Part 12 (1/2)
David Fenner lounged in the desk chair, his feet on the desk. He was staring blankly up at the ceiling. He had the air of a man with nothing to do and all the time in the world to do it in.
Fenner was a ma.s.sively built man of thirty-three. He was dark, with an attractively ugly face and a pugnacious jaw of a man who likes to get his own way and generally does.
A door to the left of the desk led into the outer office. A wooden barrier divided this room. One side was reserved for waiting clients; the other side was the general office presided over by, Paula Dolan, an attractive girl with raven black wavy hair, large suggestive blue eyes and a figure that Fenner declared was the only a.s.set of value in the newly established business.
Paula sat before an idle typewriter, thumbing through the pages of a lurid magazine called Love. From time to time, she yawned and her eyes continually strayed to the wall clock. The time was twenty minutes after three.
The buzzer sounded on her desk, making her start. She put down the magazine and walked into the inner office.
”Got any cigarettes, honey?” Fenner asked, hunching his muscles so the chair creaked. ”I'm all out.”
”I've got three left,” Paula said. ”You can have two of them.” She went into her office and returned with two cigarettes which she laid on the table.
”That's pretty generous of you,” Fenner said, lighting up. ”Thanks.” He inhaled deeply while he looked Paula over. ”That's a nice shape you've got on your bones this afternoon.”
”Yes, isn't it?” Paula said bitterly. ”It doesn't seem to get me anywhere.”
”How are you making out?” Fenner said, quick to change the subject. ”Got anything to do?”
”As much as you have,” Paula said, hoisting herself up on the desk.
”Then you sure must be working yourself to death,” Fenner said, grinning. ”Never mind: something'll turn up.”
”You've been saying just that for the past month,” Paula said. She looked worried. ”We can't go on much longer like this, Dave. The Office Equipment people telephoned. Unless you pay the third installment on the furniture by tomorrow, they want it all back.”
Fenner surveyed the room.
”You don't say! You wouldn't think anyone in their right minds would want this junk back, would you?”
”Perhaps you didn't hear what I said,” Paula said ominously. ”They'll take all the furniture away tomorrow unless you pay the third installment. So what shall I have to sit on?”
Fenner looked startled.
”They're not taking that away as well, are they?”
”Dave Fenner, will you never be serious for half a minute? If we don't find two hundred dollars by tomorrow morning, we will have to shut down.”
Fenner sighed.
”Money! How much have we got?”
”Ten dollars and fifteen cents.”
”As much as that?” he waved his hand airily. ”Why, we're rich! There's a guy across the way who's got nothing but an overdraft.”
”How does that make us rich?” Paula demanded.
”Well, we don't owe the bank money.”
”That's not your fault. You've tried hard enough to owe them money, haven't you?”
”I guess that's right.” Fenner shook his head mournfully. ”I don't think those birds trust me.”
”Oh, no,” Paula said sarcastically. ”They just don't want to embarra.s.s you.” She patted a stray curl into place. ”I'm beginning to think you made a mistake opening this office. You were making good money on the Tribune. I never did think this agency idea of yours would work out.” Fenner looked indignant.
”Well, that's a fine thing to say. Then why did you quit your job and come to work for me? I warned you it could be tough at the start, but nothing short of a machine gun would stop you joining me.” Paula smiled at him.
”Maybe it was because I love you,” she said softly Fenner groaned.
”For the love of Mike, don't start that all over again. I've enough worries without you adding to them. Why don't you get smart, honey? A girl with your looks and your shape could hook a millionaire. Why waste your time and talents on a loser like me? I'll tell you something: I'll always be broke. It's a tradition in the family. My grandfather was a bankrupt. My father was a pauper. My uncle was a miser: he went crazy because he couldn't find any money to mise over.”
”When are we going to get married, Dave?”
”Remind me to consult my ouija board sometime,” Fenner said hurriedly. ”Why don't you go home? You're getting unhealthy ideas sticking around here with nothing to do. Take the afternoon off. Go shampoo your hair or something.”
Paula lifted her shoulders in resigned helplessness. ”Why don't you talk to Ryskind? He might give you your job back if you asked him nicely. You were the best crime reporter in the game, Dave. He must miss you. Why don't you talk to him?” Fenner shook his head.
”The trouble there is he wouldn't talk to me. I called him a double-crossing, stony-hearted, brainless moron just before I quit. I also seem to remember I told him if ever he invited me to his parents' wedding. I wouldn't go. Somehow, I don't think he likes me any more.”
A buzzer sounded in the outer office announcing a visitor. ”Who do you imagine that could be?” Fenner asked, frowning.
”Probably the man to disconnect the telephone,” Paula said. ”We haven't paid the bill--remember?”
”What do we want a telephone for?” Fenner asked. ”We're not on speaking terms with anyone in town, are we?”
Paula went into the outer office, closing the door after her. In a couple of minutes, she was back, her face alight with excitement.
”Look who's here!” she said and laid a card on his blotter.
Fenner read the card, then he sat back, gaping at Paula.
”John Blandis.h.!.+ In person?”
”He wants to see you.”
”You're sure it's him, not someone impersonating him?”
”I'm sure.”
”Well, what are you waiting for? Shoo him in, baby; shoo him in!”
Paula went to the door and opened it.
”Mr. Fenner is free now, Mr. Blandish. Would you come in?”
She stood aside as John Blandish entered the room, then she went out, leaving the two men together.