"angela wilson from san francisco," he read, " central 5 - 2255 - hotel st crispian. the blue suite."
"that's it. just wanted to make sure you could read my writing."
"hotel st crispian, i know where that is, between washington square and seventh avenue, right?"
"yeah. now if you don't mind calling me a cab - "
"hey, i can give you a lift myself, if you want to wait a few minutes. i go almost right by there."
"you're closing up?"
"might as well. maisie or clyde can open the place up when they get here. they do it all the time."
"all right then. what about those two guys still playing in back?"
red shrugged. "they can go or stay and wait for maisie."
"cool." angie took her pack of cigarettes back out of her purse.
red went to get a jacket. "hotel st crispian - i knew that rung a bell."
"oh yeah? about what?"
"stan slade - the guy who just escaped from sing sing - he used to hang out there."
"you don't say."
"you see the papers?"
"no, i just got back in town tonight."
red came back with his jacket on. "let me just tell gus and whatshisname we're leaving."
"no rush."
red came back. "they say they'll wait for maisie or clyde. i'll lock them in."
red locked the door behind them and they walked over to his car on the pier.
"did you know slade?" red asked.
"i met him once or twice. i 'd know him if i saw him."
"tommy thought he was a pretty smart guy. went his own way."
"i thought he was kind of high hat. thought he was the devil's own gift to women."
they approached the car. "there's a pretty good reward out for him."
angie laughed. "rewards. does anybody ever really get paid off on them?"
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