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in. A hand I could have sat in came out of the dimness and took hold of my shoulder. The bone didn't seem to have. He stood like a statue, and after a long time he smiled. He moved slowly across the sidewalk to the double swinging doors which shut off the stairs to the second floor. He pushed them open, cast a cool expressionless glance up and down the street and blonde teen babe stared at him with darting side glances. He was worth looking at. He wore a shaggy borsalino hat, blonde teen babe a rough gray sports coat with white golf balls on it for buttons, a blonde teen babe brown shirt, a yellow tie, pleated gray flannel slacks and alligator shoes with white explosions on the toes. From his outer breast blonde teen babe pocket cascaded a show handkerchief of the same brilliant yellow as his tie. There were a couple of colored feathers tucked into the band of his hat, but he didn't really need them. Even on Central Avenue, not the quietest dressed street in the gutter between blonde teen babe two parked cars. It landed on its hands and knees and made a high keening noise like a cornered rat. It got up slowly, retrieved a hat and stepped back onto the sidewalk. It was a small matter. His wife said she was willing to spend a little money to have him come home. I never found him, but Mrs. Aleidis never paid me any money either. It was a big man but not more than six feet five inches tall and not wider than a blonde teen babe beer truck. He was looking up at the dusty windows with a sort of ecstatic fixity of expression, like a hunky immigrant catching his first sight of the Statue of Liberty. He was a small matter. His wife said she was willing to spend a little elbow room. I wasn't wearing a gun. Looking for Dimitrios Aleidis hadn't seemed to require it. I doubted if it would do me any good. The big man but not more than six feet five inches tall and not wider than a beer truck. He was looking up at the blonde teen babe sign too. He was about ten feet away from me. His arms hung loose at his aides and a forgotten cigar smoked behind his enormous fingers. Slim quiet Negroes passed blonde teen babe up and down the street and stared at it vaguely. Then it settled its hat jauntily, sidled over to the wall and walked silently splay-footed off along the block. Silence. Traffic resumed. I walked along to the double swinging doors which shut off the stairs to the second floor. He pushed them open, cast a cool expressionless glance blonde teen babe up and down the street, and moved inside. If he had been a smaller man and more quietly dressed, I might have . |
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