'For the longest time he came here only by himself. He was by no means a frequent visitor at first. I'd say he first showed up perhaps a year and a half ago. I would see him a couple of times a month, and always alone. Of course I didn't know anything about him at the time. He looked like law, but at the same time he didn't. Do you know what I mean? Maybe it was his clothes. No offense, but he dressed terribly well.'
'Why should I be offended?' He shrugged and moved off to tend to business. While he was gone I tried to figure out whyBroadfield would patronizeSinthia's . The only way it made much sense was that there had been times when he wanted to get out of his apartment but didn't want to run into anybody he knew. A gay bar would have suited his needs perfectly.
When Kenny came back I said, 'You mentioned he showed up here with Portia Carr.When?'
'I can't be positive. He could have brought her here during the summer and I wouldn't have known about it. The first time I saw them together was- three weeks ago? It's hard for me to fix events temporally when I had no idea at the time that they would turn out to be important.'
'Was it before or after you knew who he was?'
'Ah, clever, clever!It was after I knew who he was, so three weeks is probably about right because I became familiar with his name when he first made contact with that investigator, and then I saw his photo in the newspaper, and then he turned up with the Amazon.'
'How many times were they here together?'
'At least twice.Maybe three times.That was all within the space of a week. May I replenish that drink for you?' I shook my head. 'Then I didn't see the two of them again, but I did see her.'
'Alone?'
'Briefly.She came in, sat at a table,ordered a drink.'
'When was this?'
'What's today, Friday? This would have been Tuesday night.'
'And she was killed Wednesday night.'
'Well, don't look at me, lover. I didn't do it.'
'I'll take your word for it.' I remembered the dimes I had dropped into various phones Tuesday night, calling Portia Carr's number and getting her answering machine. And she had been here then.
'Why did she come here, Kenny?'
'To meet someone.'
'Broadfield?'
'That's what I assumed, but the man who ultimately met her was a far cry indeed fromBroadfield . It was hard to believe they were both members of the same species.'
'And he was the one she was waiting for?'
'Oh, absolutely.He walked in looking for her, and she had been looking up every time the door opened.' He scratched his head for a moment. 'I don't know if she knew him or not. By sight, I mean. I have a vague feeling that she didn't, but I'm just guessing. This wasn't long ago, Matt, but I didn't really pay too much attention.'
'How long were they together?'
'They were together here for perhaps half an hour.Maybe a little longer than that. Then they left together, so they may have spent hours on end in one another's company. They didn't see fit to take me into their confidence.'
'And you don't know who the guy was.'
'Never saw him before or since.'
'What did he look like, Kenny?'
'Well, he didn't look like much, I'll tell you that. But you want a description rather than a critique, I would suppose. Let me just think.'
He closed his eyes, drummed his fingers on thebartop . Without opening his eyes he said, 'A small person, Matt. Short, slender.Hollow cheeks.A great deal of forehead and an appalling absence of chin.Wore a rather tentative beard to conceal the lack of chin. No mustache. Heavy horn-rimmed glasses, so I didn't see his eyes and couldn't really swear that he had any, although I would guess that he did, as most people generally do. A left one and a right one, conventionally, although now and then- is something wrong?'
'Nothing's wrong, Ken.'
'Do you know him?'
'Yeah.I know him.'
I left Kenny's shortly after that. Then there's a stretch of time I don't remember clearly. I probably hit a bar or two. Eventually I found myself in the vestibule of JerryBroadfield's building onBarrow Street .
I don't know what led me there or why I thought I ought to be there. But it must have made some sort of sense to me at the time.
A strip of celluloid popped the inner lock, and did the same job on the door to his apartment. Once inside his apartment, I locked the door and went around turning on lights, making myself at home. I found the bottle of bourbon and poured myself a drink, got a beer from the refrigerator for a chaser. I sat sipping bourbon and chasing it with beer.
After a little while I turned on the radio and found a station that played unobtrusive music.
After some more bourbon and some more beer I took off my suit and hung it neatly in his closet. I got out of the rest of my clothes and found a pair of his pajamas in the bureau drawer. I put them on. I had to turn up the
