The Devil Met a Lady Read Online Free PDF

white blouse.
    “Twenty-five a day plus expenses,” I said. “To protect your wife, possibly to find out who this person is. If it’s some crackpot, fine, but … Can you pick that up for a week or two?”
    “I think so,” he said. “Then you accept?”
    “I want to think about it a while.”
    “There isn’t time to think about it,” Farnsworth said nervously. “The man who called said I had no more than a day to find you and be ready to give him an answer.”
    “Can I finish my sandwich and drink?” I asked.
    “Sure.”
    “You don’t think this guy is just a nut,” I said.
    Farnsworth shook his head.
    “Why?”
    Arthur Farnsworth looked toward the window of Levy’s, just beyond Carmen. She caught the look, thought it was thrown at her, and grinned.
    “He sounded sane and I told you he played me part of the record on the phone,” he said, looking at me again. “Maybe it was a fake, but … it would ruin Bette’s career.”
    I forked up stray bits of corned beef and coleslaw and we didn’t do any more talking for about three minutes. When I was finished, I reached out my right hand and he took it.
    “Deal,” I said. “I keep good records and bill you as soon as the job is done, or monthly, if it goes that long. I need two hundred in advance.”
    Farnsworth happily dug into his pocket for his wallet and came up with the right number of twenty-dollar bills.
    “You want a receipt?” I asked.
    “No,” he said. “You’ll start today?”
    “I’ll start today,” I agreed. “Let’s go talk to your wife.”
    I reached for the check Rusty had dropped on the table. Farnsworth’s mind was somewhere else; he didn’t stop me. Fine. He’d get a bill for it. I got up, check in hand.
    “That’s a problem,” said Farnsworth, getting up. “I mean, talking to Bette.”
    “Why?”
    “I’d rather she not know about this,” he said. “I don’t want to frighten her.”’
    “I’m supposed to protect her without her knowing it?”
    “Yes,” he said.
    “Won’t work, Arthur,” I said, getting familiar. “She’ll spot me within a few days. If I’m supposed to keep people from grabbing her in your house or on the street, I’ve got to be close. And with this face, I can’t just melt into a crowd of fans.”
    Actually, there was almost no way Bette Davis would fail to spot me. My face was not unfamiliar to her. We’d both spent a good part of our life sentence at Warner Brothers, she as a well-paid slave, me as a badly paid guard.
    “Try,” he said earnestly, moving inches from my face and taking a firm grip on my right arm. “Please.”
    “Three conditions,” I said. “One, if I have to, I can tell her what’s going on. I’d rather have you do it and I’ll try to reach you if I can, but I want your okay.”
    “You’ve got it,” he said. “Here’s my card with two numbers where you can reach me. I’ve written our home number on the back.”
    “Second condition,” I went on. “If this guy does contact me, I want your okay to tell him whatever I want.”
    “Lie, promise, do whatever you have to,” he said. “Just stop him and take care of Bette. The last condition?”
    I liked Arthur Farnsworth. He was an easy client. “I may need to use some associates. I’ll pay them out of my fee. If you have some reason to meet them, I don’t want to hear any complaints.”
    “You’re the professional,” he said. “I have no intention of questioning your choice of associates.”
    “One is a bald giant. Another is a little person, about three feet tall. The last, who I use only in emergencies, is a short, fat guy with thick glasses and a built-in cigar.”
    “You’re joking,” Farnsworth said as Rusty squeezed past us to pick up his tip. I’d been generous. Rusty looked as close to happy as he could get.
    “They’re invaluable,” I said. “The bad guys always underestimate them.”
    Farnsworth now looked a bit less sure of himself and his choice, but it was a done