right. But I don’t know about this grand jury story. I know this guy.” He tapped Masters’s picture. “He works up at Ajax. Doesn’t come in here often, maybe three times a year, but he’s been doing it as long as I’ve owned the place.”
I didn’t say anything, but took a swallow of beer. Anything tastes good when your throat is dry from embarrassment.
“Tell you for free, though, this other fellow’s never been in here. At least not when I’ve been here.” He gave a shout of laughter and reached across the bar to pat my cheek. “That’s okay, cookie, I won’t spoil your story for you.”
“Thanks,” I said dryly. “What do I owe you for the beer?”
“On the house.” He gave another snort of laughter and rolled back down the aisle to his unfinished lunch. I took another swallow of the thin beer. Then I put a dollar on the counter for Luke and walked slowly out of the bar.
I walked on down Van Buren past Sears’s main Chicago store. A lot of short-order food places were on the other side, but I had to go another block to find another bar. The bartender looked blankly at the photos and called the waitress over. She looked at both of them doubtfully, and then picked up McGraw’s. “He looks kind of familiar,” she said. “Is he on TV or something?” I said no, but had she ever seen him in the bar. She didn’t think so, but she couldn’t swear to it. What about Masters? She didn’t think so, but a lot of businessmen came in there, and all men with gray hair and business suits ran together in her mind after a while. I put two singles on the counter, one for her and one for the bartender, and went on down the street.
Her TV question gave me an idea for a better cover story. The next place I went to I said I was a market researcher looking for viewer recognition. Did anyone remember ever seeing these two people together? This approach got more interest, but drew another blank.
The game was on TV in this bar, bottom of the fourth with Cincinnati leading 4-0.I watched Biittner hit a single and then die on second after a hair-raising steal before I moved on. In all, I went to thirty-two bars that afternoon, catching most of the game in between. The Cubs lost, 6-2. I’d covered my territory pretty thoroughly. A couple of places recognized McGraw vaguely, but I put that down to the number of times his picture had been in the paper over the years. Most people probably had a vague recognition of Jimmy Hoffa, too. One other bar knew Masters by sight as one of the men from Ajax, and Billy’s knew him by name and title as well. But neither place remembered seeing McGraw with him. Some places were hostile and took a combination of bribes and threats to get an answer. Some were indifferent. Others, like the Spot, had to have the manager make the decision. But none of them had seen my pair together.
It was after six by the time I got to Washington and State, two blocks west of Michigan. After my fifth bar I’d stopped drinking any of the beer I ordered, but I was feeling slightly bloated, as well as sweaty and depressed. I’d agreed to meet Ralph at Ahab’s at eight. I decided to call it an afternoon and go home to wash up first.
Marshall Field occupies the whole north side of the street between State and Wabash. It seemed to me there might be one other bar on Washington, close to Michigan, if my memory of the layout was correct. That could wait until another day. I went down the stairs to the State Street subway and boarded a B train to Addison.
Evening rush hour was still in full force. I couldn’t get a seat and had to stand all the way to Fullerton.
At Lotty’s I headed straight for the bathroom and a cold shower. When I came out, I looked into the guest room; Jill was up, so I dumped my clothes in a drawer and put on a caftan. Jill was sitting on the living-room floor playing with two rosy-cheeked, dark-haired children who looked to be three or four.
“Hi, honey. You get a good rest?”
She looked up at me and smiled. A lot of color had returned to her face and she seemed much more relaxed. “Hi,” she said. “Yes, I only woke up an hour ago. These are Carol’s nieces. She was supposed to baby-sit tonight, but Lotty talked her into coming over here and making homemade enchiladas, yum-yum.”
“Yum-yum,” the two little girls chorused.
“That sounds great. I’m afraid I have to go back out tonight, so I’ll have to give it a miss.”
Jill nodded. “Lotty told me. Are you doing some more detecting?”
“Well, I hope so.”
