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The Starfield Club didn't look much different on the outside when I arrived, in what passes for daylight down here. I slipped inside, passing the same rotund bouncers - or at least ones that looked interchangeable - and paying a slightly reduced entrance fee. I was beginning to get fed up with transferring my funds to Hosh, whatever the excuse. Even though it was only lunchtime, the Club was buzzing. There was a brittle feeling in the air, with more energy and bounce now than the previous evening despite it being the middle of the day and the room only just half-full. The roulette and blackjack tables were crowded - most of them were already in operation - and loud cheers and applause were centred around one player who seemed to be on a winning streak. The stage was empty and the lights were down low, but the dance band was belting out an up-beat jazzy number at high volume for the entertainment of a few couples dancing - or at least writhing rhythmically - on the dance floor. I slumped in the same chair at the same table as last night. It might have been cleaned between then and now. It was too early to drink whiskey so I ordered a bottled beer from a uniformed waitress who barely acknowledged my presence. I lit a cigarette, again using the matchbook the Club provided. I slipped the matches into my pocket with the cigarettes. At least I'd get some value out of my entrance fee. My beer arrived on the table a few moments later, plonked down with the minimum of ceremony accompanied by the bill. The waitress opened the bottle in front of me then made off with both bottle cap and opener as if I had intended to steal them as soon as her back was turned. I sniffed cautiously at the beer then took a tentative sip. It tasted all right, but I wasn't going to chug it here and now. I could see Clathy working across the room. She seemed to be in high spirits. She darted across the floor with a loaded tray in her hand, winking and gossiping with the regulars while deftly avoiding the errant hands trying to pinch her bottom. I caught her eye; her face fell and she turned towards me carrying a tray full of empty glasses with looks like thunder. She bent down and hissed nervously in my ear. "You shouldn't be here," she said, "It's too dangerous." "For me or for you?" I countered, smiling up at her. "Both. Go away." "I'm here to see Clunie," I said calmly. "She's not here." I blew smoke over my shoulder. "Where is she then?" I asked. "How would I know? She had hysterics when the cops came to interview her yesterday. I and one of the other girls had to help her home." "Did the police talk to you too?" "Yeah. Hosh was mad about that. Went on about paying us to serve drinks not talk to coppers. I didn't dare tell him that I'd gone in a bar with you last night." "Did you tell the police that little nugget?" I pressed. "I had to. They already knew." It seemed that Luncardy was playing it straight. I breathed a sigh, which might have been of relief or maybe just cigarette smoke. "Okay. So where's Clunie's flop then?" I asked. She put her tray on the corner of the table and swept up the paper check. She took a pen from the tray and scribbled on the check. "Here," she grunted, pushing the paper across the table at me, "Now pay for your beer and get out." I looked up into her eyes - still lovely and much less tired than yesterday. "You want to write your address on that paper too?" I enquired levelly. She stared at me for a long moment, then glanced away. "All right." She turned the check over and wrote again. I pulled a bill from my pocket and put it on her tray. "Keep the change," I said politely. "Get lost," she said wearily, "Don't come here again. Ever." She picked up the tray and marched off. I watched her go all the way across the room.
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Part 14