win, I win, we both win, we shakes hands and I am welch free on my marker.
"And if I say a word in the right ear, the cops look the other way when they looks for youse. Got it?
"I happen myself to be the proud possessor of a very special and rarish talent called Ace. When cops shoot at me, they miss. When I want to break into a place, I find a way in. When I get into a fight or take a shot with a smoke wagon, I am apt to hit and sure to shoot straight.
"I am so lucky that I came here betting you need one more man for this job, and that I am him.
"I am what everyone of the crooked persuasion needs, which is your good luck charm. Forty seven arrests and no convictions. "
Sky gives the lady a particularly dazzling smile, wishing, for once, that he was a mouth.