Blues in the Night Read Online Free Page B

you’re still the go-to guy when it comes to what’s going down in the city.’
    â€˜A living, breathing Google on El Lay, that’s me. Enjoying the fruits of the age of information.’
    â€˜I need some background on a woman.’
    â€˜Ah, romance.’
    â€˜Not exactly,’ Mace said.
    â€˜If she works the city I’ll know her.’
    â€˜She’s no pro. At least, I don’t think so. Her name is Angela Lowell. Blonde, twenties, trim. Lady exec type.’
    â€˜Tits?’ Abe asked.
    For some reason the question annoyed Mace. ‘A pair, would be my guess,’ he said.
    Abe furrowed his brow and stared at the cup of coffee in front of him. After a few beats, he unfurrowed and shook his head. ‘Don’t think I know the lady. Sorry.’
    Mace took Wylie’s pad from his pocket. ‘You familiar with these places: The Leather Derby, The Honeymoon Court Drugs, The Inpost?’
    â€˜Dress shops, shoe shops, a drug store. What about ’em?’
    â€˜I was hoping you could tell me,’ Mace said, pocketing the pad. ‘Legit? Fronts? Connected in any way?’
    â€˜It’d help if you told me what’s on your mind.’
    â€˜Only confusion,’ Mace said.
    A waitress in short skirt, black stockings and a baggy sweater approached their table.
    â€˜Something to drink, Mace?’ Abe asked. ‘Coffee, cider, Perrier?’
    Mace shook his head, no.
    â€˜Nothing for us, honey,’ Abe said to the waitress. ‘But ask Teddy to keep an eye out for Jerry Monte. He’s late as usual.’
    â€˜Who’s this Monte?’
    â€˜Jerry Monte? Jesus, Mace, welcome to the world. He’s the new Justin Timberlake.’
    â€˜Who?’
    Abe blinked. ‘Let’s try the new, white, hetero Michael Jackson, may God rest his soul. Jerry Monte’s music gets millions of downloads. His movies top the lists and his computer games are everywhere you look. He created Captain Combat.’
    â€˜ That Jerry Monte,’ Mace said. ‘Never heard of him.’
    â€˜Well, he’s why this place is packed. The kids don’t come out to hear Miss Dirty Knickers over there.’
    Mace looked at the poetess who was carefully enunciating every word of an excruciatingly amateurish piece of poetic self-exploration. Buried in her doughy face was his faint memory of a rosebud-mouthed starlet.
    â€˜If this Monte guy is so big time, what draws him here? The girls?’
    â€˜Most of the showbiz cretins come in to read because it makes them feel intelligent,’ Abe said. ‘But Jerry’s got money in the club, not that that removes him from the cretin list.
    â€˜So, do you want me to try and turn something up on Miz Lowell?’
    â€˜You get a line on her, you can reach me at The Florian. I’m registered there under Wylie.’
    â€˜You still on Paulie Lacotta’s team?’ Abe said.
    â€˜Why do you ask?’
    â€˜The rumor was you took your fall for him.’
    â€˜You know how rumors are,’ Mace said.
    Abe had a comment but forgot it when the club went suddenly silent. His eyes shifted to the entrance where two very black walking slabs of beef had just moved past the bouncer. ‘And heeeeere’s Jerry,’ Abe said, standing. ‘I gotta go meet and greet. Stick around for the show. He’ll probably be reading from Charles Bkowski or maybe Rod McKuen. One of the greats.’
    â€˜I’ve gotta run anyway,’ Mace said. ‘I’m susceptible to frostbite.’
    â€˜Mind leaving by the rear?’ Abe asked, pointing to a back door. ‘Jerry sees you walking out, he’ll take it personally.’
    â€˜What’ll he do? Cry?’
    â€˜No. He’ll probably get his two associates to make you cry.’
    Mace glanced at the two bodyguards.
    â€˜Actually, he’s not that big an asshole. But it’ll probably piss him off and he’ll vent out on