WHEN I shaved the next morning I had lots of no fun. My lower lip was cut inside and puffed outside. There was a bruise on my jaw. I had a bit of a mouse under my left eye, but that didn’t interfere with the shaving.
The somewhat ancient and bowlegged doorman took one look at me and grinned. Two girls in the crosstown bus stared and giggled. I hunched my shoulders so they’d look square and stuck my chest out. Maybe they’d think I had fought the main bout in the Garden the previous night.
At the office, the lads in the drafting room gave me a double take. One of them said, “You shouldn’t run into doors, Kirk.”
I said, “I didn’t run into a door. I had a fight, and I didn’t do very well.”
That puzzled them. If I’d said I had run into a door, they’d think I’d been in a fight. Now that I said I’d been in a fight, the door theory was something for them to chew on. I took . off my coat, put on an eyeshade, arranged things on my drawing board and started to work.
Friday and Saturday I stayed away from the Caliente. I saw Dana once and talked to her on the phone several times. I suggested that inasmuch as I looked battered and Ricardo wasn’t entirely without scars, it would be better for people not to see us together. I wasn’t keen about advertising the fact that Ricardo and I had tangled.
Sunday morning I looked myself over. My appearance was practically normal. I decided to go to the club and have dinner there with Dana. Staying away too long wasn’t good, either. I was curious to see Ricardo, also. Not what he looked like, but what his attitude would be.
I waited until early afternoon and telephoned Arthur Maybank at the hospital. His voice sounded sleepy. I invited him to have dinner with me at the Caliente. He said he’d love to, but couldn’t. He said he had a date with Agnes Sheridan.
“So bring her with you. We’ll watch the show and then Dana will eat dinner with us.”
He said, “That sounds fine, but . . . well, let’s be honest. I can’t afford places like that.”
“Be yourself, Arthur. I’m inviting you and Agnes to be my guests. You and she can check out after dinner if you decide you want to be alone.”
His voice brightened. He said he’d be at the club with Agnes between 7:15 and 7:30. “It’ll be fun,” he said. “I’m off duty tonight, with nothing to worry about.”
I left home early. The temperature had dropped again. It was about eighteen. I had time to kill so I dropped into a newsreel theater. I did more thinking than watching.
I had used the last three nights to catch up on lost sleep. I was glad to fall into the groove again at the Caliente. In one way I didn’t like the place because every time I saw Dana on the floor it made me feel like excess baggage. But in another way it had become a habit, and habits are hard to break. I hoped Candy wouldn’t be there.
I was having a Martini at the bar when Arthur walked in with Agnes. They joined me in a drink, and we were spearing olives when Dana arrived. We went back to my pet table and made ourselves comfortable.
Arthur was cold. He complained that Agnes had walked him through Central Park and that she had made him stand on the shore of the lake and watch people skate.
Dana looked up with interest. “Do you skate, Agnes?”
The dark head nodded. “I love it. But I don’t get much chance.”
“Where do you go? The park?”
“No. I prefer rinks. I’m not too good at it . . .” The way she said it, I could tell that she was a wow. No Sonja Henie, maybe, but no dub, either.
Agnes said, “I haven’t skated once this year.”
“You did an awful lot of watching this afternoon,” grumbled Arthur.
“That made me hungry for it.” She beamed across at Dana. “Why don’t we go skating some night?”
“All right, you tell me. Why don’t we?”
I had never seen Agnes so eager. She said, “We could slip out right after the dinner show and go to the rink. We’d get a full hour and a half and be back in time for you to dress again.”
Dana said, “I’d like that.”
“Tomorrow night?”
“Monday . . . ?” Dana nodded. “Perfect! I’ll bet you’re one of those experts who owns his own skates.”
“Yes. That is, I’m not an expert, but I prefer my own skates.”
“Bring them with you when you come to dinner. We’ll put them in my dressing room. After the dinner show we’ll go back there while I change, and then we’ll slip out through the other exit.”
Agnes turned to Arthur. “How about joining us?”
Arthur’s expression was ludicrous. “Me skate? Lady, you don’t know whereof you speak. I got on ice skates once in my life. I stayed on them for approximately two seconds. Then I swapped ends. I swore off for life.”
She said, “I’ll teach you.”
“You can teach me a lot of things, Agnes . . . but skating isn’t one of them. And it’s out on another count. I’m on duty tomorrow night.”
“Couldn’t you arrange . . . ?”
“Not a chance, even if I wanted to. And I don’t.”
