The Retrieval Read Online Free Page B

sidewalk, Charlie commanded Ducky, “Heel,” which earned him an intensely interested look as the dog came precisely to position at hip. Then they hurried to join Mrs. Hurley, who was telling Jake something about a detached garage along the alley to the side of the two-story house.
    This place was a little too large for a snug set of bachelor quarters, was Charlie’s first thought. This place was ridiculously attractive, was his second. Oh, no one would ever mistake it for anything authentically Spanish, but all the tile roofing, hardwood floors, iron curlicues, and rounded corners still murmured Mediterranean to Charlie. He had a weakness for balconies. And the rooms were well-designed and well-crafted for the local climate, to boot.
    They finished their tour upstairs, in the largest of the three bedrooms, where Jake stood regarding the sunlight flowing in through the tall, south-facing windows as yearningly as if he were watching a shimmering image of Jean Harlow up on the screen at a picture palace. No, Gary Cooper, but the principle was the same. There wasn’t a draftsman worth his salt who could resist this room. Up went the house’s price by another two hundred dollars.
    Mrs. Hurley planted both hands on her hips. “Well, fellows, what do you think? Still considering buying?”
    Although it was obvious by now what the missing piece of Jake’s shaving mirror conversation would have been, Charlie couldn’t resist turning slowly to him and asking in dulcet tones, “I’m not sure. What do we think, Jake?”
    Jake almost blanched. Hastily, he said, “I think Ducky needs to go out and check the garden again. And maybe the courtyard.”
    Ducky, who had been inspecting baseboards in nasal detail, looked up upon hearing his name.
    “Perhaps you two could talk over titles while we take care of business?” Jake asked as he cravenly retreated from the bedroom, Ducky in tow.
    The silence he left in his wake was brief. Mrs. Hurley turned to Charlie and studied him with care. “So, you two gents would be buying the house together?” Her eyes were shrewd, but at least they weren’t immediately hostile.
    “I believe that’s what Jake has in mind, yes.”
    “He’s a good boy, Mr. Hunter. Always on time with his rent, no loud parties, no overnight guests, helps keep up his apartment’s share of the walkways and shrubs. But I guess you knew all that. He told me you’re quite the friend of the family, almost an older brother except you used to date his sister.” Then her expression altered slightly. “Say, do I know you?”
    Of course this would be one of the rare occasions when Charlie was recognized. “Do you subscribe to The Saturday Evening Post, Mrs. Hurley?”
    Mrs. Hurley beamed. “I thought so. You’re Mr. Hunter, the author.” Offering him her hands, she said, “Honestly, Shoot the Chute was the funniest book.” That had been his first novel published all the way back in 1922. And the best work he’d ever done, damn it. “I really liked The White Way , too.” At least his latest book might be second-best. Mrs. Hurley also knew her light reading or at least agreed with Charlie’s tastes.
    He shook both of her hands in his best upper-crust speakeasy style. “Thank you. I could tell you were a lady of discernment. I suppose, given that, we’ll have to lock up Jake to keep him safe.”
    Charlie had judged correctly; this seemed to delight her. “Aren’t you a rascal? Well, if you’re out here to work for the studios, you’ll need someplace quiet for your writing. That downstairs room facing west would be just about perfect. Let’s go look at it again.”
    The hell of the thing was, she was right.
    “You’re right,” Charlie told Mrs. Hurley, hearing his own resignation. “It’s perfect. If Jake agrees, we’ll need a second appointment after the inspections are done, so I can weep over prices behind closed doors.”
    She patted his arm sympathetically. “That’s okay. Jake had already made