He looked surprised and shook his head.
“It’s important,” I said.
“No it’s not.”
That’s what I’d been trying to remember: the curious monthly check.
“It don’t have nothin’ to do with any of this.” He was whispering too.
“I think it does. Ellie isn’t your daughter.”
“Who told you that?”
I nodded to the machine.
He whispered again, “Who told you that?”
“I figured it out. Now I need to know where your check comes from.”
He looked as if he was considering telling me when Cliffie came back in.
“You didn’t try ‘n’ erase that machine, did you?”
“Cliffie, I wouldn’t try and erase the machine. I’d try and erase the tape.”
“You goddamned college boys.”
“Yeah, we’re taking over the world.”
“Shut up, now. We’re going back to the questions.”
Another thrilling half hour. Cliffie’d verbally lunge at Chalmers and I’d object; Cliffie’d lunge again, I’d object again. It was a dull little legal dance.
“You’re gonna need a lawyer, bub.”
“I got a lawyer,” Chalmers said.
“I mean a real one.”
“This is the comedy part of his act,” I said.
A knock at the door. A cop leaned in.
“The mayor says he needs to talk to you, Chief.”
“He say about what?”
“He never does, Chief.”
Cliffie sighed. “I finally start gettin’ somewhere with this killer I got here and the mayor calls.”
“Life’s tough,” I said, “when you’re a celebrity.”
“Someday I’ll celebrity you, McCain,”
Cliffie said, standing up, which is no easy task when you weigh what he does. “And don’t try and erase that”-he caught himself in time-? tape, either.”
“I’m proud of you, Cliffie.”
Another exchange of scowls and Cliffie was gone.
I started whispering again. “Who sends you the checks every month?”
“I don’t know. They’re just in my mailbox.” He looked angry. “It doesn’t have anything to do with these murders. You know what would happen to that kid if this town ever figured out who her real old man was?”
“Believe it or not, I think she’d like to know for herself. I think she could put up with anyone who made fun of her. And anyway, you’re underestimating people here. They’d be good to her. They’d understand.”
“I know a few who wouldn’t.”
“A few. But not many.”
He sighed and started to raise his hands to wipe his face. He’d forgotten about the handcuffs. “These damned things.”
“Tell me before Cliffie comes back,” I whispered. “Who sends you the checks?”
Footsteps in the hall. Cliffie’s steps, thunderous. Door being flung open.
And then, in that millisecond, Chalmers leaned close and told me.
Seventeen
For all the mixed reviews the Edsel had been getting, there sure were a lot of gawkers when I got over to Dick Keys’s that afternoon: farmers and townspeople alike, the farmers still raw red from summer sun, the townspeople wearing the kind of tans you only get on beaches.
Three salesmen were giving the same spiel at once, each a few sentences behind the other. They sounded like a ragged chorus.
I spent a few minutes looking one over, a convertible with enough horsepower to outrun any car the highway patrol put down on the pavement. The gadgetry got me. If I ever bought a new car, I’d want a Corvette or a
Thunderbird, stripped and ready for action. The interior control panel of the Edsel, with all its chrome gimmicks, was sort of comic.
“Dick around?” I asked one of the mechanics.
The guy streaked his white coverall with greasy fingers, yanked out a Cavalier, and torched a Zippo. In the middle of exhaling and coughing, he said, “He’ll be right back. He ran over to Uptown Auto to get Gil a new part.” He shook his head. “Best boss I ever had, except for the Navy. He ain’t afraid to pitch in, you know what I mean? Somethin’ needs to be done, he don’t care if he’s boss or not, he’ll do it.”
I went in the waiting room and read an ancient Tv Guide. There was an article on James Arness of Gunsmoke and how he’d played the monster in The Thing, and how this new guy Ernie Kovacs was ushering in a new era of “hip” Tv, and then a piece on the family life of Lucy and Desi and how they really were just as lovey- dovey as they appeared on the air.
I was trying not to think about what I’d come here for.
Dick Keys was one of the town’s best. He’d been around since before I was born, hawking cars and boosting the town. He was a decent guy.
He came in and said, “Rick said you were looking for me, Sam. How about you wait in my office?
You want some coffee?”
“I thought maybe you’d take me for a ride.”
“A ride? You serious?”
“Sure. Try out the Edsel.”
He looked at me. “You? In an Edsel?
C’mon. You can’t shit a shitter.”
“I just want to talk a little, Dick.”
“Talk?”
He watched me carefully, as if I were holding something secret and suspicious behind my back.
“Yeah. Just a little talk is all.”
He hesitated, then shrugged. “Talk.
Sure. Why not? Well, you go pick out the beast you wanna ride in and I’ll meet you on the lot.”
“Appreciate it.”
He started to leave the reception area and then stopped. “I heard Cliff found Chalmers.”
“Yeah.”
“Arrested him and charged him, huh?”
“That’s the story.”
“A lot of people are going to breathe easier now.”
“I sure will,” I said.
He smiled. “I still can’t see you in an Edsel, Sam.”
I picked out a lemon-and-lime one.
Two-door. Not only could you make love on the seats, you could raise a family inside the plush confines of the thing.
Keys saw me and waved. He disappeared back inside, returning moments later with a pair of keys.
When he got in the driver’s seat, he said, “Believe it or not, they’re starting to sell.
Got a call from my buddy over in Des Moines. He said that on Saturday people acted kind’ve funny around
