They followed her up a narrow stairway to a big landing that could have been a lot cleaner. There were four doors leading on to the landing. She plodded over to the farthest one and unlocked it.
“How’s this?” she said.
The room was big. Two beds divided by a small table faced the window. The carpet was thick, and the chairs overstuffed. It looked good to Myra after Butch’s shack.
“This’ll do fine,” she said.
Miss Benbow shot her a contemptuous look. Her eyes rolled inquiringly at Dillon.
“Yeah,” Dillon said, dumping the suitcases down. “What about some chuck? My belly’s flappin’.”
Miss Benbow put another pound of grease in her smile. She could well afford to feed these two. “I’ll send somethin’ up right away,” she said, “you bet.”
When she had pulled the door to after her Myra shot a look at Dillon. “You’re playin’ a fancy hand, ain’t you?” she said. “Fifty bucks a day! That’s some dough.”
“Pipe down,” Dillon said coldly. He gave her a hard look. “Can’t you use your head? This joint means a lot to me. I can meet the big shots here…. I gotta hunch I can pull somethin’ big… ain’t that worth payin’ for?”
He tossed his fedora on a hook on the door and walked over to Myra. They looked at each other.