dismal walk home. So I settled back and forced myself to take an interest in the remaining people in the lobby. The thin man and the thinner woman had left. The elderly couple had been claimed by another elderly couple and were being steered towards the restaurant. The two businessmen continued to smoke their cigars and discuss whatever they were discussing.
My eyes shifted to the little old woman with her poodle.
Hotel lobbies are cluttered up with little old women: some of them thin, some fat, but always on their own and lonely. This little old woman was a typical specimen. I guessed she had lost her husband, had money, was on a conducted tour of California, and would return to some lonely mansion where a butler and a number of aging maids robbed her blind. She had spent money on herself: her ash-blonde wig was immaculate: her glasses bejeweled: her emerald green dress probably from Balmain, and diamond rings flashed on her fingers.
I became aware she was staring at me and quickly shifted my eyes. In spite of not looking at her, I still felt her staring at me.
Jeepers! I thought, have I started something with this old lonely? It seemed I had for she got out of her chair, picked up the poodle and came over to me.
‘It must be Mr. Jerry Stevens!’ she exclaimed, pausing at my side.
Man! I thought as I stood up. I only need this! I gave her my charming smile.
‘Mr. Stevens! I don’t want to intrude, but I feel I must tell you how much I loved your performance in The Sheriff of X Ranch.’
If ever there was a movie that stank - The Sheriff of X Ranch took the Oscar for all stinkers.
I glued on my charming smile.
‘That’s very kind of you, madam. Thank you.’
‘I’ve been following all your movies, Mr. Stevens,’ she went on. ‘You have an outstanding talent.’
Talent? I could hear Lu’s braying laugh.
I looked directly at her and received a slight shock.
This woman wasn’t the usual hotel lobby loner. There was steel in her dark blue eyes and her lips were paper-thin.
‘Thank you,’ I said, not knowing what else to say.
She peered at me, smiling.
‘I was about to have a late dinner. I wonder if you would join me?’ She paused, then went on, ‘Oh, Mr. Stevens, do be my guest! It would give me so much pleasure!’ Again a pause, then seeing I was floundering, she went on, ‘I would so much like to hear about your work, but perhaps you have already dined?’
Dined? My last meal had been a greasy hamburger at midday. I was starving hungry.
All the same, I hesitated. Some forty minutes had dragged by. Mr. Durant had had all the time in the world to hire me. This old woman was obviously loaded. Be my guest. I couldn’t resist such an invitation. The thought of a big, juicy steak and a mass of french fries brought saliva to my mouth.
‘Why, that would be nice. Thank you.’
She patted her hands together.
‘I am so pleased! I didn’t think . . .’ She smiled. ‘Let’s go then. I adore Westerns. I am sure you can tell me how they are made. There must be so many interesting tricks.’ She began to move to the exit. I was surprised. I had imagined we would eat in the hotel restaurant, but as she kept moving, I followed her.
Out on the steps, the doorman lifted his cap and bowed to her, then he whistled. Almost immediately, a dark blue Silver Cloud Rolls Royce appeared out of the darkness. A Japanese, in a grey uniform, wearing a peak cap, had the door open.
‘There is a nice little restaurant,’ she said, pausing. ‘You must know it. The Benbow. Would it bore you to eat there?’
The Benbow! I had never been there, but I knew of it. The best restaurant in the district! Even in my affluent days, I had never dared face their prices. Before I could say anything, she got into the car. A little dazed, but with the black cloud of depression now dispersed, I sat in luxury at her side.
The chauffeur slid into the driving seat and edged the car into the traffic.
‘Madam,’ I said, smiling
My eyes shifted to the little old woman with her poodle.
Hotel lobbies are cluttered up with little old women: some of them thin, some fat, but always on their own and lonely. This little old woman was a typical specimen. I guessed she had lost her husband, had money, was on a conducted tour of California, and would return to some lonely mansion where a butler and a number of aging maids robbed her blind. She had spent money on herself: her ash-blonde wig was immaculate: her glasses bejeweled: her emerald green dress probably from Balmain, and diamond rings flashed on her fingers.
I became aware she was staring at me and quickly shifted my eyes. In spite of not looking at her, I still felt her staring at me.
Jeepers! I thought, have I started something with this old lonely? It seemed I had for she got out of her chair, picked up the poodle and came over to me.
‘It must be Mr. Jerry Stevens!’ she exclaimed, pausing at my side.
Man! I thought as I stood up. I only need this! I gave her my charming smile.
‘Mr. Stevens! I don’t want to intrude, but I feel I must tell you how much I loved your performance in The Sheriff of X Ranch.’
If ever there was a movie that stank - The Sheriff of X Ranch took the Oscar for all stinkers.
I glued on my charming smile.
‘That’s very kind of you, madam. Thank you.’
‘I’ve been following all your movies, Mr. Stevens,’ she went on. ‘You have an outstanding talent.’
Talent? I could hear Lu’s braying laugh.
I looked directly at her and received a slight shock.
This woman wasn’t the usual hotel lobby loner. There was steel in her dark blue eyes and her lips were paper-thin.
‘Thank you,’ I said, not knowing what else to say.
She peered at me, smiling.
‘I was about to have a late dinner. I wonder if you would join me?’ She paused, then went on, ‘Oh, Mr. Stevens, do be my guest! It would give me so much pleasure!’ Again a pause, then seeing I was floundering, she went on, ‘I would so much like to hear about your work, but perhaps you have already dined?’
Dined? My last meal had been a greasy hamburger at midday. I was starving hungry.
All the same, I hesitated. Some forty minutes had dragged by. Mr. Durant had had all the time in the world to hire me. This old woman was obviously loaded. Be my guest. I couldn’t resist such an invitation. The thought of a big, juicy steak and a mass of french fries brought saliva to my mouth.
‘Why, that would be nice. Thank you.’
She patted her hands together.
‘I am so pleased! I didn’t think . . .’ She smiled. ‘Let’s go then. I adore Westerns. I am sure you can tell me how they are made. There must be so many interesting tricks.’ She began to move to the exit. I was surprised. I had imagined we would eat in the hotel restaurant, but as she kept moving, I followed her.
Out on the steps, the doorman lifted his cap and bowed to her, then he whistled. Almost immediately, a dark blue Silver Cloud Rolls Royce appeared out of the darkness. A Japanese, in a grey uniform, wearing a peak cap, had the door open.
‘There is a nice little restaurant,’ she said, pausing. ‘You must know it. The Benbow. Would it bore you to eat there?’
The Benbow! I had never been there, but I knew of it. The best restaurant in the district! Even in my affluent days, I had never dared face their prices. Before I could say anything, she got into the car. A little dazed, but with the black cloud of depression now dispersed, I sat in luxury at her side.
The chauffeur slid into the driving seat and edged the car into the traffic.
‘Madam,’ I said, smiling
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