wasn’t much left in the glass but crushed ice. “We wouldn’t want to disappoint Otto,” True said.
“We could, you know.”
“And we would if his invitation was just a friendly gesture.”
“You think there’s more to it?” Polly asked.
“I do. But I couldn’t tell you why.”
“One of your ‘feelings’?”
“A nuisance, I know—”
“Maybe he just wants a bigger crowd for Miss de Lune’s event.”
“Maybe.”
“Gracias, Javiar,” True said to the patrón. “Superb as usual.” He paid the bill and left an enormous tip.
CHAPTER TWO
BEYOND THE THREE-MILE LIMIT
Polly thought it would be too cold out on the water for her new gown, so she wore a much older and heavier silver number that she had always liked. True wore what he called his admiral suit: a double breasted blue blazer with gold buttons. In addition, each of them packed an overnight bag.
As Polly had predicted, the air was cold, and it pummeled them with light fists as it brought them far-off recorded dance music. The smell of cheap grilling meat wafted down the strand from the food stands.
“After today’s lunch I didn’t think I would ever be hungry again,” Polly said. “But there really is nothing like the heady fragrance of hot grease.”
“I’ll have Otto’s chef make up some for you special,” True said.
Polly stuck out her tongue at him.
They walked arm in arm through the light crowd to the end of the promenade where a small power boat with a green hull bobbed gently at the far end of a short pier. A single leather seat ran around the back and down both sides of the boat’s cockpit. Sitting behind the wheel was a well-bundled man with his hands in his pockets. He had a broad face, and points of dark hair strayed out from under his flat cap.
A few miles out on the water True could see the lights of what could only have been the Lucky Duck. A big searchlight swept the area around it. “Is that the hell ship?” Polly asked.
“That’s it. But don’t let Otto hear you calling it that,” True said. “He has always prided himself on running a refined operation.”
“No wonder the two of you got along so well,” Polly said.
When he saw he had customers, the pilot gathered himself together and stood up. “Going out to the big ship?” he asked.
“What’s the fare?” True asked.
“A quarter for each of you to go out. Coming back is free.”
“That sounds about right,” True said.
“Somehow, I am not encouraged,” Polly said as True helped her into the small boat. They huddled together in the stern as the pilot started the engine. It coughed twice, suddenly roared, then settled down to a happy chuckle.
“Hang on tight, folks. The ocean is mighty wet.”
True and Polly got a good grip on each other, but except for the sociability of it they needn’t have bothered. The boat putted slowly past a few rowboats and a magnificent sailboat with its sails furled, and then out into the bay.
“First time out?” the pilot asked.
“That’s right,” True said.
“I thought so. Haven’t seen you before. Never forget a face.”
“Well, Amos has that kind of face,” Polly confided.
True glanced at her, eyebrow raised.
“Yessiree, bob. I’ve seen ’em come and I’ve seen ’em go.” He laughed. “They arrive with a pocket full of money and a head full of dreams and leave wearing a barrel.”
“You mean they lose their shirts?” Polly suggested.
“Among other things,” the pilot agreed. “Sometimes I have to loan ’em change so they can call a friend to drive ’em home.”
“Say,” True inquired, “does this tub ever go any faster?”
“Oh sure. We could win the derby in this thing.” The small boat continued to putter along.
“I think that was a carefully veiled suggestion,” Polly told the pilot.
The pilot looked back at her with a surprised expression. “Oh sure. I get ’cha. Yessiree, bob.” He pushed a throttle forward and the engine roared, making the boat seem to leap into the air. True and Polly clutched each other as the boat flew along, seemingly slicing off the tops of the waves as spray spattered their faces. They would soon arrive at the Lucky Duck. The other advantage was that the engine was now making too much noise to allow conversation.
The lights of Santa Monica fell behind them and seemed to join together until the coast was a single bright bracelet. They broke through wisp after wisp of fog, and the lines of the Lucky Duck became more distinct. True had to keep revising upward how big the ship was. Many windows were lit, making the ship look like an office building lying on its side. It was held in place by hawsers as thick as a strong man’s arms.
The pilot swung the boat around, throwing up a wall of water, and giving True a temporary queasy feeling before the boat bumped gently against a floating landing stage that was connected to the ship by a wide gangway. There was enough room on the stage for a hundred people or so, but at the moment there were only two. The pilot tossed a line to a man dressed like Donald Duck—plus pants—and he wrapped it around a cleat in the stage. Standing near the Donald Duck man was a slim woman with long dark hair that caught the light shining from big lamps on the deck of the Lucky Duck.
The pilot and the Donald Duck man helped True and Polly up onto the landing stage—which was something of a trick because they had to wait until the boat and the stage were in sync, rising and falling at the same time. When the trick had been performed, the pilot handed up their overnight bags and waved at them. “Good luck,” he cried. “Don’t take any wooden nickels! Keep your powder dry!” He turned off the engine and hugged himself against the cold.
“Welcome to the Lucky Duck,” the slim woman said gaily as she picked up a bag in each hand. “I’m Juanita Núñez, the hostess and official greeter. If I can help you with anything, please do not hesitate to ask.”
True introduced himself and Polly, and immediately Miss Núñez’ became serious. “Yes, of course,” she said. “Mr. Kepler told me to expect you. He’ll want to know you’ve arrived. Would you come this way, please?”
“Not expecting any more guests this evening?” Polly asked.
“Not tonight,” Miss Núñez said. “You’re part of a very exclusive group.”
Polly raised her eyebrows at True, and he shrugged.
