Chapter 11
Red drew himself a beer and drank it quickly.
He stood still a moment, considering the glass in his hand. Then, the bubble of gas he had been expecting rose from his stomach and gurgled into his throat.
He smacked his lips and drew another glass. Red cast his glance around the bar in one professional sweep. He noticed that several customers were due for a refill, but decided to let them wait for a few minutes, Usually, when Elsie wasn't around, Red would wait on the tables himself, but he was sure she would shortly. Besides, he simply didn't feel like stirring himself. He eased back onto the stool behind the bar, and sipped his second beer.
She was taking quite a while to deliver that bottle, he thought. He glanced at the clock. It was one of those rotating devices with a clock-face on one side and an illuminated advertisement for beer on the other. Naturally, the wrong side was facing him. Red couldn't remember ever glancing at the thing and seeing the clock.
He waited patiently until the device completed its slow orbit and showed him the time.
Twenty minutes. That was strange. He hadn't been aware that so much time had passed. What the heck could be keeping her so long.
He thought of Mrs. Bains, and smiled. Silly woman. What difference did it make to her what these people were doing, as long as they didn't make any trouble? He couldn't understand her fascination with other people's business. As far as he was concerned, people could do anything they damn well pleased, as long as they didn't do it to him.
Yes, he thought, that trait of hers is going to get her in trouble one of these days. She's going to go peeking into the wrong person's business and get her head chopped off. She'd better have me around to keep an eye out for her, or she's going to step into something she can't step out of.
He thought again of the feeling of her waist against his arm.
It was funny that it had never occurred to him in all these years what an attractive woman Elsie was. Of course, she was no chicken, but neither was he. God knows they both had used up more days than they had left.
But she was still good-looking, in a comfortable, cushiony way. He had known this in the back of his head for quite some time, but it had taken that brief contract to bring it out.
He realized that he had been thinking of her all along as a married woman. She and Norman had been such good friends of his for so many years that he bad tended to think of them as a team long after old Norman's death.
My God, he thought, that was more than ten years ago.
He cast his mind back to the days when he and Norman had been young men, and the first time he had met Elsie. He remembered thinking then that she was an attractive young lady, and he recalled the jockeying for position that had gone on between him and Norman. He had almost forgotten about that, but now he could remember quite clearly that he had been drawn to the girl almost as much as Norman.
But, as fate would have it, at the last moment he had run up against another girl friend of his, and she had leeched onto his arm for the evening. And that had killed it. He couldn't even remember that girl's name any more, and he had no idea what had happened to her, but that one chance meeting had killed his chances with Elsie, and had changed the lives of everybody involved.
He chuckled to himself and sipped his beer. Well, Norman won fair and square, and they had been good enough friends to respect each other's victories, so Red kept his distance from then on and never tried at Elsie again.
Eventually, Elsie and Norman had married, and that had ended it for good.
But Norman has been dead a long time, he thought. And then he thought; I wonder if he'd mind?
A voice said something, and Red snapped out of his reverie. There was a new customer at the bar. Red swore at himself for not noticing him.
"Excuse me, mister," he said, climbed off the stool. "I guess I was dreaming." He went over toward the man. As he approached, he realized that he had seen and noticed this man that afternoon, but he could not recall in what connection. The fellow had come into the bar briefly for some reason and had drawn Red's attention. And Elsie's too, now that he thought of it. He simply couldn't remember why.
The man was smiling, but only with his mouth. His face seemed preoccupied, and he seemed to resent the necessity of devoting even a part of his attention to a bartender.
"I'd like a beer," he said.
"Yes, sir," Red replied. He went back to the taps, picking up a glass on the way. As the beer foamed into the glass, he searched his mind, trying to remember who this guy was. But it just wouldn't come.
He took the beer back down the bar and set it in front of the man. The fellow's eyes were cast downward; he didn't seem to notice Red's arrival at all. Red took the opportunity to study his face.
He came in here this afternoon, Red thought, and I noticed him. There must have been some reason for that. He tried to recollect the incident.
Let's see-did he come in alone? No-no, ke had been with somebody. Was it a woman? That seemed likely, but Red couldn't picture her. II not a woman, than what? A girl? Yes, that was it. A girl. The girl.
He looked closely at the man's face. Yes, this was the guy who had come in with the young girl, the one who couldn't have been more than eighteen. Being a bartender, Red was an expert at judging the age of an individual, and he was certain that the girl was no older than eighteen. In fact, he had made up his mind not to serve her unless she could produce some proof of her age.
But the guy had not tried to buy anything to drink. He had merely gone up to Elsie and asked for a room. And she had led them through the connecting door to the office.
So now he was back at the bar. Red wondered what had happened to the girl. Was he through with her already? Had he taken her and sent her packing?
Looking at the man's face, this didn't seem likely. He didn't seem happy enough to have done that. Maybe the girl wouldn't go for him when the chips were down. Probably served him right.
Funny, though; the guy didn't look like the kind who took young kids to motels. His face had too much in it. Red had seen many men who liked to take innocent young girls, and their faces were always dead giveaways. Especially around the eyes. Guys like that were an open book to an old hand like Red. and the book had only one four-letter word in it.
This guy was not a member of that group. Red was certain of it. In fact, the longer Red examined his face, the more positive he became that he would like the guy if he ever got to know him.
"Mister?" he said, clearing his throat.
"Hmm?" The man glanced up.
"That'll be fifteen cents." Red gestured at the beer.
The man shook his head quickly. "Oh," he said. "Sorry. I was thinking about something else." He fished into his pocket and scattered some change on the bar.
He looked up into Red's face then, and all at once Red knew what was coming. A bartender gets to recognize that expression after a while, since it is the one he sees most often. The guy was wearing the face that preceeds the long, sad story.
Oh, well, Red thought. I wondered what was going on, didn't I? So now I'm going to find out.
He glanced once more at the clock, which was, as usual, not facing him. Where the hell is Elsie? he wondered.
The man was opening his mouth, but Red cut him off. "Just a second, pal," he said. He walked down the length of the bar and around in back of the slowly rotating clock.
A half-hour had passed since Elsie had left the bar. That was too long.
He went back to his customer, slowly stroking one thumb across his chin. The man was watching him curiously.
"Listen," Red said, leaning over the bar, "when you came in here, did you see the lady who signed you in around anywhere?"
The man looked baffled. "Lady?" he repeated.
"Yes. You know, the one who took you into the office." Red deliberately avoided any mention of the girl.
"Oh," the man said, "you mean that little plump one?"
"Yeah," Red said. "That one."
"Why-why, no." His brow furrowed as he thought about it. It was clear to Red that this distraction from his own thoughts had taken the guy completely by surprise. He seemed amazed that there could be any problems in the world besides his own. "No, I can't recall seeing her. Of course, I wasn't looking for her either."
Red frowned. There was a small itch of worry growing at the back of his mind. Had that silly woman gotten herself into some kind of dutch?
"Look, pal," he said to the man, "I've got a problem here. I think you better hold your story until later on."
The man smiled "Was it that obvious?"
Red smiled back. Yes, he liked the guy; there was no getting around it. "I don't mind listening-that's part of the business. And if talking about it helps any, well fine. But I got to clear this up first."
"Sounds like a fair exchange," the man said. "I listen to your story, then you listen to mine."
Red laughed. "It's a deal."
"Shoot," the man said, picking up his beer and sipping it. His eyes watched Red over the rim of the glass.