True Detective

I think Nitti had put the fix in, too; I was starting to be glad he and I'd had that little talk. Both he and

Cermak had made the inquest easy for me.

So it was cut-and-dried. But it didn't start till ten-thirty, and with all those witnesses, it dragged on. and I missed a lunch date with Janey. I caught her in the office at the county treasurer's at City Hall by phone, about two. and apologized for standing her up.

'Did it come out okay?' she said. There was just the slightest edge of irritation in her voice. 'The inquest?'

'Yeah. I came out smelling like a rose. So why do I feel like I need a shower?'

'There's a shower at my place.' she said, sounding friendlier.

'Yeah. I remember.'

Janey, incidentally, was a lovely girl of twenty-five years and 125 well-placed pounds; with darkish blond hair worn short and wavy, and dark brown eyes highlighted by lona. standing-at-attention lashes. She was smart as she was beautiful, and she let me sleep with her once a week or so, as soon as I started talking marriage. We'd been talking marriage for almost three years now. and I'd given her a little diamond last year. I only had one problem with Janey: I wasn't sure if what I felt for her was love, exactly. I also wasn't sure if it mattered.

'I'll make lunch up to you,' I said.

'I know you will.' she said, like a threat.

'How about tonight? I'll take you someplace expensive.'

'I'm working late tonight. You can come out to my place if you want. About nine-thirty. I'll fix sandwiches.'

'Okay. And tomorrow night, we'll take in the Bismarck dining room.'

'I'd settle for the Berghoff- that's expensive enough.'

'We'll do the Bismarck. It's a special night. I have something special to tell you.'

Real special: I hadn't broken it to her yet that I'd quit the department.

'I already know, Nate.' she said.

'What?'

'It was in the papers today. Just a little footnote to one of the follow-up articles on the shooting. That officer Nathan Heller had resigned to pursue a career in private business.'

'I, uh- I wanted to tell you about it myself.'

'You can, tonight. I'm not crazy about you quitting the department, but if your uncle Louis has offered you a position, I think that's fine.'

Janey was like that: jumping to conclusions based upon her own desires.

'Yeah, well, let's talk about it tonight,' I said.

'Good. I love you, Nate.'

She didn't whisper it, which meant she was in the office alone.

'Love you, Janey.'

That afternoon I moved out of the Adams and into the office in Barney's building. Barney had moved fast: a big brown box was against the right wall as you came in, next to the closet door. The box was a Murphy bed; he'd even got sheets and blankets for me, which were in a drawer at the bottom of the box, under where the bed fell down out of it when you pulled the latch, which I did. It was a double bed, no less; Barney was being optimistic for me. I stretched out on the bare mattress. It wasn't as comfy as Janey's bed, but it beat the hell out of what I had at the Adams. I studied where some paint was starting to peel on the ceiling, for a while, then got up; put the bed back up and in.

The closet was hardly spacious, but it was roomy enough for my three suits. And I had a box of books and other personal junk, which I slid onto the shelf at the top of the closet; it just fit. My suitcase went on the floor in there; I figured to live out of the suitcase, till I got some kind of dresser or something.

Which presented a problem: How could I make this place look like an office and not a place I lived in? I didn't think that would impress prospective clients much: an office with a dresser and a Murphy bed in it, an office that was obviously where this poverty-stricken private dick was forced to live. It wouldn't inspire confidence.

Well, the Murphy bed I couldn't do anything about; but I could get around the dresser. I'd get ahold of a couple filing cabinets, or maybe one big multi-drawer one. and file my clothes and such in the bottom drawers. And speaking of bottom drawers. I could then file my underwear under U, I supposed. I smiled to myself, shook my head; this was ridiculous. What was I thinking of. giving up the cops and a life of crime for this? I was sitting on the edge of the desk, laughing silently at myself, when I noticed the phone.

A black, candlestick phone with a brand-new Chicago phone book next to it. My flat-nosed Jewish mother, Barney Ross, did work fast. Bless him.

So I sat behind the desk and I tried it out. I called my uncle Louis at the Dawes Bank. He and I weren't particularly close, but we kept in touch, and I hadn't talked to him since this mess began, and I thought I should. I also thought he might be able to get me a couple file cabinets wholesale.

I had to go through three secretaries to get him, but I got him.

'Are you all right, Nate?' he said. He sounded genuinely worried. But this was Wednesday, and the shooting was Monday, and I didn't exactly remember Uncle Louis calling on me at the Adams to express his concern.

'I'm fine. They had an inquest today, and I'm completely in the clear.'

'As well you should be. You deserve a medal for shooting those hoodlums.'