Crang Mysteries 4-Book Bundle. Jack Batten

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      “You’re right,” I said to Grimaldi. “I invited Ms. Brackley for a drink. We have mutual interests.”

      “I can’t imagine what,” Alice Brackley said. She sounded shocked.

      “Correction,” I said. “It’s Ms. Brackley and my client who have mutual interests.”

      “Who’s your client?” Grimaldi asked. He had a voice without a hint of thug. Must have practised since his days in his dad’s grocery store.

      “Isn’t that funny,” I said. “You’re the second person who’s wondered about that in the past half-hour.”

      “What was the answer the first time?” Grimaldi said.

      Attentive Miriam arrived with two drinks, my martini and the Rob Roy that Alice Brackley didn’t need to order.

      “Somebody’s got to give that girl a large tip,” I said.

      Grimaldi said, “Never mind her, Mr. Crang. Tell me who you’re representing. It’s my company you been hired to nose around in.”

      “You’ve heard of solicitor-client privilege, Chuck,” I said. “I’m invoking it.”

      “Mr. Crang is a very exasperating man,” Alice Brackley said to Grimaldi.

      “Just attentive to the people who pay my bills,” I said.

      “You got an unhealthy attitude, Crang,” Grimaldi said. His voice seemed to have dropped an octave.

      “You know us lawyers, Chuck,” I said. “We’re taught two ways of talking, devious and blunt.”

      Alice Brackley busied herself with the Rob Roy and a cigarette. Grimaldi looked like he was blowing steam out his ears. He asked me about my client and the client’s interest in Ace Disposal in four different ways. He didn’t get straight answers. On the other hand, neither did I, and I was the smarty who’d arranged the meeting with Alice Brackley in my single-minded quest for information about Ace. As a sleuth, I wasn’t stacking up. I looked at my watch. Seven o’clock. I peeked through the ficus benjamina beside my chair, and, right on cue, Annie B. Cooke made her entrance.

      She had on cotton jersey leggings and a backless rayon turtleneck. Both were black. Her shoes were light green leather and had sling backs. Annie had cinched her hair with a white beret. She walked up to the table and smiled. Grimaldi liked what he saw. He motioned aside Miriam and held out a chair for Annie. I performed the introductions all round.

      “Great,” I said. “Four for bridge.”

      Annie asked for a glass of white wine.

      “Are you a lawyer too, Miss Cooke?” Alice Brackley asked sweetly.

      “Annie,” Annie said. “No, I write about movies and review them on the radio.”

      “How fascinating,” Alice said. She checked in Grimaldi’s direction to see if he thought it was fascinating. He thought Annie was fascinating all by herself. Alice might have looked miffed at the attention Grimaldi was paying Annie. Or maybe I was reading her wrong.

      Alice said she adored Fred Astaire. She had a VCR at home, and almost every weekend she rented an Astaire film. Follow the Fleet was her favourite. Annie said Fred and Ginger made ten movies together. Alice said, Really? She counted nine. The ladies worked it out that the movie Alice was missing was Carefree. Annie and Alice carried on like sorority sisters. Annie told Alice to steer clear of Ghost Story. Fred didn’t sing or dance and it was a dud, even though Melvyn Douglas was in it too. Alice said Fred didn’t sing or dance in The Notorious Landlady either and it was a charmer, even though Kim Novak was in it too. Alice had loosened up. Her frequent glances at Grimaldi were the only sign she might be roping herself in.

      “How about you, Chuck?” I said. “What’s your choice in movies? Little Caesar?”

      Alice Brackley sucked in her breath.

      “You trying to aggravate me, Crang?” Grimaldi said.

      “Isn’t he a kidder?” Annie said to Grimaldi. She was laying her ambassadorial smile on him. “Terrible in polite company.”

      “Just a searching discussion among us film aficionados,” I said.

      Annie got her white wine and there was another Rob Roy for Alice. She steered the movie conversation back on track. Annie responded and Grimaldi chipped in. He liked Goldie Hawn. No telling people’s tastes. He waxed lyrical about Private Benjamin. Alice stayed relaxed as long as Grimaldi was talking and distracted. Annie was enough distraction for him. He directed most of his remarks to her. When he ran out of Goldie Hawn lore, he stood up and said he had an appointment. He beamed fondly on Annie and left. Alice trotted after him. Nobody said anything about the bill.

      “That’s one edgy lady, your friend Alice,” Annie said.

      “And I just thought she talked like Loretta Young.”

      “She’s nice,” Annie said. “Classy in the way that money helps. Pleasant woman. But she’s plenty, plenty nervous.”

      “She was steaming along in imperious form until the Man From Glad arrived.”

      “Dazzling he is.”

      “Wansborough thinks Grimaldi and Alice might have something going.”

      “Different types,” Annie said. “But, what the heck, opposites attract.”

      “That’s only in the physics laboratory.”

      “I detected tiny vibes between them,” Annie said. “Mainly from Alice’s side. Might be one of those crazy mixes, you know, fear and sex and fascination. I’ve seen it before.”

      “In movies.”

      “Real life too.”

      My martini glass was empty. I fiddled it between my fingers. It made a rich, tinkling sound on the top of the table.

      I said, “Uncanny how Grimaldi showed up at old Alice’s gabfest with me. La Serre is way off his territory if he lives out in the Kingsway.”

      “What are you telling me, Crang?” Annie asked.

      “Either Grimaldi wants to keep Alice on a short leash or he’s got his eagle eye on me,” I said. “Doesn’t really matter which. I’d say his main concern is to separate Alice and me.”

      Miriam arrived with another martini.

      “I ordered?” I said to her.

      “I’m sorry, sir,” she said. Her smile was in the Grimaldi league for candle power. “You tapped the table.”

      Girl didn’t miss a trick.

      “So I did, Miriam,” I said. I gave her my expansive look.

      Annie stood pat with her wine. She didn’t give Miriam any kind of look.

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