Cassada Read Online Free PDF Page B

knew.”
    â€œLieutenant Ferguson!” Dunning called. Ferguson had just come back in the room.
    â€œAll present, sir!”
    â€œCome over here a minute.”
    â€œYes, sir.”
    â€œI was just wondering . . . What do you think of this new singer?”
    Ferguson made a sound like the growl of a cat.
    â€œI thought so. What is it exactly you like?”
    â€œThe dress,” Ferguson said.
    â€œWhat about it?”
    â€œDo you think she’s wearing anything under it?” he said.
    â€œShe couldn’t be,” Mayann said.
    â€œYou think so?”
    â€œThere isn’t any room.”
    â€œI was under the impression you liked her voice,” Dunning went on.
    â€œOh, yes,” Ferguson said. “That, too.”
    He was the first one to go back when the band struck up again. The club steward meanwhile opened a dividing curtain that had been drawn between the two rooms. Those sitting at the table couldnow see. The singer, in a white dress with a little fringe at the bosom and hips, had walked up the three steps to the stage and its brilliant bath of light.
    Godchaux, lingering behind, came to the bar.
    â€œEnjoying yourself?” Mayann asked.
    Godchaux gave a slight shrug. His face always wore a guileless expression.
    â€œDo you want a drink?”
    She called the bartender.
    â€œYes, Mrs. Dunning?” He was looking towards the stage. The singer was in the spotlight, her mouth near the microphone, the little fringe at the top trembling as she breathed.
    â€œYou’re too old for that, Hans. Give us a couple of drinks,” Mayann said.
    He reached down for the glasses. “She’s prima, no?”
    â€œDo you know where she’s from?” Godchaux asked.
    â€œWhat’s that, Lieutenant?”
    â€œWhere’s she from?”
    â€œMunich,” Hans said.
    â€œThat figures.”
    â€œWhat would you like to drink?”
    â€œBourbon.”
    â€œWith water?”
    â€œOn the rocks.”
    â€œMrs. Dunning?”
    â€œGive me another of these.” She pushed forward her nearly empty glass, ignoring the one her husband had left for her. To Godchaux she said, “How come you’re not in there with the rest of them straining your eyes?”
    â€œOh . . .”
    â€œWhat is it, you already have a girlfriend?”
    â€œMe?” Godchaux said. “Uh, not really. Not here. In Munich . . .”
    â€œI see. So how do you handle it? Don’t you get horny?”
    The smile, always ready to appear on Godchaux’s face, did, but it was embarrassed. He glanced at the floor.
    â€œWell, don’t you?”
    â€œI, uh . . . To be honest, I’m not used to talking like this.”
    â€œWith a woman?”
    â€œI guess so.”
    â€œYour face is all red.”
    Something was occurring, perhaps it was occurring. He knew he was in good favor with the squadron commander; he had never thought beyond that. They drank for a while in silence and watched the singer. After the set was over, Ferguson brought her back with him. She was no less impressive at close hand.
    â€œThey want me to be drunk,” she said to Mayann. She held up a glass dark with whiskey.
    â€œCan’t think what for,” Mayann said.
    â€œOh, ho,” the singer said, smiling.
    Ferguson was on one side of her, Harlan on the other. They were asking her where in Munich she was from, what part? Someone started singing In München steht ein Hofbräuhaus and without much urging she joined in. Cassada had his glass raised high and was singing without knowing the words. He was watching their mouths and getting one every now and then.
    â€œIt’s nice having them back, isn’t it?” Jackie Grace said.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œIt’s nice having them back.”
    â€œI don’t know,” Mayann said. “Sometimes I think I might like somebody else back.”
    For a moment it was not understood. Then,
    â€œOh,