Doctor Who_ Atom Bomb Blues - Andrew Cartmel [70]
‘Most commendable,’ said the Doctor. ‘If we can locate her I guarantee she won’t be badly treated. We’ll handle her with kid gloves.’
‘Not silk gloves?’ said the Duke, with a thin, wry smile. Now that he’d agreed to help them he seemed wistful, almost regretful. Ace wondered if the band leader’s relationship with the singer had been more than purely professional. The Duke carefully wiped his hands on the napkin, set it aside, and delved into the pocket of his jacket. He took out a notepad and a pen. ‘I’ll give you some addresses. Mostly music joints.’
‘She’s unlikely to be showing her face in public for obvious reasons,’ said the Doctor.
The Duke nodded. ‘I’ll also make a note of several drinking establishments, some of them rather less salubrious than others. They’re not exactly what you would call public places. And if you’re going to visit them I suggest you approach them with a certain amount of caution.’ He looked at Ace. ‘Especially if you’re taking a lady along with you.’
‘I’m no lady,’ said Ace.
Ellington chuckled. ‘Of course you are darling, of course you are.’
‘Ace merely means that she can take care of herself. Indeed, upon occasion she has had to take care of me.’
‘A friend in need? You are a fortunate man, indeed.’ The Duke stopped writing and contemplated the list. ‘There is one other place. As you may know, California in general – and Los Angeles in particular – is a hotbed of cults and charlatans and purveyors of multifarious brands of snake oil. Something about the west coast seems to attract them, and they certainly have no short-122
age of adherents.’ The Duke smiled. ‘Tricky Sam says LA is long on sunshine and oranges, and short on brains. Perhaps that’s why. Anyway, some of these phoney religious cats operate what they call churches. Places I would never dignify with such a designation. But there was one that Lady Silk used to get a kick out of visiting. She attended it on a regular basis. I’ll put that down too.’
‘Would you?’ said the Doctor. ‘That’s extremely helpful.’
‘My pleasure,’ said Ellington. ‘Anything to help Uncle Sam.’ He tore the page from his notebook, then reached into his pocket and took out two squares of green cardboard, which he wrapped in the notebook page. ‘Tickets for our Los Angeles show tonight,’ he said, handing them to the Doctor. ‘I hope you and your charming friend will do us the honour of attending.’
‘Thank you, that’s very kind indeed.’ The Doctor accepted the tickets and the piece of paper. The waiter came up beside their table, carrying a metal chafing dish full of crisp bacon. He looked crestfallen when he saw that the Duke had already polished off his pancakes.
‘I’m sorry sir,’ said the waiter. ‘They were backed up in the kitchen, getting ready for lunch and I had to get them to fry up some special. I told them to get a move on. I told them if they didn’t hurry they’d be too late.’
The Duke smiled. ‘Never mind, my friend. There’s only one solution. We shall have to have some more pancakes to accompany this delicious bacon.’
He accepted the chafing dish reverently, setting it on the table as if he was placing a sacrament on an altar. Ace had to admit that the bacon did smell delicious.
‘More pancakes,’ said the waiter happily. ‘Yes, sir!’
‘And sausages and a bowl of cream of wheat I think,’ said the Duke. ‘And when you have a moment perhaps you could bring me the lunch menu. And I imagine you serve ice cream.’
‘Yes, sir!’
The Doctor and Ace said their farewells and left the Duke happily contemplating ice cream. They headed back down the swaying length of the train, through cars full of troops who stole glances at Ace’s legs, towards the baggage compartment.