I bought him another lemonade and had another whiskey and we talked about Detroit. In a little while he went back to the table and sat down.
That was enough for a beginning. I had registered myself with him as one of the boys. I went out and drove a couple of blocks to the Pine Hotel and took a room. The Pine was practically the only hotel in town, but I flipped the register back a day or so and found Healey’s name to make sure. Then I went up and washed and lay down to smoke a cigarette and figure out the details.
According to Lonnie Thompson, Healey was a cash boy-carried his dough in paper and traveler’s cheques. I couldn’t be sure of that but it was enough. The point was to get him to L A and in to one or two or three places where I could work on him.
I guess I must have slept almost an hour because it was dark when I woke up. Somebody was knocking at the door and I got up and stumbled over and switched on the light and opened the door. I was too sleepy to take Healey big — I mumbled something about coming in and sitting down, and I went over to the basin and put some cold water on my face.
When I turned around he was sitting on the bed looking scared. I offered him a cigarette and he took it and his hand was shaking.
He said: “Sorry I woke you up like that.”
I said: “That’s all right,” and then he leaned forward and spoke in a very low voice:
“I’ve got to get out of here right away. I want to know how much it’s worth to you to take me down to Los Angeles.”
I almost fell off the chair. My first impulse was to yell, “Sure,” and drag him down to the car; but he was scared of something and when a man’s scared is a swell time to find out what it’s all about.
I stalled. I said: “Oh, that’s all right,” sort of hesitantly.