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The dinner at Flapjacks had worked out okay for Daisy, for me not so much. Evelyn did come up with a suggestion and there was a revelation about Daisy I would have to discuss with her later,
The Mad Maze gallery had an artist working there that was also a part time bartender at McGinty's speakeasy. I thought was he might have some inside scoop on what was happening lately that might get his boss aced.
The front of place looked like the side of a box car. I went inside and the same treatment was being applied there. An 'artist', whose name I learned later was Rusty Rooster was 'creating' the lobby decor.
I followed the silent flourish of his brush to the gallery office, knocked and entered. A young man in a hat and a mangled ear sat at the cluttered desk. I asked if he was Raven, the owner and he just nodded. I told him I was looking for a guy named Crooked Smile.
He asked my name, made a short phone call and told the top floor. I was exhausted from our conversation.
The top floor was a large open space with canvasses standing all around the walls. Under a huge skylight a guy sat in front of a large painting on an easel.
Turned out he was another chatterbox. Sent me off with the suggestion I talk with the two muffin queens of Busted Gulch and the hint that McGinty was trying to stiff them for more dough in their bootleg agreement.
Except for my sandwich at Evelyn's and gas for my Chevy, the info, such as it was, had been free but I needed walking around cash in case I had to buy some gossip . . . and gas up the car.
I visited Unger 'The Book' my old friend and put the arm on him for a loan. I was cheerfully advised his bank was closed - to me - at the moment. Things weren't falling like I planned; I needed that retainer from Grace.
I had no idea what was going on at the gallery after I left but it seemed a couple of the members, one the artist that was doing the lobby mural and the other the guy that brought in some suspect paintings to sell were hatching some kind of plan the Raven didn't like.
The guy I talked to seemed more occupied with the dog he was painting; I was still keeping an open book on him.
