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said。 Then she tittered。 〃Mike ain't done nothing new； has he？ I don't get cops calling on me much。〃
Her titter contained a loose alcoholic overtone。 I leaned back against something hard； felt for it and brought up an empty quart gin bottle。 The woman tittered again。
〃A joke that was；〃 she said。 〃But I hope to Christ they's enough cheap blondes where he is。 He never got enough of them here。〃
〃I was thinking more about a redhead；〃 I said。
〃I guess he could use a few of them too。〃 Her eyes； it seemed to me； were not so vague now。 〃I don't call to mind。 Any special redhead？〃
〃Yes。 A girl named Velma。 I don't know what last name she used except that it wouldn't be her real one。 I'm trying to trace her for her folks。 Your place on Central is a colored place now； although they haven't changed the name； and of course the people there never heard of her。 So I thought of you。〃
〃Her folks taken their time getting around to it…looking for her；〃 the woman said thoughtfully。
〃There's a little money involved。 Not much。 I guess they have to get her in order to touch it。 Money sharpens the memory。〃
〃So does liquor；〃 the woman said。 〃Kind of hot today； ain't it？ You said you was a copper though。〃 Cunning eyes； steady attentive face。 The feet in the man's slippers didn't move。
I held up the dead soldier and shook it。 Then I threw it to one side and reached back on my hip for the pint of bond bourbon the Negro hotel clerk and I had barely tapped。 I held it out on my knee。 The woman's eyes became fixed in an incredulous stare。 Then suspicion climbed all over her face； like a kitten； but not so playfully。
〃You ain't no copper；〃 she said softly。 〃No copper ever bought a drink of that stuff。 What's the gag； mister？〃
She blew her nose again； on one of the dirtiest handkerchiefs I ever saw。 Her eyes stayed on the bottle。 Suspicion fought with thirst； and thirst was winning。 It always does。
〃This Velma was an entertainer； a singer。 You wouldn't know her？ I don't suppose you went there much。〃
Seaweed colored eyes stayed on the bottle。 A coated tongue coiled on her lips。
〃Man； that's liquor；〃 she sighed。 〃I don't give a damn who you are。 Just hold it careful； mister。 This ain't no time to drop anything。〃
She got up and waddled out of the room and e back with two thick smeared glasses。
〃No fixin's。 Just what you brought is all；〃 she said。
I poured her a slug that would have made me float over a wall。 She reached for it hungrily and put it down her throat like an aspirin tablet and looked at the bottle。 I poured her another and a smaller one for me。 She took it over to her rocker。 Her eyes had turned two shades browner already。
〃Man； this stuff dies painless with me；〃 she said and sat down。 〃It never knows what hit it。 What was we talkin' about？〃
〃A redhaired girl named Velma who used to work in your place on Central Avenue。〃
〃Yeah。〃 She used her second drink。 I went over and stood the bottle on an end beside her。 She reached for it。 〃Yeah。 Who you say you was？〃
I took out a card and gave it to her。 She read it with her tongue and lips； dropped it on a table beside her and set her empty glass on it。
〃Oh； a private guy。 You ain't said that； mister。〃 She waggled a finger at me with gay reproach。 〃But your liquor says you're an all right guy at that。 Here's to crime。〃 She poured a third drink for herself and drank it down。
I sat down and rolled a cigarette around in my fingers and waited。 She either knew something or she didn't。 If the knew something； she either would tell me or she wouldn't。 It was that simple。
〃Cute little redhead；〃 she said slowly and thickly。 〃Yeah； I remember her。 Song and dance。 Nice legs and generous with 'em。 She went off somewheres。 How would I know what them tramps do？〃
〃Well； I didn't really think you would know；〃 I said。 〃But it was natural to e and ask you； Mrs。 Florian。 Help rourseif to the whiskey…I could run out for more when we need it。〃
〃You ain't drinkin'；〃 she said suddenly。
I put my hand around my glass and swallowed what was in it slowly enough to make it seem more than it was。
〃Where's her folks at？〃 she asked suddenly。
〃What does that matter？〃
〃Okey；〃 she sneered。 〃All cops is the same。 Okey； handsome。 A guy that buys me a drink is a pal。〃 She reached for the bottle and set up Number 4。 〃I shouldn't ought to barber with you。 But when I like a guy； the ceiling's the limit。〃 She simpered。 She was as cute as a washtub。 〃Hold onto your hair and don't step on no snakes；〃 she said。 〃I got me an idea。〃
She got up out of the rocker； sneezed； almost lost the bathrobe； slapped it back against her stomach and stared at me coldly。
〃No peekin'；〃 she said； and went out of the room again； hitting the door frame with her shoulder。
I heard her fumbling steps going into the back part of the house。
The poinsettia shoots tap…tapped dully against the front wall。 The clothes line creaked vaguely at the side of the house。 The ice cream peddler went by ringing his bell。 The big new handsome radio in the corner whispered of dancing and love with a deep soft throbbing note like the catch in a torch singer's voice。
Then from the back of the house there were various types of crashing sounds。 A chair seemed to fall over backwards； a bureau drawer was pulled out too far and crashed to the floor； there was fumbling and thudding and muttered thick language。 Then the slow click of a lock and the squeak of a trunk top going up。 More fumbling and banging。 A tray landed on the floor。 I got up from the davenport and sneaked into the dining room and from that into a short hail。 I looked around the edge of an open door。
She was in there swaying in front of the trunk； making grabs at what was in it； and then throwing her hair back over her forehead with anger。 She was drunker than she thought。 She leaned down and steadied herself on the trunk and coughed and sighed。 Then she went down on her thick knees and plunged both hands into the trunk and groped。
They came up holding something unsteadily。 A thick package tied with faded pink tape。 Slowly； clumsily； she undid the tape。 She slipped an envelope out of the package and leaned down again to thrust the envelope out of sight into the right…hand side of the trunk。 She retied the tape with fumbling fingers。
I sneaked back the way I had e and sat down on the davenport。 Breathing stertorous noises； the woman came back into the living room and stood swaying in the doorway with the tape…tied package。
She grinned at me triumphantly； tossed the package and it fell somewhere near my feet。 She waddled back to the rocker and sat down and reached for the whiskey。
I picked the package off the floor and untied the faded pink tape。
〃Look 'em over；〃 the woman grunted。 〃Photos。 Newspaper stills。 Not that them tramps ever got in no newspapers except by way of the police blotter。 People from the joint they are。 They're all the bastard left me…them and his old clothes。〃
I leafed through the bunch of shiny photographs of men and women in professional poses。 The men had sharp foxy faces and racetrack clothes or eccentric clownlike makeup。 Hoofers and ics from the filling station circuit。 Not many of them would ever get