Her little apartment was surprisingly neat, clean, tidy. Everything dusted, everything polished. There was a small refrigerator, waist-high, and a framed photograph of John F Kennedy over the bed. Calazo couldn't figure that.
'You like a beer?' she asked him.
'That would be fine,' he said gratefully.
'Thank you.'
She got him a cold Bud, one of the tall ones.
He sat there in his overcoat and old fedora, so worn that there was a hole in the front at the triangular crease.
'Betty,' he said, 'you got a nice thing going here. You take care of the locals?'
'of course,' she said, astonished that he would ask such a question.
'And the prick behind the lobby desk. And the alkie manager. How else could I operate?'
'Yeah,' he said, 'it figures. I've been checking you the last three or four days. Regulars mostly, aren't they?'
'Mostly. Some walk-in trade. Friends of friends.'
'Sure, I understand. You got a regular named Ronald Bellsey?'
'I don't ask last names.'
'All right, let's concentrate on Ronald. Comes in two afternoons a week.
A chunky guy, an ex-pug.'
'Maybe,' she said cautiously.
'What kind of a guy is he?'
'He's a pig!' she burst out.
'Sure he is,' Calazo said cheerfully.
'Likes to hurt you, doesn't he?'
'How did you know that?'
'That's the kind of guy he is. I want to take him, Betty.
With your help.'
'Take him? You mean arrest him?'
'No.
'Kill him?'
'No. Just teach him to straighten up and fly right.'
'You want to do that here?'
'That's right.'
'He'll kill me,' she said.
'You take him here and you don't kill him, he'll come back and kill me.'
'I don't think so,' Detective Calazo said.
'I think that after I get through with him, he'll stay as far away from you as he can get. So you'll lose one customer-big deal.'
'I don't like it,' she said.
'Betty, I don't see where you have any choice. I don't want to close you down, I really don't, though I could do it. All I want to do is punish this scumbag. If he does come back, you can always tell him the cops made you do it.'
She thought about it a long time. She went to the small refrigerator and poured herself a glass of sweet wine. Calazo waited patiently.
'If he gets too heavy,' Betty Lee said finally, 'I could always go to Baltimore for a while. I got a sister down there.
She's in the game, too.'
'Sure you could,' the detective said, 'but believe me, he's not going to come on heavy. Not after I get through with him.'
She took a deep breath.
'How do you want to handle it?' she asked him.
He told her. She listened carefully.
'It should work,' she said.
'Give it to him good.'
Detectives Venable and Estrella walked in on Mrs. Gladys Ferguson without calling first. They didn't want her phoning Mrs. Yesell and saying something like: 'Blanche, two police officers are coming to ask me about you and our bridge club.
What on earth is going on?'
Mrs. Ferguson turned out to be a tall, dignified lady who had to be pushing eighty. She walked with a cane, and one of her shoes had a builtup sole, about three inches thick. She was polite enough to the two cops after they identified themselves, but cool and aloof.
'Ma'am,' Estrella started, 'we'd like to ask you a few questions in connection with a criminal investigation we're conducting. Your answers could be very important. I'm sure you'll want to cooperate.'
'What kind of a criminal investigation?' she asked.
'Into what? I've had nothing to do with any crime.'
'I'm sure you haven't,' Detective Estrella said.
'This involves the whereabouts of witnesses on a night a crime was committed.' She stared at him.
'And that's all you're going to tell me?'
'I'm afraid it is.'
'Will I be called to testify?' she said sharply.
'At a trial?'
'Oh, no,' Detective Helen Venable said hastily.
'It's really not a sworn statement we want from you or anything like that.
Just information.'
'Very well then. What is it you wish to know?','Mrs. Ferguson,'
Estrella said, 'are you a member of a bridge club that meets on Friday nights?'
Her composure was tried, but it held.
'What on earth,' she said in magisterial tones, 'does my bridge club have to do with any criminal activity?'
'Ma'am,' Helen said, beginning to get teed off, 'if you keep asking us questions, we're going to be here all day. It'll be a lot easier for all of us if you just answer our questions.
Are you a member of a bridge club that meets on Friday nights?'
'I am.'
Estrella: 'Every Friday night?'
'That is correct.'
Venable: 'How long has this club been meeting?'
'Almost five years now. We started with two tables. But members died or moved away. Now we're down to one.'
Estrella: 'And you've never missed a single Friday night in those five years?'
'Never. We're very proud of that.'
Venable: 'Have all the current members of the club been together for five years?'
'No. There have been several changes. But the four of us have been playing together for-oh, I'd say about two years.'
Estrella: 'I presume you rotate as hostesses. The game is held at a different home each Friday?'
'That is correct. I wish you would tell me exactly what you're trying to get at.'
Estrella: 'Do you recall a Friday night early in November this year?
There was a tremendous rainstorm-one of the worst we've ever had.'
'There's nothing wrong with my memory, young man. I remember that night very well.'
Venable: 'In spite of the dreadful weather, your bridge club met?'
'You're not listening to me, young lady. I told you we have not missed a single Friday night in almost five
