'Well, actually,' I said, 'I was a client.'
Perhaps I imagined it, but I thought her smile froze and became a grimace, wet lips stretched to reveal teeth too perfect to be her own.
'A client?' she repeated. 'Well, he didn't have many of those.'
She started to turn away, and I went on with a rush, fearing to lose her.
'Mrs Reape,' I said hurriedly, 'I went up to your husband's office, but everything's been — '
'Yeah,' she said casually, 'I cleaned the place out. He had a bunch of junk there, but I got a couple of bucks from the ragpicker.'
'What about his records?' I asked. 'The files? He had some important paper of mine.'
'No kidding?' she said, her eyes widening. 'Jeez, I'm real sorry about that. I threw all that stuff out in the gobbidge last night.'
'Then it might be in the garbage cans in front of your house?' I said helpfully.
'Nah,' she said, not looking at me. 'They collected early this morning. All that paper's in the city insinuator by now.'
'Do you remember, if — '
But then I was shouldered out of the way.
I left my stein on a table and slipped away from The Dirty Shame as inconspicuously as I could.
I put in a call to the office. Yetta Apatoff said no one had been looking for me.
'Josh, did you see that sweater I happened to mention to you?' she inquired.
I told her I had seen it and thought it lovely.
'It's so revealing,' she said, giggling. 'I mean, it doesn't leave anything to the imagination.'
'Oh, I wouldn't say that,' I said. 'Exactly. Listen. Yetta, I won't be in until after lunch in case anyone wants me.
Okay?'
'Sure, Josh,' she said. 'And green's really my colour — don't you think?'
I finally got off the phone.
I arrived on West 74th Street with time to spare. I took up my station across the street from the office of Dr Morris Stolowitz and down the block towards Columbus Avenue. The redheaded receptionist came out a few minutes after noon. I scurried across the street and walked directly towards her.
I lifted my head with a start of surprise. Then I stopped.
I tipped my hat.
'We meet again,' I said, smiling.
She stopped, too, and looked down at me.
'Why, it's Mr Bigg,' she said. 'Listen, I hope you weren't insulted this morning. You know, when I asked you a personal question?'
'I wasn't insulted,' I assured her. 'People are always commenting on my size. In a way, it's an advantage; they never forget my name.'
'Mine neither,' she said. 'Not that my name is so great.
People are always making jokes about it.'
'What is your name?'
'Peacock, Ardis Peacock.'
'Ardis Peacock? Why, that's a lovely name. The peacock is a beautiful bird.'
'Yeah,' she said, 'with a big tail. You live around here?'
'No, just taking care of business. I'm getting hungry and thought I'd grab something to eat. Any good places in the neighbourhood?'
'Lots of them,' she said. 'There's a McDonald's on 71st Street and Amsterdam, and a Bagel Nosh on the east side of Broadway. But I usually go around the corner to Columbus Avenue. There's all kinds of restaurants there — Mexican, Indian, Chinese, whatever.'
'Sounds good,' I said. 'Mind if I walk along with you?'
'Be my guest,' she said.
We started back towards Columbus.
'Ever think of getting elevator shoes?' she asked me.
'Oh, I've thought of it, but they'd only give me another inch or so. Not enough to make a real difference. What I need is stilts.'
'Yeah,' she said, 'it's a shame. I mean, here I am a long drink of water, and I think it's a drag. You should be taller and I should be shorter. But what the hell.'
'You carry it well,' I told her. 'You've got good posture, and you're slender. Like a model.'
'Yeah?' she said, pleased. 'No kidding?'
We ate at the Cherry Restaurant on Columbus Avenue, between 75th and 76th streets. Ardis ordered shrimp with lobster sauce. I had ham and scrambled eggs with home fries.
'That boss of yours gave me a hard time this morning,' I said casually.
'Don't let it get you down,' she advised. 'He gives everyone a hard time. Me, especially. Sometimes I think he's got the hots for me.'
'Shows he's got more sense than I thought,' I said.
'Hey, hey! ' she said. She turned and pushed me playfully. Almost off the stool.
'What was it all about?' she asked. 'That Stonehouse guy you mentioned on the phone?'
'That's the one,' I said. 'He was seeing Dr Stolowitz in October and November of last year. Remember him?'
'Do I ever!' she said. 'What a crab. Always complaining about something. He had to wait, or the office was too cold, or the Doc's cigars were stinking up the place. He was a real pain in the you know where.'
'Stolowitz should be happy he wasn't sued,' I said. 'This Stonehouse is always suing someone.'
'Is he suing you?'
'Not me personally,' I said, 'but maybe the outfit I work for.' Then I launched into the scenario I had contrived.
105
'I'm an investigator with the claims division of a health insurance company. Isley Insurance. Ever hear of us?'
'No,' she said, 'can't say that I have.'
'It's a small outfit,' I admitted. 'We specialize in health coverage for the faculties of educational institutions. You know: schools, colleges, universities — like that. Group policies. Well, this Stonehouse used to teach at New York University. He's retired now, but he's still covered because he pays the premiums personally. You follow?'
'Oh sure,' she said. 'I make out all the Medicare forms for Stolowitz. It's a pain in the you know what.'
'I agree,' I said. 'Well, you know when you fill out those forms, you have to state the nature of the illness — right?'
'Of course,' she said. 'Always.'
'Well, this Stonehouse refuses to state what was wrong with him. He says it's his own business, and asking him to reveal it is an invasion of his privacy.'
'He's whacko!' she burst out.
'Absolutely,' I said. 'No doubt about it. He refused to tell Medicare and they rejected his claim. Now he's suing them.'
'Suing Medicare?' she said, aghast. 'That's the US
Government!'
'Correct,' I said. 'And that's who he's suing. Can you believe it?'
'Unreal,' she said.
'Anyway, he also made a claim against my company, Isley Insurance. But he won't tell us what his illness was either. So naturally his claim was rejected, and now he's suing us. We'll fight it, of course, but it'll drag out and cost a lot of money. For lawyers and all. So we'd rather settle with him. How about some dessert?'
'Chocolate sundae,' she said promptly.
I had another cup of coffee, and after she demolished her sundae, I lighted her cigarette. I always carry