Agnes invited me. I grinned and said Yes. “I’ll spend half the time on my ear,” I said, “but I’ve got the soul of a clown.”
“We won’t eat anything here,” said Agnes. “There’s a nice lunch counter at the rink where we can get sandwiches and coffee and pie.”
Dana looked at her watch, said, “Oh dear!” and was off like a shot. I didn’t see her again until she and Ricardo swept onto the dance floor.
I took a good look at Ricardo. Even allowing for the camouflage which make-up could provide, he didn’t show a bruise. I was a little disappointed. I had hit him plenty, and I preferred to believe that when I hit ’em, they stayed hit.
Dana rejoined us after the show. As soon as we finished, I shooed Arthur and Agnes out. I knew that was what they both wanted. Dana watched them until they reached the checkroom. She said, “They’ve got it bad, haven’t they?”
There was the usual buzz of dinner checks being paid before the 10:30 cover charge went on. During all of it, Dana sat quietly. I knew she had something on her mind, and that she’d tell it when she got ready. I didn’t have long to wait.
She leaned across the table and touched my hand. Just a touch. She said, “I’ve got news for you, Kirk.”
“Good news?”
“I hope you think so.” She reached for one of my cigarettes and I held the match for her. She said, “I’m quitting the act.”
It didn’t register right away. Then I frowned. “You’re what?”
“I’m quitting. I told Ricardo yesterday that I’d give him a reasonable time, but no more, to find himself another partner.”
“Divorce?” I asked eagerly.
“No. As a matter of fact, Ricardo says if I throw him down like this, he’ll never give me one.”
“Then why . . . ?”
“I’ve been spineless, Kirk. I’ve been reaching for the thing I wanted most without being willing to let go of the thing I had. Ricardo has been stalling. I don’t mean anything to him as a woman, but I’m egoist enough to believe that I rate pretty high as a dance partner. He wasn’t even looking for anybody else. He thought I’d let things rock along.”
I said, “There are two sides to that Dana. Dancing means a lot to you. Being half of one of the world’s best dance teams is important.”
“There’s something else that means more.”
“I wish we were alone,” I said. “I’d like to kiss you.”
She smiled. “I know Ricardo. He’s hopping mad. He thinks I’m an ingrate and a fool. Even yet he doesn’t quite believe me. He won’t believe me until I actually leave. Then he’ll lose interest in me. He’ll find another partner. And he’d have no reason then for not giving me a divorce.”
I said, “Has it ever occurred to you, sweetheart—that he may have another reason?”
“What sort of reason?”
“He could be in love with you.”
“You suggested that once before. But he isn’t. He’s in love with himself and with his profession.”
“That isn’t the way he’s acted. He’s impressionable. Yet as far as we know, there’s been no other woman in his life.”
“How about Candy Livingston?”
“Twenty million dollars,” I said. “There’s your answer,” I traced a pattern on the tablecloth with my fingernail. I said, “I’m not sure you’ve done the right thing.”
“That’s why I didn’t discuss it with you in advance, Kirk. The way things were, I couldn’t see anything but a future that offered nothing. This way, there is at least a chance.”
“What will you do?”
“I’ll get another partner, too. That won’t be difficult. He won’t be as good as Ricardo. But I’ll find one.”
I looked at her steadily. “Does Ricardo associate your decision with our battle royal the other afternoon?”
“Probably.”
“Has he made any further mention of his lost luck piece?”
She frowned. “Yes. He’s superstitious enough to believe that it ties in with my decision to quit.”
“Does he know why you were looking for it?”
“No. He asked, of course. I merely told him that I saw the box on his make-up table and opened it. He doesn’t believe me, but he can’t prove different, either.”
I said, “He has lost his luck piece and his dance partner. I wouldn’t blame him for being upset.”
Dana said, “You haven’t told me that you’re glad.”
“I don’t know what to tell you, darling. I’m glad and I’m worried. I’m glad because I agree with you that so long as you stayed with Ricardo our problem wouldn’t ever be solved. I’m worried . . .”
“You’re worried about what?”
I didn’t dare to tell her what I was worried about. What good would it do for her to know that Arthur believed that Ricardo had killed Ethel Brower in the dark believing her to be Dana. Arthur might be wrong.
“Skip it,” I said. “The important point is that I feel closer to you already. And I love you more than ever.”
She reached for my hand. Her eyes were soft and lovely.
“That,” she said, “is what I’ve been waiting to hear.”