Carmella Commands
As they drove down Doty Street, Carmella pointed casually to the house of Mike Laudini.
“Know who lives there?” she asked.
“Not a hint,” answered Dixon.
“Mike Laudini, your boss’s bootlegger.”
Dixon almost drove the machine into the curbing as he turned to look.
“How do you know he is?”
“How do I know? He told me himself,” said Carmella, lying cheerfully. “And I’ll let you know that your boss is a ve-ery particular customer. Didn’t you ever drive there, nights?”
“Mike delivers,” said Dixon.
“Sure he delivers. And sometimes slips you a pint of drug-store stuff, I’ll bet.”
“Say, kid!” exclaimed Dixon, “where’d you learn all this society gossip?”
Carmella laughed joyously.
“Just because you live over on the boulevard don’t think we ain’t wise to you. Get me?”
“I reckon I get you all right,” said Dixon, stepping on the accelerator.
He intended to drive the rest of the way in silence. But Carmella’s plan was otherwise.
“Don’t you adore to drive?” she asked presently.
“Just the same way you adore to go to school, I reckon,” he said. “It’s my job, that’s all.”
“Gee!” said Carmella. “That’s funny. I’d love it.”
“They tell me before traffic got the way it is there
[77]