Lotty called out from the kitchen and I went in to say hi. Carol was working busily at the stove and turned briefly to flash me a bright smile. Lotty was sitting at the table reading the paper, drinking her everlasting coffee. She looked at me through narrowed eyes. “The detective work wasn’t so agreeable this afternoon, eh?”
I laughed. “No. I learned nothing and had to drink too much beer doing so. This stuff smells great; wish I could cancel this evening out.”
“Then do so.”
I shook my head. “I feel as though I don’t have much time-maybe this second murder. Even though I feel a little rocky-too long a day, too much heat, I can’t stop. I just hope I don’t get sick at dinner-my date is getting fed up with me as it is. Although maybe if I fainted or something it would make him feel stronger, more protective.” I shrugged. “Jill looks a lot better, don’t you think?”
“Oh, yes. The sleep did her good. That was well thought of, to get her out of that house for a while. I talked to her a bit when I came in; she’s very well be, doesn’t whine and complain, but it’s obvious the mother has no emotions to spare for her. As for her sister-” Lotty made an expressive gesture.
“Yeah, I agree. We can’t keep her down here forever, though. Besides, what on earth can she do during the day? I’ve got to be gone again tomorrow, and not on the kind of errand that she can go along with.”
“Well, I’ve been thinking about that. Carol and I had a bit of an idea, watching her with Rosa and Tracy-the two nieces. Jill is good with these children-took them on, we didn’t ask her to look after them. Babies are good when you’re depressed-something soft and unquestioning to cuddle. What would you think of her coming over to the clinic and minding children there for a day? As you saw this morning, they’re always tumbling around the place-mothers who are sick can’t leave them alone; or if one baby is sick, who looks after the other when Mama brings him in?”
I thought it over for a minute, but couldn’t see anything wrong with it. “Ask her,” I said. “I’m sure the best thing for her right now would be to have something to do.”
Lotty got up and went to the living room. I followed. We stood for a minute, watching the three girls on the floor. They were terribly busy about something, although it wasn’t clear what. Lotty squatted down next to them, moving easily. I moved into the background. Lotty spoke perfect Spanish, and she talked to the little girls in that language for a minute. Jill watched her respectfully.
Then Lotty turned to Jill, still balancing easily on her haunches. “You’re very good with these little ones. Have you worked with young children before?”
“I was a counselor at a little neighborhood day camp in June,” Jill said, flushing a bit. “ But that’s all. I never baby-sit or anything like that.”
“Well, I had a bit of a plan. See what you think. Vic must be gone all the time, trying to find out why your father and brother were killed. Now while you are visiting down here, you could be of great help to me at the clinic.” She outlined her idea.
Jill’s face lit up. “But you know,” she said seriously, “I don’t have any training. I might not know what to do if they all started to cry or something.”
“Well, if that happens, that will be the test of your knack and patience,” Lotty said. “I will provide you a little assistance by way of a drawerful of lollipops. Bad for the teeth, perhaps, but great for tears.”
I went into the bedroom to change for dinner. Jill hadn’t made the bed. The sheets were crumpled. I straightened them out, then thought I might just lie down for a minute to recover my equilibrium.
The next thing I knew Lotty was shaking me awake. “It’s seven thirty, Vic: don’t you have to be going?”
“Oh, hell!” I swore. My head was thick with sleep. “Thanks, Lotty.” I swung out of bed and hurriedly put on a bright orange sundress. I stuck the Smith & Wesson in my handbag, grabbed a sweater, and ran out the door, calling good-bye to Jill as I went. Poor Ralph, I thought. I really am abusing him, keeping him waiting in restaurants just so that I can pick his brains about Ajax.
It was 7:50 when I turned south on Lake Shore Drive and just 8:00 when I got onto Rush Street, where the restaurant lay. One of my prejudices is against paying to park the car, but tonight I didn’t waste time looking for street parking. I turned the car over to a parking attendant across from Ahab’s. I looked at my watch as I went in the door: 8:08. Damned good, I thought. My head still felt woolly from my hour of sleep, but I was glad I’d gotten it.
Ralph was waiting by the entrance. He kissed me lightly in greeting, then stood back to examine my face.
