conscious or dreaming. I vividly remember wondering if I had actually seen Glynis Stonehouse and Godfrey Knurr together.
My brain continued churning all night, and things were no better when I arose early Sunday morning, showered, dressed, and poked disconsolately at a bowl of sodden cornflakes. I simply didn't know what to do. It seemed to me I was in over my head and badly in need of wise counsel,
I hated to bother Percy Stilton, but what I had learned was of such moment that I wanted him to know at once. I dialled the only number I had for him and learned that he wouldn't be in the precinct until Monday morning.
'Couldn't you call him at home and ask him to contact me?' I tried to convey the urgency of the situation to the officer on the other end of the phone.
'Can't anyone else help you?' he asked, still reticent.
'No,' I said firmly. 'It's got to be Stilton. It's really very important, honest, to me and to him.'
Silence.
'A case he's on?' he said finally.
'Yes,' I said, lying valiantly. 'Just call and ask him to call Joshua Bigg. As soon as possible.'
A short silence again, then: 'What was that name — Pigg?'
'Bigg. B-i-g-g. Joshua Bigg. Tell him it's a matter of life and death.'
'I'll tell him that,' the officer said.
I tried to read the Sunday papers. I watched TV for a while, but didn't see it. My phone finally rang shortly before noon.
'Hello?' I said breathlessly.
The voice was low, husky, soothing. 'Mr Bigg?'
'Yes.'
'This is Maybelle Hawks,' she said pleasantly. 'I am Percy Stilton's consenting adult.'
'Yes, ma'am.'
'Mr Bigg, Perce received your message, but he's really in no, ah, condition to speak intelligibly to you at the moment.'
'Is he ill?' I asked anxiously.
'You might say that,' she replied thoughtfully. 'Nothing fatal. I would judge that he will recover, in time. But right now he's somewhat unhinged. It being Sunday morning. I do hope you understand.'
'Yes, ma'am,' I said miserably. 'He's hung over.'
'Oh, Mr Bigg,' she laughed gaily, 'that is the understatement of the year. He's comatose, Mr Bigg.
Com-a-tose. He asked that I return your call and explain why it might be best if you call him at the precinct tomorrow.'
'Miss Hawks,' I said, 'is — '
'Call me Belle,' she said.
'Thank you. Belle, is there no chance of my seeing him today? It really is urgent. I wouldn't be bothering you if it wasn't. Surely Perce, and you too, of course, have to eat sometime today. It would give me great pleasure if you would both join me for dinner some place. Any place.'
'Mr Bigg, you sound to me like a sober, reasonable man.'
'Yes, ma'am,' I said, 'I mean to be.'
'Then you must realize that right now, this second, if I mention food to Percy Stilton, he's likely to give me a shot in the chops.'
'Oh no, ma'am,' I said hastily. 'Not right this minute.
What I was thinking was that later this evening, say around six o'clock, he might be recovered sufficiently, and the both of you might be hungry enough to join me for dinner.'
'Hmm,' she said. 'You're getting through to me, Mr Bigg. All right, I'll see what I can do with the Incredible Hulk here. Where do you want to eat?'
We settled on Woody's at about 6.00 p.m.
I spent the rest of the afternoon leafing through the Sunday papers and then the Stonehouse file once again. I left my apartment at 5.30 and walked to Woody's. It wasn't dark yet, but still I scanned the street before I left the vestibule, and my head was on a swivel during my rapid walk to 23rd Street.
Nitchy greeted me after I had hung my hat and coat on the front rack.
'No princess tonight, Josh?' she said.
'Not tonight, Nitchy,' I said.
'It'll happen,' she said confidently. 'One of these nights you'll waltz through that door with a princess on your arm. You'll see.'
As usual she was looped with bangles, hoops, and amulets. Her black helmet of hair gleamed wickedly, and the heavy eye shadow and precisely painted lips accented her sorceress look. She gave me a table where I could watch the front door.
They weren't very late — not more than fifteen minutes.
The moment Maybelle Hawks entered the restaurant, and the heads of everyone in the front room began to turn, I realized who she was.
She was one of the most famous high-fashion models in Manhattan. Her classic features had adorned dozens of haute couture magazines, she had posed in the nude for many artists and photographers, and a scholarly art critic had written a much quoted monograph on her 'Nefertiti-279
like beauty' and 'ethereal sensuality.' She towered over Stilton, who lurked behind her. I guessed her to be 6–4 or 6–5. She was wearing a supple black leather trenchcoat, mink-lined. It hung open, revealing a loose chemise-styled shift in soft, plum-coloured wool. There was a fine gold chain about the strong stalk of her neck.
I could see why that art critic had thought of Nefertiti.
Her head seemed elongated, drawn out in back so that it had the shape of a tilted egg. Her hair was a cap of tight black curls. Oriental eyes, Semitic lips, a thin scimitar of a nose. All of her features seemed carved, polished, oiled.
Her teeth were unbelievably white.
They made it to my table and sat down. From close range, Percy wasn't looking so good. He was as elegantly clad as the first time I had seen him, but the eyes were sunk deeply and bagged. The whites were reddish and he blinked frequently. There was a sallow tinge to his cordovan skin.
Nitchy asked if we'd like a drink. Belle saw my glass of white wine and said that's what she'd have. Percy raised his bloodshot eyes to Maybelle Hawks.
'Please, babe,' he croaked piteously.
'Nitchy,' Belle said in tones that were more song than speech, 'please bring this basket case a shot of cognac with about a quart of ice water for a chaser.'
'Coming up,' Nitchy said. She looked sympathetically at Perce. 'Got the whim-whams?' she asked.
'Whim-whams?' Belle said with a scoffing laugh. 'This is the guy who swore he could mix grass, martinis, wine, bourbon, and brandy stingers. 'I can handle it,' he said.'
'Belle,' Stilton implored. 'Don't shout.'
When our drinks were served, Perce sat there staring at his brandy. He took a deep breath. Then he bent forward so he had to lift the glass only a few inches to his lips. He took half of it in one gulp. Then he closed his eyes and clenched his teeth.
'Jesus!' he said finally. 'Did you hear that hit?'
280
He took another deep breath, sat back in his chair, drained off his glass of ice water. Nitchy was there with a pitcher to fill it up again.
'Well now,' Percy Stilton said, looking at us with a weak grin. 'This is what I should have done eight hours ago.'
'I wanted you to suffer,' Maybelle Hawks said.
Stilton finished his cognac and handed the empty glass to Nitchy. 'Another plasma, please, nurse,' he said.
