“Nine o’clock tonight?” I said.
“About then.”
“I wouldn’t want to spend all that money unless I was sure the information was of value.”
“If I can get my memory working,” she said, “I wouldn’t be surprised if the information was of value.”
“See you at nine, then.”
“Bring the money with you, mister. It has to be cash on the line.”
“Sure. Let’s hope this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”
She gave me a long, thoughtful stare and then closed the door in my face. I walked slowly back up the path, climbed over the gate and got into the Buick.
Why nine o’clock? I wondered as I trod on the starter. Why not now? Of course the money had something to do with it, but she wasn’t to know I hadn’t come heeled with five hundred dollars. She didn’t ask. This was a smooth, bright baby: a baby who knew all the answers, and could make four and four add up to nine. I sent the Buick down the road so the speedometer needle flickered up to seventy after the first hundred yards. At the bottom of the road I crammed on the brakes to make the turn into Beach Road, gave an elderly gentleman about to cross the street three different kinds of heart disease, straightened out of the skid and went on until I saw a drug store. I swung to the kerb, ran across the sidewalk into the store and into a phone booth.
Paula answered the phone after the second ring.