We went to Victor's. On the way, I said something stupid about his new life
and he said that if he wasn't happy, at least he was rich. And he said that he
wasn't having any trouble at all handling his drinking these days.
'Perhaps you were never really drunk,' I said.
At the bar we drank gin and lime, an Englishman's drink. Lennox said they
didn't know the right way to make them here. I wasn't interested in talking about
drinks, so I asked him about his pal in Las Vegas. Down my street, I said, Starr
was known as a tough customer.
'Randy? In Las Vegas, he's a straight businessman. You should drop in and
see him next time you're there. He'll be your pal.'
'Not too likely. I don't like gangsters.'
'That's just a word, Marlowe. We have that kind of world. The wars gave it
to us and we're going to keep it. Randy and I and another guy were all in a little
danger once together. It's different for the three of us.'
'So why didn't you ask him for help when you needed it?'
He finished his drink and signalled for another. 'Because he couldn't refuse.
I didn't want to beg from him.'
'You begged from a stranger.'
He looked me straight in the eye. 'Strangers can keep going and pretend not
to hear.'
When he finished the second drink, he drove me back to the office.
From then on, it became his habit to drop in around five o'clock. We
usually went to Victor's. I didn't understand why he enjoyed being with me
instead of being in his big expensive house. I asked him about that once.
'Nothing for me at the house,' he said, drinking his usual gin and lime.
'Am I supposed to understand that?'
'A big film with no story, as they say in the film business. Sylvia is happy
enough. But not with me. In our circle, that's not too important. You see, the rich
don't really have a good time. They never want anything very much except
maybe someone else's wife, and that's a pale desire compared with the way a
butcher's wife wants new curtains for the living room. Mostly, I just kill time. A
little tennis, a little swimming.'
I told him it didn't have to be the way it was. He said I should wonder why
she wanted him, not why he wanted to be there.
'You like having servants and bells to ring,' I said.
He just smiled. 'Could be. I grew up as an orphan with no money.'
I began thinking I liked him better drunk, hungry and beaten and proud.
That night, he would have told me the story of his life if I'd asked him. If I had
asked, and if he had told me, it might have saved a couple of lives. It might
have.
!
The last time we had drinks together was in May. It was earlier than usual
and the bar was nearly empty.
'I like bars at this hour,' he said. 'I like to watch the man fix the first one of
the evening. I like to taste it slowly. Alcohol is like love. The first kiss is magic.'