Dolores stood in the doorway, a small thin woman in a faded nightgown, her gray hair straggly and hanging at the sides of her face, her collarbones showing sharply where the gown ended. The rage began building inside her, finally spread into her face, and then exploded from her mouth in a string of epithets.
"I need a room," Maria said hastily. "The one downstairs, is it…?"
"I can pay five dollars," Maria said.
"The room downstairs is empty. I get the key. You stupid whore, why didn't you say five dollars? Come out of the hallway, you'll get pneumonia."
Maria stepped into the apartment. In the kitchen, she could hear Dolores opening drawers, cursing mildly as she searched for the key. In a few moments, Dolores came back.
"The five," she said.
Maria opened her purse and gave her five dollars. Dolores gave her the key. "Good night," Dolores said, and she closed the door.
He was still waiting in the street when Maria went to him. "I got a room from Dolores," she said.
"Who?"
"Dolores Faured. An old woman who…" She stopped and grinned. "Come," she said, and she led him to a room at the rear of the ground floor. She opened the door, flicked on the wall light, and then locked the door behind him.
He reached for her almost instantly, and she danced away from him and said, "I heard a proposal of twenty dollars."
He took out his wallet, grinning. He was a big man with big hands, and she watched his hands, and she watched the methodical way in which he counted out the bills. He handed her the bills and because she didn't want to seem cheap-even though she'd already laid out five for the room-she didn't count them. She put them in her purse, and then took off her coat.
"Last time I saw you," she said, "you didn't seem interested in me personally. You were more interested in cards."
"That was last time," he said.
"Well, I'm not complaining," she said.
"I've been looking for you all night," he said.
"Really?" She walked toward him, wiggling suggestively. Now that the twenty dollars was in her purse, the game could proceed again. "Well, you found me, baby."
"I wanted to talk to you, Maria."
"Come, baby, we'll talk horizontally," she said.
"About Gonzo," he told her.
"Gonzo?" She seemed puzzled. "Oh, are you still saying that silly name?"
"I like it," he said. "Now, about your arrangement with Gonzo."
"I have no arrangement with Gonzo," she said. Slowly, she began unbuttoning her blouse.
"Ah, but you do."
"Listen, is this all you want to do? Talk, I mean? You didn't have to pay me twenty dollars to talk."
She took off the blouse and draped it over the back of a chair. The chair, a bed, and a dresser were the only pieces of furniture in the room. He studied her and then said, "You're small."
"I'm not Jane Russell," she answered, "but I'm in proportion to the rest of me. For twenty dollars, you don't get movie queens."
"I'm not complaining."
"Then what's the holdup?"
"There's more to say first."
Maria sighed. "You want me to undress, or no?"
"In a minute."
"This room ain't exactly warm, you know. Whatever I got, I don't want to freeze 'em." She grinned, hoping he would grin back. He did not.
"About Gonzo," he repeated.
"Gonzo, Gonzo, what's with you and Gonzo, anyway?"
"A lot," he said. "I asked Gonzo to make that arrangement with you."
"Wha…" She stared at him, surprised. "You? You asked him to…?"
"Me," he said, and now he was grinning again.
Warily, she asked, "What arrangement are you talking about?"
"The arrangement with Gonzo and your brother."
"Go ahead," she said, "tell me more."
"Where you promised Gonzo you'd swear you saw your brother and this Byrnes kid arguing."
"Yeah?" she asked suspiciously.
"Yeah," he answered. "Gonzo was working on my orders. He gave you twenty-five dollars, didn't he?"
"Yes," Maria said.
"And he said there'd be more, didn't he, if you swore you heard them arguing."
"Yes," Maria said. She shivered and said, "I'm cold. I'm getting under the covers." Unselfconsciously, she slipped out of her skirt, and then ran to the bed in her brassiere and panties and pulled the covers to her throat. "Brrrrrrrr," she said.
"Did Gonzo tell you what it was all about?"
"Only that this would be a good deal, and that my brother was in on it."
"What about since your brother died? Has Gonzo said anything about that?"
"He said my brother fouled up the works. Listen, I'm cold. Come on over here."
"Do you feel any differently about the deal since your brother died?" he asked, walking toward the bed. He took off his overcoat and draped it at the foot of the bed.
"No," she said, "why should I? He committed suicide. So why should…"
