The Girl Who Loved Death by Fairman Paul W

Author:Fairman, Paul W. [Fairman, Paul W.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: NewBook, Science Fiction, Short Stories
Publisher: Amazing Stories
Published: 1952-09-10T05:00:00+00:00

IT WAS a typical glitter joint with ankle-deep carpets and lots of gilt paint. On the bandstand a band of cats were combing various expressions of agony out of some finance company’s instruments. I went to the bar and ordered Scotch with plain water— no ice.

I nursed it awhile, the barkeep being busy. Pretty soon he wandered over and I had him pour me another. I asked, “How about you?”

He glanced around. “I’ll pour one under the bar. Drink it later.”

“Okay. Jenny around?”

“Jenny who?” he asked; but not with any belligerence.

“Davis. An old friend of mine. Thought I might say hello to her. Heard she was working here.”

“Can’t place the name. One of the ponies, maybe.”

I let it rest for a minute until he said, “Is it important?”

“Not especially. Just thought I’d ask.”

“If it’s worth a couple of bucks I could find out.” When I didn’t say anything he went on: “The dough’s for the porter. Them bastards wouldn’t slap your back if you was choking, ’less they got paid.”

I pushed a five out of my change pile on the bar. “Whatever you can save is yours.”

He took the bill and went to the end of the bar. Pretty soon a porter came by and they huddled for a minute and then the porter went away.

I waited ten or fifteen minutes. The band didn’t learn anything in that length of time. They kept right on playing badly. People came and went. The bar filled and emptied. A voice behind me asked, “Were you looking for me?”

I turned. She was small, dark, and cute. She wore an orange dress and had some kind of an orange flower in her hair. I noticed she had one blue eye and one green one. That somehow made me think of a cat—a cuddly kitten.

“I thought I might buy you a drink.”

“Should I know who you are?”

“No. My name is Nick Saturday.”

She regarded me solemnly. “That’s an odd name. Saturday.”

“It had a wowski on the end of it once. My dad changed it in honor of payday. How about the drink?”

She smiled. “A short beer. Then I’ve got to dress.”

I was surprised. I usually don’t do very well with women. She climbed on a stool beside me. I got her the beer and she sat looking at it. She said, “You must want something. I doubt if you got my name out of the phone book.”

“Does a girl named Maizie King work here?”

She thought it over, decided it was safe. “Yes. Why?”

“There were two names. Hers and yours. I heard them spoken over a telephone by a blonde in a bath towel at 1125 Weber Place.”

She stiffened. “What is this? A backhanded pass, or were you just born cute?”

“It was a fact, but maybe I should have suppressed it. Sorry.”

“What’s your line, mister?”

I thought for a moment and decided to play it straight because I couldn’t think of any other way. “I’m a private detective. I’ve been given the job of finding a girl you probably never heard of: a girl named Helen Burdette.

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