Somewhere in the Night Page #2

at the Martin Hotel.

George Taylor,

the Martin Hotel.

Thanks.

Hey, uh, maybe you oughta

try around the corner.

- What's around the corner?

- Caf. Called the Cellar.

Because it's in a cellar.

Lots of guys get loaded there

and then come over here to sweat it out.

- Maybe you oughta ask there about your pal.

- What time's it open?

How do I know?

When it gets dark.

Thanks. I'll try it.

- Larry Cravat come in yet, honey?

- Larry Cravat?

- I'm sorry. I wouldn't know.

- Thanks anyway.

- Good evening, sir.

- Mr. Cravat's table.

- Mr. Cravat. With a "C" or a "K"?

- "C."

I'm very sorry. Mr. Cravat has

no reservation this evening.

- Well, he might have forgot.

I'll wait for him at the bar.

- Thank you.

Thank you, Mr. Mitchell.

Mr. Mitchell

anybody special?

- He's a customer.

- You must know a lot of customers.

- You must know a lot of names.

- Enough. What'll you have?

You name it.

- Been around here a long time?

- Ever since they took the bars off the door.

Friend of mine used to come in a lot.

Maybe you know him.

Larry Cravat?

I, uh, used to know a Larry Cashman,

but that ain't Cravat.

Well, maybe you could ask around.

Maybe some of the other boys

would know him.

Could be.

I'll, uh, ask around, Mr. -

Taylor. George Taylor.

I'll ask around, Mr. Taylor.

You forgot to knock.

I can explain

if you'll let me.

Out.

Not right now.

- Get out of here.

- I'm sorry.

- Suppose I yell the roof off.

- Then I'd have to stop you.

I bet you'd try,

at that.

You know, I can't make up my mind whether

this is a pitch or you're some kind of a nut.

- But if this is your idea of a

pitch, then I know you're a nut.

- Who owns this place?

- Who wants to know?

- I do.

This and a half a dozen other spots are owned by

a very nice guy named Mel Phillips.

He keeps me working.

Have you got a match?

He must keep

a lot of people working.

All kinds of people.

Sure. Busboys, waiters,

captains, cooks.

Characters that sit around

on barstools waiting for me.

- Is that supposed to make sense?

- What do you think?

In about two minutes, a bouncer is

coming back in here with no sense of humor.

He's a foot bigger than you in all directions.

That's what I think.

"Christy darling,

by the time you get this, I'll be Mrs. Larry Cravat.

Mary."

Thank you.

How terribly gauche of me.

- Not at all.

- Do you happen to know when Larry will be back?

- Larry who?

- Thompson. Larry Thompson.

He's my uncle.

He lives just down the hall.

- Sorry. I don't.

- I couldn't be more fche.

After all, a lady shouldn't have to wait

at all for a gentlemen - even her uncle.

Much less in a public hallway

with no place to sit down...

to wait for Larry.

There's a place to sit down

in my room.

How nice of you

to suggest it.

This is rather exciting.

Unconventional, to say the least.

Haven't you got

a French word for it?

Should we just abandon convention

and introduce ourselves?

- My name's Phyllis.

- Phyllis what?

Oh, I imagine

it's one of those things.

Rich, high-class family

wouldn't want it known...

their daughter waited

around crummy hotel halls.

- Is that it?

- Well, that's putting it a little crudely.

Not too rich

and high-class.

A compact that cost three bucks tops,

a torn hem on your skirt...

a matchfolder that says

you eat at a cheap cafeteria...

and you weren't waiting

for anybody but me.

Unless you can see through a door.

You should have thought of that when I closed it.

So, what goes?

You know, there's been

a terrible shortage of men.

Yeah. So we heard

in the Pacific.

This war must have been

murder on you poor women.

We used to cry

our eyes out about it.

So, when I heard there was

a man in 618-

- You thought he might know where Larry was.

- Yeah.

Only there isn't any Larry. It's just a name

that you made up to start me talking.

- About what?

- Oh, just this and tha. Quelque chose.

Maybe I just thought

you ought to know about me and that...

I ought to know about you.

- Did you have fun?

- I've had more fun drinking a bromo seltzer.

- Hello.

- This is the barkeep at the Cellar.

I got that information you wanted about...

that certain party.

- About Larry Cravat?

- We're closing up now.

You come down here,

I can answer some questions.

- You can answer one right now.

Who told you where to reach me?

- I'll wait for ya.

- Come in the front way.

- Yeah, but I never told you where I...

Taylor.

Somebody wants to see ya.

How do you do,

Mr. Taylor?

Nice of you to come.

Please get in.

Hubert, open the door

for Mr. Taylor.

I didn't come here

to meet you.

True. But I came here

to meet you.

Professor Einstein

to the contrary...

there is just so much time.

Every moment gone

is a moment gone.

Please. Step in.

- Why?

- Get in the car.

The bartender was paid

to call you...

to arrange

this rendezvous.

He has long since gone home to his wife,

his bed and his racing form.

- You and I have much to talk about.

- What, for instance?

Are you being stupid, Mr. Taylor,

or stubborn?

- What, for instance?

- I can't believe you're stupid.

Larry Cravat then,

for instance.

- What about Larry Cravat?

- That was going to be my question to you.

- You tell me.

- Come.

Sit beside me,

and we tell each other.

I'll listen from here.

Not stupid...

but stubborn.

Mr. Taylor, are you ready to tell me

the whereabouts of Larry Cravat?

Then will you tell me...

why you want to know?

I'm just looking for him.

He's my friend.

Larry Cravat has no friends...

and you are to stop looking for him,

Mr. Taylor.

Do you understand?

You are to stop looking for him!

- Take him out of here. Dump him someplace.

- Where, boss?

There was an address

in his pocket.

"723 Gramercy Place."

Take him there.

Okay. Okay. I quit.

Now what?

How does the inside

of your mouth feel?

Like it's full of

raw hamburger.

That's just what

it looked like.

- What did they hit you with?

- Rubber hose.

- I can't figure you out.

- You're not an open book, exactly.

Why did you steal

Mary's picture?

Well, for one thing,

she's married to a man I'm looking for.

She's Mrs. Larry Cravat.

If you even knew Mary,

then what you just said...

is as dirty and rotten

as anything I've ever heard.

I don't know her, but if she's

Mrs. Larry Cravat, I want to.

- You can't.

- I've got to.

Mary was my closest friend.

She was my partner.

I went home one Christmas,

and she wrote to me.

In one letter,

she met Larry Cravat.

In the next,

she was in love with him.

The third had

that picture in it.

I received one more letter

from her after that.

She waited three hours at the city hall,

but he never showed up.

When I came back, she was dead.

An accident.

She didn't look where

she was going when she crossed the street.

She couldn't see.

She had her heart in her eyes.

I'd like to meet

Larry Cravat someday.

Quite a character.

I'd like to meet him too.

So would the boys in the back room.

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