The Right To Sing the Blues Read Online Free PDF Page A

and love in a few easy lessons. You know how some young rich girls are.”
    Nudger knew. “Is Hollister the guy to teach her?”
    “You might think so, judging by his surface qualities, but I think he might be a phony. I think he might take her straight through to graduation, but no diploma. And that’s what scares me enough to hire you.”
    Someone in the backup band announced Ineida Mann. There was light applause, and she acknowledged it with a smile, slipped into the pensive mood of the music, and began to sing the plaintive lyrics of an old blues standard. She had control but no range. Nudger found himself listening to the backup music, which included a smooth clarinet.
    The band liked Ineida and went all out to envelope her in good sound, but the audience at Fat Jack’s was too smart for that. Ineida finished to more light applause, bowed prettily, and made her exit. Competent but nothing special, and looking as if she’d just wandered in from suburbia. But this was what she wanted and her rich father was getting it for her. Parental love could be as blind as the other kind. Sometimes it could cause just as much trouble.
    The lights came on full brightness, and conversation and the sale of drinks stepped up in volume and activity. There apparently would be no more music for a while. Some of the customers began drifting toward the door, to continue roaming the night for more fun or blues or whatever else they needed. It was early yet; there was promise in the air.
    “The crowd’ll thin out soon,” Fat Jack said. “It’s Hollister they came to hear.”
    “They stuck around for Ineida’s act.”
    “Jazz folks are a polite audience. And like I told you, Ineida ain’t all that bad. She’s worth the cover price, once the customers are in. But it’s people like Hollister that get them in.” Fat Jack took another delicate sip of his absinthe, diamond ring and gold bracelet flashing in the dimness. “So how are you going to get started on this thing, Nudger? You want me to introduce you to Hollister and Ineida? Or are you gonna sneak around sleuth-style?”
    “Usually I begin a case by discussing my fee and signing a contract,” Nudger said.
    Fat Jack waved his immaculately manicured, jewel-adorned hand. “Hey, don’t worry about fee. Let’s make it whatever you usually charge plus twenty percent plus expenses. Trust me on that.”
    That sounded fine to Nudger, all except the trusting part. He reached into his inside coat pocket, withdrew his roll of antacid tablets, thumbed back the aluminum foil, and popped one of the white disks into his mouth, all in one practiced smooth motion.
    “What’s that stuff for?” Fat Jack asked.
    “Nervous stomach.”
    “You oughta try this,” Fat Jack said, nodding toward his absinthe. “Eventually it eliminates the stomach altogether.”
    Nudger winced, feeling his abdomen twitch. “I want to talk with Ineida,” he said, “but it would be best if we had our conversation away from the club. And without us having been introduced.”
    Fat Jack pursed his lips thoughtfully and nodded. He said, “I can give you her address. She doesn’t live at home with her father; she’s in a little apartment over on Beulah Street. It’s all part of the making-it-on-her-own illusion. I can give you Hollister’s address, too.”
    “Fine.”
    “Anything else?”
    “Maybe. Do you still play the clarinet?”
    “Does Andy Williams still sing ‘Moon River’?”
    Nudger smiled. A silly question deserved a silly question.
    Fat Jack cocked his head and looked curiously at Nudger, one tiny eye squinting through the tobacco smoke that hazed the air around the bar. “The truth is, I only play now and then, on special occasions. You aren’t going to ask me to play at your wedding, are you?”
    “It’s too late for that,” Nudger said, “but a blues number would have been perfect on that occasion. Why don’t we make my price for this job my usual fee plus only ten percent plus you