'I didn't care. That was our arrangement.'
I felt almost a cruel desire to shock her, to instill some feeling into her beauty. 'Talbert is dead. He was murdered.'
Immediately I regretted the bluntness of my words, but I honestly didn't know if I'd reached her or not. She lowered her head so I couldn't see her eyes, and a tightness crept into her features. Then she raised her head and looked directly at me. 'No kidding!'
'Any idea who killed him?' I asked.
'None. He must have been mistaken for somebody else.'
I ordered us each another drink. 'Did you know any of his friends?'
She shook her head no. 'It was just me and Vic.'
'Did he ever mention Joan Clark?'
'Not that I can recall.'
'What about the name Congram?'
Something like recognition came into her eyes. 'That's.right, yeah. Vic knew somebody named Con-gram; really thought he was important, from what I gathered. But he only mentioned the name a few times. I didn't pry.' She drained half of her fresh drink. 'Dead, huh?' I wasn't sure, but I thought her eyes glistened with more than their usual moisture. Or the light might have done her a favor.
The band, which had been taking a break since Belle Dee's dance, blasted out with another discordant specialty.
'They're lousy,' Belle Dee said, 'but lousy with a beat. Listen, I've got some of Vic's stuff at my apartment. What am I gonna do with it?'
I swirled the ice in my glass to appear disinterested. 'What kind of stuff?'
'Clothes, mostly. Just stuff he left there.'
'Mind letting me look it over?'
'I don't know if I should.'
'I'll bet you do a lot you shouldn't.'
She laughed her blues laugh. 'You're right; it doesn't make any difference to me. I can let you look at the stuff when I get off at midnight.' She finished her drink and stood, attracting eyes. 'I gotta get back to work.'
I told her I'd see her at twelve.
She smiled and turned toward the crowded dance floor, disappearing in a blast of flashing blue light and drums.
I made my drink last another twenty minutes and left.
The hours remaining before it was time to meet Belle Dee I spent in my motel room, lying on my back in bed and trying to figure out where events were taking me.
How was it going to set with the law when they found out I'd withheld the information that Branly was actually Victor Talbert, that I'd gone through some of his effects? I knew that eventually it would all have to come out; I didn't think even Carlon could keep that from happening. I hoped he could; I hoped I wasn't being cynical enough.
I thought about Belle Dee and then Lornee. The coldness grew in my stomach, and blood pulsed in my ears. I concentrated on the fifty thousand dollars.
At ten thirty I phoned Dale Carlon and filled him in on my activities, and I asked him if he could smooth the way for me to talk to someone at First Security Trust about Talbert's loan application. Carlon told me he'd see what he could do and then call me in the morning.
It was almost twelve thirty when Belle Dee fished a glittering jeweled key ring from her purse and let us into her apartment on Lam pan Street.
We were in a small living room, furnished glass-topped and chrome modern. A jaggedly designed tapestry hung on one wall above a long black-vinyl sofa that couldn't have been more than six inches off the floor. Beneath the clear glass top of a coffee table before the sofa was a plastic flower arrangement.
Belle Dee tossed her purse onto a chair and went into the kitchen. She returned in less than a minute with two glasses containing generous measures of bourbon on the rocks and held out one of the drinks for me. I accepted that and her offer to sit on the low black couch.
'Vic's things are in the other room,' she said. 'I'll be right back.'
I sat and watched her walk into what I assumed was the bedroom. The low sofa was more comfortable than it looked, and there was a pleasant, faintly perfumed quietness about the apartment that was relaxing.
Belle Dee returned carrying some folded clothes, an attache case and a pair of shiny black wing-tip shoes. 'This is all Vic left, Mr… Nudger?'
'Call me Alo.'
'That sounds foreign.'
'Sometimes I think it is.'
She handed Talbert's possessions down to me then sat next to me on the sofa while I examined them. I was disappointed to find that the attache case, a metal-trimmed, expensive model, was empty but for a black knit tie. The clothing promised little more-a wrinkled pair of slacks, neatly folded undershirt and a white windbreaker. The pants pockets were empty, but when I felt inside the jacket pockets my fingers touched a thin, stiff rectangle of cardboard. I withdrew my hand without it, set the folded clothes aside and finished my drink.
'Mind?' I asked, holding out the glass.
Belle Dee checked her own near-empty glass. 'I could use a refill myself.'
When she'd disappeared into the kitchen, I drew the business card from the jacket pocket and examined it before slipping it into my own pocket. It was a plain white card engraved only with GRATUITY insurance. No address, no phone number. On the back of the card a name was penciled in angled, hasty print: Robert Manners. Another Victor Talbert AKA?
Belle Dee returned with the drinks and sat next to me again on the sofa. 'Did anything of Vic's help?'
'Hard to say. It was worth a look.'
'You can take it all with you if you'd like.'
'I'd keep it if I were you. Eventually the police might want it.'
She made an expression as if she hadn't thought of that and raised her glass to her lips. There was a softness in her eyes, maybe from the bourbon, and I fancied I could feel the heat from the closeness of her lushly perfect body.
'Ever get tired of living alone?' I asked.
'Everybody does sometimes.'
I reached out and traced the line of her pale cheek with the backs of my fingers. She drew away, more with the change in her eyes than any motion of her head.
'I'm not lonely tonight,' she said, 'only sometimes.' A smile to show me she regarded the effort as a compliment.
I returned the smile with a futile one of my own and stood.
'Thanks for showing me Talbert's effects,' I told her. I let her know where I was staying and asked her to contact me if anything else about Talbert came to mind.
'If you have any more questions,' Belle Dee said, 'come around to the club.'
We both knew the answer to the current question was no, so I said good-night and left.
13
The jangling telephone by my bed yanked me out of sleep at nine the next morning.
It was Carlon, as promised. He told me that arranging for me to get what information I needed from First Security Trust had been difficult, but that he'd managed it. The bank was one of an affiliation of Midwestern banks with which three of the Carlon plants did business. He told me to ask for a man named Tom McGregor, the loan officer who'd processed Talbert's application.
I thanked Carlon and asked him if he'd heard of Gratuity Insurance. He hadn't. And he said the name Robert
