Smart Moves by Stuart M. Kaminsky Page A

here,” he said. “Not one minute. Not even a second.”
    “Goodbye, Sheldon,” I said, ushering him into the hall.
    “Not even a lunch together? A breakfast? A show? We could have great times here, Toby. I know New York, I went to school here once.”
    He looked pathetic, a round lump in the hall all dressed up with no place to go but a dental convention. I almost felt sorry for him, but I remembered the times he had almost got me killed and my sympathy faded. Then I got an idea. “Where are you staying, Shell?”
    “Me?”
    “No,” I sighed. “Paul Muni.”
    He looked around for Paul Muni but there was no one in the hall but him and me.
    “I’m not staying anywhere yet,” he bleated. “My suitcase is in your room.”
    “How about we share a room right here in the Taft?” I asked, putting on my best smile and holding the door open for him to return. Carmichael had given me till midnight, but I needed more time than that to work on Albanese.
    Shelly took a tentative step back toward me, his cigar held out like a protective sword. “Share?”
    “Right. You go down, get a double room in your name, and we share. I’ll even pay for the room.”
    Shelly adjusted his glasses and stepped forward to squint at me. “You are not an easy person to understand, Toby. Do you know that? Are you aware of that?”
    “It’s part of my attraction,” I said. “Let’s get your suitcase. I’ll pack. If you have trouble getting a room, tell them you’re FDR’s dentist and he’s planning to stop by and see you.”
    “They won’t believe that,” he said, following me back into the room. “Hey, there’s a hole in your window?”
    “You noticed. Another reason to get another room.”
    “And I can help you with this case you’re on,” he said, hurrying over to the far side of the bed to retrieve his case.
    “We’ll see, Shell. We’ll see.”
    While Shelly went off, I put on a dry pair of socks and my last clean shirt, packed, and checked my watch. It still didn’t tell me anything, I called the desk and found out that it was getting close to six. It was still dark outside but the thunder had stopped. Maybe it wasn’t raining. I didn’t know how far it was to the place where Albanese was rehearsing. I needed an umbrella.
    Shelly came back ten minutes later, pink and glowing and dangling a key in front of my nose.
    “I got two of them.” He tossed the key to me. “I told them I was Roosevelt’s polio therapist. See, I can think on my feet too.”
    “You sure can, Shell. Let’s go.”
    I didn’t take Carmichael up on his offer to pay my bill. I wasn’t through at the Taft. Carmichael had laid down a challenge. Besides, Povey had taken his shot at me here and Albanese was staying here. I got a receipt and checked out after leaving a message at the desk for Carmichael. It was simple: “Watch your back and your pension. I checked out.” I went out the front door. It was drizzling but lightly. I went around the block, went into the side entrance, and took the service elevator up to the twelfth floor. When I went into Room 1234 I could hear Shelly singing off-key and loud. I dropped my suitcase on one of the beds and looked into the bathroom. Shelly was sitting in the tub smoking and scrubbing the top of his head with Ivory soap. He was also singing “When you’re in love with New York” to the tune of “Begin the Beguine.”
    “I’ve got to go out for a few hours, Shell. When I come back, we can go out for dinner.”
    “Chinese,” he shouted. Suds flowed down his forehead covering his glasses. “The native food of our allies.”
    His voice was raised in song as I closed the door.

7
     
    The rain had stopped but the sky was dark when I stepped out on Seventh Avenue. The Taft doorman checked my clothes and motioned for a cab. I got in and told the driver where I wanted to go.
    “That’s near the Village,” he said, shooting into traffic.
    “Right,” I said.
    He took the corner of Fiftieth,