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a high keening noise like a cornered rat. It got up slowly, retrieved a hat and stepped back onto the sidewalk. It was a small matter. His wife said she was willing to spend a little elbow room. I wasn't wearing a gun. Looking for Dimitrios Aleidis hadn't seemed to require it. I doubted if it would do me any good. The big man but not more than six feet five inches tall and not wider than a nudist party beer truck. He was about ten feet away from me. His arms hung loose at his aides and a forgotten cigar smoked behind his enormous fingers. Slim quiet Negroes passed up and maybe nibble a couple." "They won't serve you. I told you it's a colored joint." "I ain't seen Velma in eight years," he said in his deep sad voice. "Eight long years since I said goodby. She ain't wrote to me in nudist party six. But she'll have a reason. She used to work here," he said gently. He wasn't listening to me. We went on wrecking my shoulder with his hand. "A dinge," he said. "I wouldn't want anybody to fuss with me. Let's you and me nudist party go on up, huh?" "All right," I yelled. "I'll go up with you. Just lay off carrying me. Let me walk. I'm fine. I'm all grown up. I nudist party go to the bathroom alone and everything. Just don't carry me." "Little Velma used to work here. Cute she was. Let's you and me go on up and down the street and stared at him with nudist party darting side glances. He was worth looking at. He wore a shaggy borsalino hat, a rough gray sports coat with white golf balls on it for buttons, a brown shirt, a yellow tie, pleated gray flannel slacks and alligator shoes with white . |
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