'So okay. I get my license back. There wasn't no money in it. The bum who lifted it grabbed that. Two hundred and twelve bucks. Where'd you find it?'
'Doesn't matter. The guy's dead who was holding it. Somebody carved him apart for nothing. The money was all in the bank.'
'Hell, I'd sure like to get my hands on the bastard. Hittin' me, the dirty punk. Maybe he's better off.' Woody stopped then, his eyes screwing half shut. 'Why tell me about it anyway?'
'Because maybe you might know what dips are working the area. If you don't know, maybe you can find out.'
'What for? If the guy's dead he ...'
'Because I don't like to think it was the guy who was killed. So poke around. You know who to ask.'
'Go ask them yourself, buster.'
'No, you do it, Woody. I haven't got tune.' I finished my beer, threw a buck on the table and got up. When I went by the bar I tapped one of the business types on the shoulder and said, 'You can go back now.'
They just looked at me, picked up their drinks and went back to their boss without a word. Ballinger chose his people carefully.
It wasn't too long ago that the East Side past Lexington had been just one long slum section with a beautiful vitality all its own you couldn't duplicate anywhere in the world. Then they had torn down the elevated and let the light in and it was just too much for the brilliant speculators to miss.
Oh, the slums were still there, isolated pockets nestling shoulder to shoulder with the sterile facades of the expensive high rise apartments, tiny neighborhoods waiting for the slam of the iron ball to send them into an oblivion of plaster dust and crumpled bricks. If an inanimate thing could die, the city was dying of cancerous modernism. One civilization crawling over another. Then there would be ruins laid on top of ruins. I could smell the artificially cooled air seeping from the huge glassed doorways around the uniformed doormen and thought, hell, I liked it better the other way.
Miss Heidi Anders occupied 24C, a corner patio apartment on the good side of the building where the sun came in all day and you weren't forced to see how others lived just a ninety-degree turn away from you. The doorman announced me, saying it was in connection with the compact she had lost and I heard her resonant voice come right out of the wall phone and say, 'Oh, yes, the policeman. Please send him up.'
The doorman would have liked to mix a little small talk with me but the elevator was empty and I stepped inside, pushed number twenty-four and took the ride upstairs.
I had only seen production photos of Heidi Anders, commercial pictures in the flowing gowns she generally wore in the Broadway musicals. For some reason I had always thought of her as the big robust type who could belt a song halfway across the city without a mike. I wasn't quite ready for the pert little thing in the white hip-hugger slacks and red bandana top that left her all naked in between. The slacks were cut so low there was barely enough hip left to hug them up. And if the knot on the bandanna top slipped even a fraction of an inch it was
going to burst right off her. What got me, though, were the eyelashes she had painted around her navel. The damn thing seemed to be inspecting me.
All I could say was, 'Miss Anders?'
She gave me a nervous little smile and opened the door all the way. 'Yes ... but please, call me Heidi. Everybody does. Come in, come in.' Her tongue made a quick pass across her lips and her smile seemed a little forced. No wonder cops were lonely. Even if they thought you were one they got the jumps.
'Hammer. Mike Hammer.'
She took my coat and hat, slipped them on a rack, then led me into the spacious living area of the apartment. She didn't walk. She had a gait all her own, a swaying, rolling, dancing motion that put all her muscles into play. Unconsciously, she flipped the lovely tousle of ash-blonde hair over her head, spun around with her arms spread in a grand theatrical gesture and said, 'Home!'
It might have been home to her, but it looked like some crazy love nest to me. It was all pillows, soft couches and wild pictures, but it sure looked interesting. 'Nice,' I said.
She took a half jump into one of the overstuffed chairs and sank down into it. 'Sit, Mr. Hammer. May I make you a drink? But then, policemen never drink on duty, do they?'
'Sometimes.' I didn't trust the couch. I pulled an ottoman up and perched on the edge of it.
'Well, they never do on TV. Now, are you the one who found my compact?'
'Yes, Ma'am.' I hoped it was the proper TV intonation.
Once again she gave me that nervous little smile. 'You know, I never even realized I had lost it. I'm so glad it has been recovered. You're getting a reward, you know.'
'I'd appreciate it if you'd just make a donation to the P.A.L.'
'The Police Athletic League? Oh, I did a benefit for them one time. Certainly, if that's the way you want it. Do you have it with you?'
'No, you can pick it up from the property clerk after you've identified it. It's a Tiffany piece so they'll have a record of it and your insurance policy will have it described. No trouble getting it back.'
Her shoulders gave an aggravated twitch, then she ran her fingers through her beautifully unruly hair and smiled again. 'I don't know what I'm impatient about. I've been without it all this time, another day won't matter. I guess
it's just the excitement. I've never really been involved with the police except to get my club permit and that was years ago. They don't even do that any more now, do they?'
'No more. Look, maybe I will have that drink. Show me where the goodies are.'
'Right behind you.' She pointed. 'I?ll have a small Scotch on the rocks.'
I got up, made the drinks, and when I got back she had changed from the chair to the couch looking like she was half hoping she was going to get raped. I hated to disappoint her, but I handed her the Scotch and took the ottoman again to try my tall rye and ginger. She toasted me silently, tasted her drink and nodded approvingly, then: 'You know ... since you didn't bring my compact, and you won't accept any reward, was there something you wanted to talk to me about?'
'Not many of us get a chance to see a luscious actress in the flesh. So to speak,' I added. Her navel was still looking at me.
'You're sweet, but you're lying,' she smiled. She tasted her drink again, leaned forward and put it on the floor between her feet. The halter top strained uncertainly, but held.
I said, 'I was hoping you might remember when and where you lost that thing.'
'Oh, but I do. I didn't think about it at first, but when I put my mind to it I remember quite well.'
I took another pull at my drink and waited, trying to keep my eyes off her belly.
'I went to the theater to catch Roz Murray in the opening of her new show. During the intermission I went to the powder room and found it gone. I never suspected that it had been stolen, but I'm always misplacing things anyway, and I supposed I had left it at home. I was sure of it when I found that two fifty dollar bills and some singles were gone too. I thought I had scooped some out of my drawer before left, but I was in such a damn rush to meet Josie to make curtain time I could have pulled a boo-boo.'
'How did you get to the theater?'
'Josie picked me up downstairs in a cab and paid the bill.'
'And you never bothered checking for it later?'
'Oh, I kind of looked around. I always keep a few hundred dollars loose in the drawer and the rest was still there and I didn't bother to count it. I figured the compact was simply tucked away someplace else.'
I rattled the ice around in the glass and tried the drink again. 'One more thing. At any time that evening do you remember being crowded?'
'Crowded?'
'Hemmed in with people where somebody could make a pass at your handbag.'
She looked thoughtful a moment, then reached down for her drink again. It was a very unsettling move. Over the glass her eyes touched mine and her tongue made that nervous gesture again, passing quickly over her lips. 'No ... not really ... but, yes, while we were going in there was this one man ... well, he sort of cut across in front of us and had to excuse himself. He acted like he knew somebody on the other side of us.'
'Can you describe him?'
She squinched her eyes and mouth shut tight for a good five seconds, then let her face relax. Her eyes
