“What?”
“You know Philly Stetz?”
“Uh-huh,” she mumbled. “I work for him when you get down to it.”
“What does Stetz have to do with Beam?”
“Nuthin’ really, not that I know of anyway. Beam gambles an’ stuff. He up at the Black Chantilly a lot.”
“Did Roman work with Beam?”
“I don’t know if he worked with’im. I don’t know that. But they talked a lot.”
“And how about Rupert?”
“What about’im?”
“Who Rupert work for?” I was discovering my destination by asking directions.
“He work for Mr. Stetz, just like me.”
I stared at her, wanting something more but not knowing what it was. Beam knew me. He knew me before I walked into the club. There was only one way I knew of that he could have known; it had to be him, not Rupert, walking down Bonnie’s street away from my car.
It had to be him.
“You got any more questions?” Hannah asked.
When I didn’t answer she got up and went over to Tony and Puddin’.
I sat there thinking for a while, I don’t know how long. But when I looked up again the room was full of people.
I got up and walked over to Hannah and her friends. Mouse was there with them. I guess he was holding them for me.
“Hey, Tony,” I said as if I had forgotten to say something before.
“What?”
“You wanna talk to me a minute?”
“Talk,” he said coolly.
“Why’ont you come over wit’ me to the bar? I’ll get’em to freshen up that whiskey.”
It was the promise of liquor that drew Tony. When the bartender asked him his pleasure he answered, “Manhattan.” It was a sophisticated drink at that time. Tony ordered with a sneer of superior satisfaction.
I waited for him to finish his drink before I said, “Sorry ’bout before, man, but you know Hannah’s boss liked to kill me.”
“Uh-huh,” he grunted, not really accepting the apology.
Mouse was across the room gesturing at Puddin’ and Hannah like a schoolteacher, or a cop.
“Hannah says that you knew Roman Gasteau pretty well,” I said in way of a question.
“Him’n Holly too. So what?”
“What could you tell me about them?”
“Why should I tell you anything?” Tony was still petulant. The whiskey had cooled him down some though.
“Twenty dollars for anything you got to say and another twenty if it sound good t’me.” It was a sentence that I’d said many times in my life.
“What you wanna know?” he asked.
I handed over the first twenty dollars. “What business was Roman into?”
Tony rubbed his hand over his mouth and mumbled something.
“What you said?” I asked.
“White pow-ter.”
“Holland in it with him?”
“He wanted t’be.”
“What’s that mean?”
“Holland come ’round an’ talk like he was workin’ wit’ Romny but it weren’t true. Roman used to just laugh when people would talk about it.”
“You worked wit’ Roman though, right?” I asked.
Tony winced and stuck a finger into his ear. He rubbed his nose and then pulled up his loose trousers by the front belt loops.
He glowered at my chest and I asked my question again.
“I did some little errands,” he whispered. “You know Romny liked people t’do things for’im. But I wasn’t in his business. I only ever saw’im when he’d be at the Black Chantilly an’ I happened t’be ’round. You know usually I’m out back washin’ or carryin’ or sumpin’.”
