that’s what he does. He gets results.”
“So I’ve heard.” Danzig leaned forward, set his glass down on top of a small marble-topped table. He didn’t use a coaster. Either glasses don’t leave rings on marble or he didn’t care. He could always throw the table away. I kept my drink in my hand. He said, “Cherry was a friend of mine, you know.”
“I know.”
“I had been seeing her for about a month, maybe a little longer than that. I probably would have gone on seeing her for another month. No more than that.” He smiled disarmingly. “I don’t seem to be very good at sticking to a woman. I find that any reasonably good-looking woman can be exciting company for perhaps two months. Then they become boring.”
I didn’t have an answer for that one.
“Unfortunately,” he went on, “Cherry was murdered. I’m sorry about that if only because I genuinely liked her. She was a warm, sweet person.” The smile went away. “I’m particularly sorry that she happened to be killed while I was involved with her. It’s awkward for me. As long as the case remains unsolved, the police have an excuse to intrude in my affairs. They might even keep the case open on purpose in order to provide themselves with an excuse to harass me. In my business, that’s a liability.”
I didn’t ask him what his business was.
“It’s unfortunate that I have to be exposed to this simply because of my friendship for Cherry. I’ve been friendly with quite a few of the young ladies who’ve worked at Treasure Chest. I go there frequently, I get acquainted with the people who work there. The dancers, the barmaids, the waitresses. I’m in a position to be of assistance to them in their careers, you understand. And they like a taste of the high life. They work hard, they don’t earn all that much money, they appreciate a decent dinner and civilized company.”
“I see,” I said. I didn’t, if you want to know, but it was something to say.
“You familiar with a fellow named Andrew Mallard?”
“I never met him.”
“Neither did I,” Danzig said. He smiled again. “That’s not what I asked.”
“I know who he is.” (I’m very proud of that sentence, let me tell you. Is. Not was. That’s thinking on your feet, if I say so myself.)
“Was,” Danzig said. “Not is. He died tonight.”
“Oh?” (I’m less proud of that sentence, but they can’t all be zingers.)
He nodded. “It was just on the radio. They identified him as a former close associate of Tulip Willing, roommate of murdered dancer Cherry Bounce. Somebody tipped the police and they found him dead in bed. His bed.”
“How did he die?”
“Choked to death on his own vomit,” Danzig said. He picked up his scotch and took a dainty sip. “Got drunk, passed out, then threw up in his sleep and sucked it into his lungs or something. You all right?”
“Just a little nauseous.”
“Yeah, well, it’s only dangerous if you happen to be unconscious at the time. Freshen that drink for you?”
“No thanks.”
He crossed to the bar and put another ounce or so of scotch in his own glass. “Now here’s my line of thought,” he went on, returning to his chair. “I think it would be very convenient if it happened to turn out that Andrew Mallard murdered Cherry. He was there. He could have done it. Any list of suspects would have to have him on it, wouldn’t you say?”
“I suppose so.”
“There it is,” he said. “All Leo Haig has to do is prove Mallard killed Cherry. Then he got full of remorse over what he’d done and did some heavy drinking. And so on. How do you like it?”
“Well, it’s certainly possible.”
That’s the ticket.” He drew an alligator wallet from his jacket pocket and pulled out a sheaf of bills. They were hundreds, and he counted out ten of them, paused, studied me for a moment, and counted out ten more. I don’t know what he saw in my face that doubled the ante. Maybe the whole thing was just theatrics. “Two thousand dollars,” he said.
“Uh.”
Then he did something incredible. He took the twenty bills and tore them in half. I guess I wasn’t perfect at keeping a straight face, because he grinned at my expression.
“For Haig,” he said, offering me what managed to be half of two thousand dollars without being one thousand dollars. “Here, take it. He gets the other half when he proves that Andrew Mallard murdered Cherry Bounce. That’s if he brings it off within three days. Take it.”
I took it because it was impossible not to, but instead of holding onto it I set it down on the table next to Leonard Danzig’s glass of scotch. “There’s one problem,” I said.
“Let’s hear it. I’m usually fairly good at straightening out problems.”
I could believe it. I said, “The thing is, you don’t know Mr. Haig. I’m not saying he wouldn’t work for you, but suppose Andrew Mallard didn’t murder Cherry Bounce? Suppose someone else did?”
Danzig thought this over. I’d hate to play poker with him. Nothing at all showed in his face. At length he shrugged and said, “All right, I just thought it was easier that way. No loose ends. What I’m concerned with is the time element. If Haig gets the murderer in three days he gets the other half of the two thousand. How’s that?”
“Whoever the murderer is?”
“Whoever.”
I asked if I could use the phone. He pointed at one halfway across the room. I don’t suppose it was more than forty yards from me. “It might be tapped,” he said. “I pay a guy to check them out periodically, but he hasn’t been around for a few days.”
I told him it didn’t matter. I didn’t dial Haig’s number because the phone had buttons instead of a dial I
“Yes.”
“Goodnight, then. And come directly home when you leave Mr. Danzig’s apartment.”
I said I would and hung up. To Danzig I said, “Mr. Haig says I should take your money.”
Danzig smiled and pointed to the little pile of bills.
“There are a couple of qualifiers first. You mentioned a three-day limit.”
“If it went a few hours over—”
“That’s not the point. Would it be worth a bonus if Haig wrapped it up within twenty-four hours. Say tomorrow afternoon?”
“It wouldn’t hurt any. What kind of a bonus?”
I was supposed to use my judgment on this one, so I judged quickly. “Double,” I said. “Four thousand if it’s wrapped up tomorrow. Two thousand if we make the three-day limit. Beyond that you don’t owe us anything and you get the stack of homemade fifties back.”
“Done.”
“All right. The second point is that I’m supposed to ask you some questions now. Mr. Haig said he’s assuming that you did not kill Cherry and don’t know who did. He says only a rank fool would hire him under those circumstances, and I’ve used my intelligence guided by my experience to decide that you’re not a fool.”
“I’m honored.”
“Were you at Treasure Chest the night Cherry was murdered?”
“Yes.”
The admission was so direct that it stopped me momentarily. I got back into gear and said, “Were you there when it happened?”
“I was on the premises.”
