“Choked her, then threw her in the ocean.”
Poochie frowned and his chin crinkled, his eyes growing damp. “Ooooh. That’s too bad. She wasn’t a nice lady, but nobody should have done that to her. Who done it, Mike?”
“I don’t know, Poochie. But maybe you can tell me.”
His eyes widened, terror replacing sorrow. “But I didn’t do it, Mike! I don’t kill people.” Tears flowed down his stubbly cheeks and his mouth quivered.
“I know you didn’t. Now stop that.”
He nodded, swallowed, rubbing his eyes with the tattered sleeve of his robe and sniffling.
“It’s just that you may have seen something important. Something that could lead me to the yellow-haired lady’s killer. Now think back, Poochie. Think back about a week ago. Did you see the lady then?”
“A week ago?”
“A week ago.”
“I… I think I saw her.”
“Think you saw her?”
“I saw her… but I didn’t do nothing!”
“Who was she with?”
“Her dog.”
“Nobody else?”
“Nope. Just her dog. It’s a big boxer dog. Bothers my cats sometimes.”
“Okay. What was she doing?”
“Just walking with the dog. Then she saw me and said some bad words. Worse words than you said, Mike. Then she was throwing clam shells and sticks at me, so I ran away and ran inside my house and shut the door so she couldn’t come in. I took my cats in so that mean dog wouldn’t bother them, either. She was right outside there.” He pointed past me to his door. “She said some more bad words, and went away.”
“And that was the last time you saw her?”
His head bobbed on his skinny neck, assenting.
“Poochie, did you ever see the parties at the house?”
“Oh, sure. They threw away lots of good stuff that I found. Look.” He pulled a cardboard box of chipped crockery from under the table. “I’m saving them for when I have company. Ain’t they nice, Mike?”
“Swell. Tell me about the parties. Can you remember those pretty well?”
He was nodding, smiling. This was a memory he liked. “Yeah, I remember them because I got so much to eat. Lots of cars come in there, and when you stand up close to the house, you can hear the music. Sometimes when the door opens, the music gets real loud.”
From that I took it that the house must be partially soundproofed.
I asked, “Were there many lights on?”
“Naw, not so many. It was hard to see on account of them shutters that was closed all the time. Guys used to give me dimes for helping ’em push out cars what was stuck in the sand. Sometimes I was too weak and they would let me sit behind the wheel and they would push.” His eyes brightened. “One give a dollar once!”
Big shots. Spend a fortune gambling and throw peanuts to the little moron. But Poochie didn’t care. He thought they were doing him a favor.
“Did you ever see any fights on the grounds? Maybe down on the beach?”
“No, not really. I saw a lady slap a guy once, though. They were in the bushes by the little house. They was wrestling, I think.”
That was a new name for it. I had to stop and think what to ask him next. Getting information out of this character was like trying to hold onto a wet eel.
“How often did the yellow-haired lady have parties, Poochie?”
“Oh, lots of times. Always on the same days.”
“When was that?”
“Oh, that was the days when the red bus goes past. I can tell that way.”
The red bus he mentioned was the area transit company’s weekend morning runs to Wilcox, the nearest town of any large size. It went by every Friday and Saturday morning about nine o’clock. I’d made the trip once myself, the last time I’d visited Sidon.
“Now think real hard, Poochie. Did you ever see anyone around there that really sticks in your memory? Somebody you might have seen before?”
A quick flash of fear passed over his face and he shrank back a little.
I pressed him. “Tell me, Poochie-did you?”
His head shook nervously. “No, Mike, don’t make me tell you things like that. I don’t want to get hit again.”
Again.
“Was it Dekkert you saw?”
He chewed on his lip and fell silent. He shrugged. Maybe he had forgotten the guy’s name.
“You know,” I insisted, “Dekkert-the deputy chief?”
“Yes, yes, Mike, I did see him there… but you won’t tell on me, will you? He’ll hit me again. I know he will.”
“Don’t you worry,” I assured him. “If Dekkert tries anything, I’ll knock his block off. Whatever you tell me is just between us pals, Poochie.”
The beachcomber was really jumpy now. He only knew that someone was dead, and that nobody around here liked him, and that he was liable to get throttled if he said too much.
Gently I said, “Now, just tell me when you saw him.”
The little guy was shaking his head, almost frantically. “He’s there all the time, Mike. At that place. When lots of people come, he always comes too. He caught me at the garbage cans one time, when I was looking for meat for my cats. He hit me, a bunch of times, and he woulda hit me more, only some lady yelled at him from a car and he just told me to get the heh… to get out of there.”
“At the yellow-haired lady’s place, Pooch… was he always outside?”
I figured Dekkert for doing security and helping cars get parked.
“ Not just outside. I watched out for him, ’cause I didn’t wanna get hit, but I guess he was inside most of the time. I stayed in the bushes so he wouldn’t see me, but I always saw him, coming out the door where the garbage cans are. He came out sometimes and went down to the little place with some men.”
“Little place?”
“By the trees. That little house.”
The gazebo.
I asked, “Did you follow him? Did you ever hear what they spoke about?”
Poochie shook his head slowly. “No sir, not me. I never went near ’em.”
Well, that was that. The gist of it seemed to be that Dekkert was there strictly as a strong-arm. He’d be good at that. I wondered if those little sojourns to the gazebo were to put the squeeze on a welcher. Nice out-of-the-way place for it.
And it was no wonder that the cops had started beating the bushes for Sharron Wesley a week after her vanishing act-without her around, there’d be no regular weekend “party” out at that ocean-side casino. Maybe Dekkert was interested in Sharron’s sudden departure because, as his employer, she owed him some cash.
It was later than I thought. I slapped my hat back on and was about to say good night to Poochie, but I never got that far. His mouth was open and his tongue fell loosely over his bottom lip. But his eyes were as glassy as beads and focusing over my shoulder.
“ Mike! ” he blurted.
Poochie’s skinny frame hit me before I could move.
There was a smashing roar in the room and the acrid fumes of cordite blasted at me.
CHAPTER FIVE
