The bell of the telephone standing on the bar rang sharply. The barman picked up the receiver, listened, said, “Yes, sir,” and replaced the receiver. He turned to Gollowitz. “Mr. Seigel’s asking for you, sir. He’s in your office. It’s urgent.”
Gollowitz scowled. Couldn’t Seigel hold down his job for ten minutes without bothering him? he thought as he got off his stool. He’d have to go. No sense in risking trouble at the beginning of his reign.
“That guy can’t blow his own nose without me helping him,” he said, smiling at Dolores. “Perhaps we might have lunch together in twenty minutes?”
She shook her head.
“Better not, Abe. Too many spies around,” She gave him a warning look. “I’m going home now.” She slid off the stool. “One of these days we’ll have lunch together. I’m looking forward to the time, Abe, when there will be no restrictions between us.” Her look was full of meaning as she smiled a good-bye.
He watched her walk across the bar to the door, his eyes feast-ting on her, watching the slow rolling movement of her hips under the thin material of her frock as she walked, her broad, square shoulders and her long, tapering legs. He felt sick with desire for her.
Seigel was pacing up and down when Gollowitz entered his office. His face was pale and his breath stank of whisky as he approached Gollowitz.
“They’ve got the girl!” he said breathlessly.
Gollowitz stiffened.
“What do you mean? Who’s got the girl?”