Once a Mutt (Trace 5) Read Free Page B

“You’re going to pass up this opportunity?”
    “You understand it very well,” Chico said. “I pass.”
    “How about lending me some money, then?”
    “No.”
    “Why not?”
    “You’re not good for it,” she said.
    “I’m going to have to raise your rent here,” Trace said. “I never thought it would come to this.”
    “What’s my new rent going to be?”
    “Fifteen thousand dollars a month,” Trace said. “Payable one month in advance.”
    “I’ll move. Then, where will you be?”
    “The whole world’s against me,” Trace said.
     
     
    Chico retrieved the telephone-answering machine from the garbage can, plugged it back in, and rewound it to zero. All the other messages had been for her.
    She dressed in a russet cocktail dress and told Trace she had some business, which meant she was doing a favor for the casino and “entertaining” some out-of-town high roller. As she left, he pointedly said nothing, but merely turned up the volume on the stereo.
    After a couple of drinks, he called Robert Swenson, the president of Garrison Fidelity Insurance Company. It sounded as if Swenson was having a party because there was a lot of screaming and shouting in the background, almost enough to drown out Swenson’s big avuncular voice.
    “Hello, Trace. How’s Chico?”
    “Mean, avaricious, and deceitful, as usual. Why don’t you ask how I am?”
    “Because you’re fine. You’re always fine,” Swenson said.
    “What the hell is all that racket?”
    “Let me close the door. Oka y, what’s on your mind?” Swenson said.
    “Did you talk to Walter Marks today?” Trace asked.
    “Yes. He told me you were quitting.”
    “I never said that,” Trace said. “What’d you say?”
    “I said good riddance to bad rubbish,” Swenson said.
    “Thanks a lot, pal,” Trace said.
    “You don’t want to quit?”
    “I never said I was going to quit. I was just turning down one assignment and Groucho made it into a big deal, like he was taking me off retainer and didn’t need me anymore and like that. Do you think I’d quit and leave you?” Trace asked.
    “Yes,” Swenson said. “As soon as you got two nickels to rub together.”
    “Well, it’s not like that at all,” Trace said. “I’ll tell you this. I want to do that job in Westport.”
    “What’s their names? Paddington? The guy who died in the plane crash?”
    “That’s right. I want to do that job. For you, Bob. And for the company.”
    “That’s the worst bullshit I ever heard in my life,” Swenson said. “What’s the matter? Broke again?”
    “That’s not important. I just want to do that job for you,” Trace said.
    “If that’s the way you want it.”
    “But I can’t call Groucho and tell him I changed my mind,” Trace said.
    “Why not?”
    “I couldn’t bear the humiliation of it all,” Trace said.
    “So you want me to call him and tell him to order you to take that job?” Swenson said.
    “Something like that. But you could tell him to ask me nicely. He could plead a little bit.”
    “Trace, he needs a little stroking now and then too. Let him order you. It’s good for his undersized ego.”
    “All right. As a favor to you, he can order me.”
    “Anything else?” Swenson asked.
    “No, that was it,” Trace asked. “You never told me what that racket was.”
    “Oh,” Swenson said. “I’ve got a few friends over. The wife’s out of town.”
    “Swell,” Trace said sarcastically. “I’m going through a crisis and you’re giving parties.”
    “Crises come and go,” Swenson said. “But parties are forever.”
     
     
    It was almost daylight when Chico returned and walked quietly into the bedroom.
    Trace didn’t ask her where she had been or what she had been doing. He knew and didn’t care to think about it. She spent a long time in the bathroom, then slid into the bed alongside him.
    Without rolling over, he grumbled, “If you’d invest your money wisely in a New Jersey restaurant, you wouldn’t