tales of the hotel st crispian, chapter 86: "looking sharp"

by horace p sternwall

illustrated by roy dismas, rhoda penmarq and konrad kraus

editorial consultant: Prof. Dan Leo



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ace of night - 3. davenport 7 - 5297

by horace p sternwall

illustrated by roy dismas

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no dame tonight. all right, i had been wrong before. and chuckie wouldn't be in harry's office forever, and i did not feel like looking at him or listening to him again that night - or any night. i finished my free drink, left a half buck tip - pretty generous, i thought, considering my situation - for the bartender, and got up off the stool. i was halfway to the door. "hey, pal, got a second?" the bartender was holding something out to me. i went over to him. it was a matchbook he was holding. "just take this. it might interest you, might not." i didn't feel like arguing with him. "sure, why not?" i figured there was a phone number written on it, or an address. i took it. "thanks." he just nodded, turned away. i started to head back down harry's dark hallway. then it hit me. jeez, what a chump i was - was i losing my touch, and my mind? i had been away for too long. way too long. it was some kind of frame! some cop - probably chuckie - would brace me, they would find the matchbook on me and the phone number or address on it would be the number or address of some poor slob harry had just had bumped off - probably in a very messy way, as he liked to do. or, the matchbook had some fingerprints on it that - you get the idea. i got close to the wall, and took the matchbook out of my pocket. not wasting any time, i held it in my handkerchief and rubbed it over good, even the nine or ten matches still in it. sure enough, there was a phone number - just a phone number - written in it. davenport 7 - 5297 easy enough to remember. i tossed the matchbook down at my feet. and as it fell into the shadow i saw the gold lettering on the front: johnny demarco's . best food and drink. never heard of it. i made it outside to the sidewalk. nobody braced me. i started walking down the street. i passed a couple of cabs. so maybe there was no frame. maybe i was imagining things. even so, i was right back where i was before i saw harry. davenport 7 - 5297. what did i have to lose? i decided to call it when i got back to my hotel. it started to rain. just what i needed. i still had eleven blocks to go back to the hotel and i didn't feel like wasting money on a cab. then it started to really rain. what the hell, i would take a cab. i was wearing my only decent suit and i didn't want it getting waterlogged. i ducked into the nearest doorway and waited for one. the rain was jumping in the street when one finally came by. i could barely make out that it was a cab. i jumped out and waved and it came over. i had to jump back so it wouldn't send a wave crashing over me. i reached for the rear passenger door. "hey mister, i saw him first! it was me that called him over!" i turned and there she was. the dame. the one i knew i was going to meet. "no problem, miss. we can share. in fact, i will pay, as far as i am going." "that's mighty nice of you, mister , but you don't have to be a big shot. i'll pay my way." "i'm headed for the hotel marmont." "the belmore - it's one more block." the cabbie leaned over. "jeez, will one or both of you get in, you are wet enough already." she got in. i got in beside her, and closed the door. "did i hear you say hotel marmont, pal?" "yes, you did." he pulled out. i turned to the girl. "and what did you say your name was?" "miss lost lamb. you must be mister smooth." "hey, the old lines are the best lines. say, a guy staying in a hotel, a girl staying in a hotel, we got a lot in common." "the belmore is a ladies residence hotel - no gentlemen beyond the lobby." "one of those places. but maybe i'm not a gentleman." "then you don't even get in the door." "ha ha. my name is jeff - jeff josephus." "i told you my name. miss lost lamb." the more she talked the more i thought i heard some kind of accent under the all american girl act. frog? kraut? russki even? "if you say so," i answered. "pleased to meet you. hey, maybe i'll see you around. living so close and all." "you never know, do you? " she turned and looked out at the rain. "nice view, huh? very scenic. i used to live around here, but i been away for a while." she ignored me. i let it go. for now. the cab kept going. we hit mostly green lights. "we must be almost there," she finally said. "here you go, pal. hotel marmont." the meter said three sixty five. i gave him four ones. "keep it. she can pay you too if she wants." i got out. it was raining harder than ever. i ran into the hotel without looking back. maybe she didn't know it, but miss lost lamb hadn't seen the last of me. part 4: the wind and the rain

the invitation - 3. the tarantula

by celine de courtot

illustrations by roy dismas and rhoda penmarq

"once upon a time there was a beautiful young princess. she lived in a faraway castle on the edge of a faraway sea. but although the castle was far away , it was not far enough away to shield it from the intrigues and turmoils of the world. some years before, the princess's mother, the queen, had had a spell placed on her by a wandering magician and been turned into a tarantula. a series of lord chamberlains had made every effort to apprehend the magician - or discover whose employ, if any, he had been in - but at the point at which our story begins, they had had no success . the tarantula, meanwhile, was kept in a comfortable, airy and well lit room in a strategic part of the castle, where a specially trained retinue of servants kept it well fed and well groomed. the former servants and attendants of the queen had all been arrested on suspicion of complicity with the wandering magician, and were languishing in a dungeon deep beneath the castle. the princess was permitted to visit the tarantula every day. she brought it little treats from the castle's excellent bakery, such as blueberry scones or strawberry cakes, of which it was especially fond. one morning as the princess was returning to her chambers from a visit to the tarantula she was informed by one of the palace guards that the lord chamberlain wished to see her . the princess had seen numerous lord chamberlains come and go and she had grown accustomed to their often whimsical and arbitrary ways. some were cold and dignified and concerned only with matters of grave import, others given to retailing little jokes and stories meant to amuse her, although the princess had a sensitive and romantic nature and was not so easily amused. one particularly jovial fellow had made a habit of pinching her cheeks - he was the only one she had personally had removed. none of the lord chamberlains had ever changed the furniture or decor of the lord chamberlain's chambers - a spartan suite of rooms within easy distance of the dungeons.

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l'amour, part 35

by gabrielle-jeanette perfidy

illustrated by rhoda penmarq

part thirty-five of seventy-eight

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part 36