“To you, maybe, nothing. To Stegman, plenty.”
The radioman frowned harder, thinking it over. Then he shook his head. “No,” he said. “If Art wanted to see you, he’d of told you where to find him.”
“Right here,” Parker said.
“For that, all you need is a phone book. No sale.” He went back to his News again.
Parker shook his head angrily, and strode toward the door at the back of the room. Behind him, the radioman jumped up, shouting something, but Parker ignored him. He pushed open the door and walked in.
Six men were sitting around a round table, playing seven-card stud. They looked up, and Parker said, “I’m looking for Stegman.”
A florid-faced guy with his hat jammed far back on his head said, “Who the hell invited you?”
The one in the police uniform said, “Get lost.”
The radioman came in then, and said to the florid-faced guy, “He just won’t take no for an answer.” He reached for Parker. “Come on, bum. Enough is enough.”
Parker knocked away the reaching hand, and brought up his knee. The radioman grunted and rested his brow on Parker’s shoulder. Parker sidestepped, ignoring the radioman, who sagged in a half-crouch against the wall. “I’m still looking for Stegman.”
The one in the police uniform threw down his cards and got to his feet. “That looks to me like assault,” he said.
The florid-faced guy said, “Willy will sign the complaint, Ben. Don’t you worry.”
Another of the players, a tall hard-faced man in a white shirt and no tie, said, “This bird looks to me like the kind resists arrest. What do you think, Ben?”
“Maybe you ought to help me, Sal,” the cop said.
Parker shook his head. “You don’t want to play around. I got a message for Stegman.”
“Hold it,” said the florid-faced guy. Ben and Sal stopped where they were. “What’s the message?”
“You Stegman?”
“I’ll tell him when I see him.”
“Yeah. You’re Stegman, all right. I come to tell you Sidney’s run off.”
Stegman sat forward in his chair. “What?”
“You heard me. He run off with the thousand. He never even went to see the girl.”
“You’re crazy. Sidney wouldn’t dare do — ” He stopped, looked quickly at the other players, and got to his feet. “Deal me out. Come on, you, we’ll talk outside.”
“What about this assault?” the cop, Ben, said.
Stegman made an angry gesture. “The hell with that. Go on back to the game.”
“What if Willy wants to sign a complaint?”
“He don’t. Do you, Willy?”
Willy, upright now, but still ashen faced, said, “No. All I want’s a return bout.”
Stegman shook his head. “On your own time, Willy,” he said. “Come on, you.”
Parker followed him to the front office, where Stegman went behind the railing and took one of the keys from the rack on the wall. “I’m taking the Chrysler, Willy,” he called into the back room. “I’m going down to the beach. Be gone twenty minutes.”
“Twenty minutes. Okay.” Willy came to the door and looked at Parker. “I’m on my own time startin’ six o’clock,” he said.
Parker turned his back and walked out the shack after Stegman. Stegman pointed at a black nine-passenger Chrysler limousine. “We’ll take that. We can’t talk in the office. No privacy. Those guys don’t know nothin’ about this stuff.”
They got into the limousine, and Stegman drove it out around the shack to the street. Looking out the rear window, Parker saw the cop standing in the shack doorway, frowning.
Stegman drove up to the corner of Rockaway Parkway and turned left. “You can start talking any time,” he said.
Parker pointed at the two-way radio under the dashboard. “If you’re not back in twenty minutes, Sparks calls you, is that it?”
“And if I don’t answer,” Stegman answered, “he calls every other car I’ve got. How come you know about Sidney?”
“I was with the girl. Lynn Parker.”
Stegman glanced at him, then back at the traffic. “You know a lot. How come I don’t recognize you?”
“I just got in town. Watch your driving, there’s a lot of kids.”
“I know how to drive.”
“Maybe we better wait till we get to this beach.”
Stegman shrugged.
