She ducked her head and flashed me a look that might have meant something to me if she had been a couple of years older and didn’t work for me, and swung around on her stool to take an in-coming call.
I went into my office and shut the door. My desk clock told me it was five past ten, early for a drink, although I wanted one. After a little hesitation, I decided the bottle wouldn’t know it was too early, hoisted it out of the desk drawer and gave myself a small, rather shamefaced nip. Then I sat down, lit a cigarette and pawed over the morning’s mail without finding anything to hold my interest. I dropped the lot in the out-tray for Paula’s attention, put my feet on the desk and closed my eyes. After the night’s excitement I felt a little frayed at the edges.
A bluebottle fly buzzed sleepily around my head. The two typewriters clacked in the outer office. Trixy played with her plugs. I dozed.
At twenty minutes to eleven I woke with a start at the sound of Paula’s voice in the outer office. I had time to get my feet off the desk and drag my out-tray towards me before she opened the door and came in.
“There you are,” I said as brightly as I could. “Come on in.”
“If you must sleep in the office, will you try not to snore?” she said, pulling up a chair and sitting down. “It’s demoralizing the staff.”
“They’ve been demoralized for years,” I said, grinning. “I had about two hours sleep last night. I’m a tired old man this morning, and I must be treated kindly.”
Her cool brown eyes rested on the bruise on my cheekbone, and her eyebrows climbed a half-inch.
“Trouble?”
“Well, excitement,” and I told her about Benny Dwan’s visit.