Safer Dead

A big thickset man in an immaculate tuxedo appeared from nowhere and barred my way. His hard, cruel face looked as if it had been carved out of old ivory. His black still eyes had a glitter in them that reminded me of naked knife blades. He looked Spanish, but could have been Mexican or even Cuban. He looked questioningly from me to Suzy.

‘Good evening, Juan,’ Suzy said, obviously suddenly anxious to please. ‘This is Mr. Sladen. I’ve brought him along to see the club. He’s from New York.’

‘Will you please sign the book, Mr. Sladen?’ he said in a voice you could scour rusty iron on. There was no welcoming smile. He seemed sorry he had to admit me.

He led me across the hall to a reception desk where a girl in a tight black silk dress offered me a quill pen and a cool, appraising smile.

I signed my name, using my initial and not my full name just in case this dago was a reader of Crime Facts.

‘Ten dollars please,’ the girl said while Juan stood close, his warm breath fanning the back of my neck.

‘Ten - what?’ I said, staring at her.

‘Ten dollars, Mr. Sladen, for your temporary membership card,’ Juan said curtly.

I remembered in time that I was supposed to be a wealthy businessman from New York and I paid up. I was given a neat card with my name on it and the date. In minute printing the card told me that for ten bucks I could use the amenities of the club for one night only. I hated to think what it would cost me to use the amenities for one month.

A hat check girl relieved me of my hat and Juan relieved me of his presence as he swooped away to prise another ten bucks from a guy who had been unwise enough to bring a guest. Suzy took me into the bar which was the longest and plushiest room I have ever seen. I paid out a small fortune on champagne cocktails and then settled down to make pleasing conversation. I hadn’t got far before a stocky little man came over with a bundle of menu cards and asked if we would care to order dinner.

We ordered dinner, or at least Suzy did. She said she would start with oysters, and I betted myself they would cost a buck piece, then she decided to take the grilled river trout, pheasant and French salade, ice cream and Brie cheese to follow. I said that would do me too. The stocky man scribbled the order down on a pad and went on to the next group.

‘For a girl with your shape you eat pretty well,’ I said. ‘How do you manage it?’

‘Do you think I have a nice shape?’ she asked languidly.

‘Sure, and you have a nice appetite to go with it. Don’t you diet or something?’

‘Sometimes,’ she said. The subject didn’t seem to interest her. ‘Shall we have one more?’ and she lifted her empty glass. This went on for half an hour and I was beginning to wonder if I had brought enough money with me when she finally decided it was time to eat. We went into the restaurant.

Two skimpily dressed girls were doing a song and dance routine on a dais near the band as we took our seats. They were good, and so was the band. It was while we were working through the river trout that a party arrived at a table near ours. I could tell they were important by the way the maître d’hôtel brought them down the aisle. He walked backwards and flourished his arms. If he had had a flag he would have waved it.

There were two girls and two men. The girl who led the way caught my attention. She was around twenty-six: small, compact, with a shape under her flame coloured evening gown that made my eyes pop. She was dark, and her glossy black hair was piled up on her perfectly shaped head. Her face was as lovely as a greek sculpture; cold, perhaps a little hard, and very, very haughty. But there was a flame burning within her that made her more than a beautiful woman: it made her alive, desirable, seductive and feminine as Helen of Troy must have been feminine.

She was magnet to men. There wasn’t a man in the restaurant, including the band and the waiters, who didn’t look as if he wanted to be her escort. You could see the expressions on their faces change when they caught sight of her: they were hungry for her; very, very hungry. I caught myself wondering if I looked like that too. I felt maybe I did.

The other girl with her was nothing to look at; pleasant, a little too plump, wealthy of course, but the dark Helen of Troy need never worry about her as a rival.

The two men were the usual rich, well fed, middle-aged guys you can see any day after ten-thirty a.m. controlling large syndicates, banks or chain stores. You could almost hear their ulcers creak as they moved, and their port wine faces told of their fiery tempers.

‘Don’t you know better than to stare?’ Suzy asked crossly.

‘Am I the only one?’ I said and grinned at her. ‘Who is she? Not the one with the big bosom, but the dark, little one.’

Suzy raised her lip scornfully.

‘I can’t imagine why men go for her. I think she’s nothing but a horrible, oversexed animal.’

‘I like animals,’ I said, ‘I once got a medal for saving a dog from drowning. Who is she?’