“She’d work by telephone,” he said. “She wouldn’t be a loner, she’d be connected with the organization.”
She shook her head. “Then I wouldn’t know her.”
Parker emptied the glass, motioned at the bartender for another round. “You’d know people who might know her,” he said.
“I might and I might not.” The round came and she said, “Thanks. Why should I tell you anything? I don’t know you from Adam.”
He looked at her. “Do I look like law?”
She laughed. “Not much. That’s one thing you’re not. But maybe you want to give her a bad time. Maybe she gave you athlete’s foot once or something.”
“I’m her brother,” Parker lied. “We been out of touch. The doctor tells me I got a little cancer in my throat. I want to look her up, you know how it is. It’s my last chance.”
She looked shocked and mournful. “Jeez,” she said. “That’s a bitch, man. I’m sorry.”
Parker shrugged. “I had a good life. I got maybe six months to go. So I thought I’d look her up. There’s just her and this aunt of ours, and I wouldn’t look the aunt up if she had a cancer cure.”
“Jeez,” she said again. Meditations on mortality creased her brow. “I know how you feel, man,” she said. “You maybe don’t think so, but I do. In this lousy business, you got to be thinking about disease all the time. There was this girl I knew, we used to room together. She didn’t feel so good, and it hurt to swallow, and sometimes she’d spit blood, so she thought it was TB. I told her and told her, go down to the clinic, so finally she did, and they put her in the hospital. She had a little something in the back of her throat too. Not cancer. The occupational disease, you know?”
Parker nodded. He couldn’t care less, but if he let her talk about this maybe she’d talk about the other.
“She’s still in there,” she said. “I went to see her once, and it was awful. She looked like an old bag, you know? And she couldn’t even talk any more, just croak. That was about six months ago, I went to see her. And that was enough for me, brother, I didn’t go back since. For all I know, she’s dead by now.
She’d be better off.” Then she caught herself, and went wide-eyed, clapping a hand over her mouth.
“That’s okay,” Parker said. “I know what you mean. Me, I fir, ure I’m not going to stick around for that part. When it gets kid bad, I slit this vein here.” He turned his hand over, showing the wrist. “See? That blue one there.”
She shivered. “Don’t talk that way, will you, baby? You get me all depressed.”
“Sorry.” Parker swallowed half his beer. “About my sister,” he said.
“What’s her name? You never know, I might know her.”
“The last I heard, she was calling herself Rose Leigh.”
She thought, brows furrowing in the wrong places. Shaking her head, she said, “No, I don’t think so. For a minute it sounded kind of familiar, but I guess not.”
“It’s from the old song,” he said. “Rosalie, my darling, Rosalie, my love — That’s why it sounds familiar.”
“That must be it. Listen, Bernie might know her.”
“Bernie?”
“The barman. They sometimes take calls in here.” She raised a hand. “Hey, Bernie!”
He came down along the boards behind the bar, expressionless. “Another round?”
“In a minute,” she said. She leaned over the bar toward him, urgent and intent. “Listen, Bernie, do you know a hustler named Rose Leigh? Like the song?”
“Rose?” He shrugged. “Not to look at, no. She never come in here at all. But I know the name, yeah. From the phone.”
“This is her brother,” she said, stabbing a purple-nailed thumb at Parker. “He’s looking for her.”
Bernie studied Parker dispassionately. “To take her home?”
Parker shook his head. “We been out of touch. I want to look her up is all.”
“He’s sick,” she said, in a loud stage whisper. “He wants to see his sister again, you know?”
Bernie wasn’t a sentimentalist. He said, “So what do you want from me?”
“Where does he find her?”
“How should I know? I know the name only from the phone.”
“Where do I find somebody who knows where she is?” Parker asked him.
Bernie thought it over. “I don’t know you, buddy,” he said at last. “I wouldn’t want to tell you something I shouldn’t.”
She opened her big mouth again. “Maybe you could call to somebody to tell her her brother’s in town.”
Bernie liked that. “Yeah,” he said. “That I can do for you.”
“Have them tell her it’s Parker. That way she’ll know it’s really me.”
Bernie nodded. He went away and she said, “You came to the right place, mister. Bernie can help you out.”
“I came where the hustlers were,” he said.
