The Screaming Mimi by Fredric Brown

Author:Fredric Brown [Brown, Fredric]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: General Interest
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 11

DOC Greene was coming toward them, worming his way through the people who were leaving after the first floor show, a wide, satisfied grin on the bland, round face that Sweeney would have loved to slug.

Bline looked to see who was coming and then looked at Sweeney disgustedly. He said, “You and that damn hunch.”

Maybe you feel disgusted with him too, and if so I hold no brief for him. It was just a hunch, and you know what a stubborn fool an Irishman with a hunch can be; if you didn't know when you started reading, you should know by now. Once a hunch gets into him, you almost have to blast to get it out; there wasn't much chance of blasting happening in the case of Sweeney. There was, of course, a much better chance, an excellent chance, of his finding out whether his hunch could leak out-along with other things-through the slit a knife or a razor could make across his abdomen. Yes, there was an excellent chance of that happening, and it almost did happen; but not just then. Doc Greene was carrying a foul, fat cigar, but no knife.

Nick stood up and said, “Hi, Doc. Well, I got to go. So long.”

Doc nodded to him, and asked Bline how he liked the show.

Bline said, “Great. Sit down, Greene.”

Guerney, coming back, hesitated as he saw his chair being taken. Bline motioned to him and then told him to take a break and get some fresh air outside. Guerney left.

Doc Greene grinned at Sweeney. Not a nice grin. He said, “Do I have to ask how you liked it?”

“No,” Sweeney told him. “I hear you held Nick-or rather, Harry Yahn-up. For a thousand bucks.”

“I wouldn't call it a holdup. Yolanda shouldn't be dancing so soon after what happened. It's taking a chance with her health. Naturally, she deserves something extra for that, if she does.”

“Does she get it?”

“Naturally. Of course, as her manager, I get my cut.”

“What per cent is that?”

“That's my business.”

“And business is good,” Sweeney said. “You know, Doc, there's something I'd like to ask you.”

“I might even answer it.”

“How come Yolanda is playing a place like this? It's peanuts to the bookings you could get her.”

“You're telling me. But we're under contract here; I told you that. Yahn won't let us break the contract. Know what we're getting here? A lousy two hundred a week. I could get her a thousand a week damn easy, and we have to be tied down here for another month. And by that time-”

“You don't get me,” Sweeney said. “What I mean is why was she working for a lousy two hundred a week? Even without the publicity, she ought to have been nearer to the big time than Clark Street.”

Greene spread his hands. “Maybe you could do better for her. It's easy to say, Sweeney. Only you won't get a chance to try; I got her signed up under contract.”

“For how long?”

“Again, my business.”

Sweeney said, “I suggest you haven't wanted to get her better bookings, for reasons of your own.

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