He smiled at me, and that made me nervous. He did know something, I was sure of it.
'Okay, you call me from the airport, that means you're going someplace.
So Dave and me, we listen to the tape-yeah, we tape everything. We listen and figure out you're calling from La Guardia. So we check on what flights are going out of there around the time of your call, we get the passenger lists, and, lo and behold, we find your name on a flight to Miami.' He smiled again.
'Shakes you up a little, doesn't it?'
'A little,' I agreed.
'So we make some calls, check around Miami, hotels and stuff. And car rental companies. Don't want to forget those.'
I didn't say anything.
'Seems there's this fella, Geoffrey Barnett, he's rented this nice little Toyota Corolla. Guy rents a car, guy returns a car. When he returns it to the airport we start checking on flights again. And guess what? We find his name, this time on a flight to Dallas with a connection to Albuquerque. So, using deduction, we're more or less sure the little honey pot's in either Florida or New Mexico. Maybe she's back here now. Not a bad suppose, since you're here and you follow the honey. Course, we can check with the airlines, run her name through their computers. Or you can tell me now and save me the time.
I knew Kim had used an assumed name on the plane, but still there was a moment there when I thought about telling Scotto the truth. We'd have to forget the blackmail, we wouldn't get rich, but maybe we'd see some justice. It might even feel good to go on to the law-andorder side.
But the thing had taken on a life of its own. Kim wanted the money, Frank needed it, and I'd brought him in. It would be hard to let them down.
There was something else too: my fascination with the game, which is the way I'd begun to think of it. A three-cornered game, with three teams of players: Kim, Frank and me;
Darling and Mrs. Z; and Ramos and Scotto. The object of the game was to outsmart the other two teams and carry home the loot. And the prospect of doing that, the anticipated high if we won, was, I was beginning to understand, as important as the actual winnings.
I think something had changed in me those last few weeks. I think I gave up my gloomy view. And the possibility that we might really force something out of those monsters had become a lot more exciting than any photograph I could visualize.
I was also, I discovered, as I talked to Sal, finding it easier to lie.
'Okay,' I told him, 'you're a good detective. I never thought you weren't. I'm going to tell you something now so you don't waste your time. Kimberly's not in New York. As for where I went, yes, I was in Florida and New Mexico, and the reason was to take pictures-which happens to be my profession. As for Shadow, you say you located Mrs. Z.
In my opinion that's the place to look. I'll tell you another thing.
There was a Swedish girl named Sonya who also worked for Mrs. Z, a friend of Kim's and Shadow's. I never met her, but I hear she disappeared and there're people who think she was killed by someone close to Mrs. Z.'
Scotto had been writing in his notebook the entire time.
'That it?' he asked when I finished.
'One more thing, and I swear to you it's all I know. there're some fancy people who live in Soho, a painter named Duquayne and his rich-bitch wife. I think they know something. Before I left I tried to talk to them. they threw me out. Maybe you and Ramos'll have better luck. '
Scotto put down his notebook. Then he stood.
'Okay,' he said, 'you've told me a couple of things, maybe helpful, maybe not. I think you've been straight with me. If I ever find out you're not, I'm going to sic Dave onto you, Geof. And with Dave there's no mercy. None.'
After he left I thought about his threat: he'd turn me over to Dave;
Dave would have me designated a material witness. It didn't sound all that bad, More like passing the buck.
Meantime, I thought, I'd tied some good knots. Tomorrow Sal would pressure Mrs. Z, which, added to the pressure Kim was putting on her tonight, should propel her into a state of panic. And if the Du(juaynes could be made to panic too, then Darling would soon feel the force of our attack.
An hour after Sal left, I slipped out of my loft. At first I thought about leaving my lights on, in case his lookout was still around. But it occurred to me it would look more natural if I turned them off-it was getting late, time for the itinerant photographer to go to bed.
Once outside I strode swiftly toward Broadway, hailed a cab, and asked the driver to drop me at Forty- second and Eighth, It was 1:30 in the morning, but it could just as easily have been noon-the action at that sleazy intersection was still that heavy and fast. The tang of pot, sweat and cheap perfume hung upon the air. There were throngs of tourists, camera-toting Japanese, assorted teenagers, beboppers and a man, dressed in a horned helmet like a Viking-, regaling the crowd on the subject of fleshly sin. Pimps, prostitutes and drug dealers cruised, and a mad shopping-bag lady, with bulging eyes, shouted a string of mindless obscenities to the wind.
As I walked toward Seventh I ran a gauntlet:
'Going out?' a girl asked.
'Date?' asked another.
'Smoke? Coke?'
'Smack? Crack?'
'Grass? Ass?'
'Love for sale,' I heard a throaty voice whisper in my ear.
I merged into the crowd on Seventh, paused before a three-card monte dealer, then looked back to see if I was being followed. There was no one lingering, so I walked back to the corner, then quickly descended the subway stairs. I bought a token, passed through the turnstile, found a pay phone and dialed the hotel.
'Mrs. Lynch? This is Mr. Lynch,'
'Geoffrey! I've been worried. I was afraid to call the loft.'
I told her about Scotto and the hints I'd dropped. She especially liked my insinuation about the Duquaynes.
' I, meantime, have spoken with Mrs. Z,' she said.
'It got pretty hairy there for a while. I told her the photos were back in play and she'd better get the money and pay up. I told her Rakoubian had taken the pictures, then had tried to pin them on you. I told her you were in the thing now, you and I were partners, that someone had tried to burn out your eyes, you didn't like that, and next time any lye was thrown, you'd be doing the throwing. I told her if she didn't think you had the balls, she should check you out with Rakoubian.'
'Jesus!'
'Yeah, I really hit on her. She stayed quiet the whole time. I told her she may have thought the business was finished but as far as I was concerned it had just begun. I didn't give her time to answer. Just told her she and Darling had forty-eight hours to make up their minds.
She thought little Kimberly was out of her life. Now here I am, back again, talking like a bad-ass too.' She paused.
'I'm feeling good, Geoffrey. Real good. Why don't you come on up and see old horny Mrs. Lynch?'
'Nothing I'd rather do,' I said.
'I have to call Frank first.
'I'll be waiting,' she panted.
I had no trouble getting hold of Frank; it was only 11:00 P.m. in New Mexico. when I'd told him 'Good moves with Scotto@,' he said, everything.
'Of course, now you can't go back to the loft.'
'What about the hotel?'
'Probably okay. But be careful. Take the subway shuttle to Grand Central, get off, then get right back on. Anyone else does the same thing you'll know you're being followed. But I don't think you are. I think what happened was Scotto slipped a twenty to someone in your neighborhood to watch your windows and call him when the lights
