`Yeah.' He looked surprised.
`I hear you blow well.'
`Don't flatter me. I ain't no J.C. Higginbotham.'
`And I ain't no Sherlock Holmes. But sooner or later you're going to tell me when you saw Tommy Hillman last. You're not going to sit on your raunchy ole bed and wait for the television to inform you that they found Tommy's body in a ditch.'
`Did they?'
`Not yet. It could happen tonight. When did you see him?'
He drew a deep breath. `Yesterday. He was okay.'
`Did he come here?'
`No sir. He never has. He stopped in at The Barroom Floor yesterday afternoon. He came in the back way and only stayed five minutes.'
`What was he wearing?'
`Slacks and a black sweater. He told me once his mother knitted that sweater for him.'
`Did you talk to him yesterday afternoon?'
`I played him a special riff and he came up and thanked me. That was all. I didn't know he was on the run. Shucks, he even had his girl friend with him.'
'Stella?'
`The other one. The older one.'
`What's her name?'
`He never told me. I only seen her once or twice before that. Tommy knew I wouldn't approve of him squiring her around. She's practically old enough to be his mother.'
`Can you describe her?'
`She's a bottle blonde, with a lot of hair, you know how they're wearing it now.'
He swept his hand up from his wrinkled forehead. `Blue eyes, with a lot of eye shadow. It's hard to tell what she looks like under all that makeup.'
I got out my notebook and made some notes. `What's her background?'
`Show business, maybe. Like I say, I never talked to her. But she has the looks.'
`I gather she's attractive.'
`She appears to be to Tom. I guess she's his first. A lot of young boys start out with an older woman. But,' he added under his breath, `he could do better than that.'
`How old is she?'
`Thirty, anyway. She didn't show me her birth certificate. She dresses younger-skirts up over her knees. She isn't a big girl, and maybe in some lights she can get away with the youth act.'
`What was she wearing yesterday?'
`A dark dress, blue satin or something like that, with sequins on it, a neckline down to here.'
He touched his solar plexus. `It grieved me to see Tom with his arm around her.'
`How did she seem to feel about him?'
`You're asking me more than I can answer. He's a good-looking boy, and she makes a show of affection. But I don't need X-ray eyes to know what is in her mind.'
`Would she be a hustler?'
`Could be.'
`Did you ever see her with any other man?'
`I never did. I only saw her once or twice with Tom.'
`Once, or twice?'
He ruminated. `Twice before yesterday. The first time was two weeks ago yesterday. That was a Sunday, he brought her to our jam session that afternoon. The woman had been drinking and first she wanted to sing and then she wanted to dance. We don't allow dancing at these sessions, you have to pay cabaret tax. Somebody told her that and she got mad and towed the boy away.'
`Who told her not to dance?'
`I disremember. One of the cats sitting around, I guess, they object to dancing. The music we play Sundays isn't to dance to, anyway. It's more to the glory of God,' he said surprisingly.
`What about the second time you saw her?'
He hesitated, thinking. `That was ten nights ago, on a Friday. They came in around midnight and had a sandwich. I drifted by their table, at the break, but Tom didn't introduce me or ask me to sit down. Which was all right with me. They seemed to have things to talk about.'
`Did you overhear any part of their conversation?'
