That was the name of the bar Brittany Pratt was at in New York the night she died, according to the reporter’s notes. It was an upscale jazz club in Manhattan. “Sounds something like the Bokaray,” Wilde said as he dialed.
A gruff man’s voice answered on the third ring.
It turned out to be the manager, a guy named Marty Brown. Wilde explained that he wanted to know if a man who looked like Robert Mitchum was in the club on August 14, 1949, the night a woman named Brittany Pratt took a dive off a roof.
“You’re asking me about something that happened three years ago? That’s nuts.”
“Yeah, I know. But-”
“Ask me what I had for breakfast. That I might remember. I’d have a fifty-fifty chance.”
Wilde exhaled.
“This is important,” he said. “Let me rephrase it. Have you
A beat then, “Yeah.”
“You did?”
Yeah.
He did.
“When?”
“I don’t know. He shows up once a year, maybe twice. He’ll be here for two or three days in a row then he disappears.”
“You remember him, though?”
“I remember him. He gets my share of the ladies.”
“Do you know his name?”
“No.”
“Do you know anyone who might know his name?”
“Not offhand.”
“When was the first time you remember seeing him? Was it at least three years ago?”
Silence.
“It could have been.” A beat then, “Eggs. That’s what I had for breakfast this morning. I just remembered.”
“Eggs.”
Right.
Eggs.
“I had coffee and three Camels,” Wilde said.
“Did you remember right away or did you have to think about it?”
Wilde smiled.
“I had to think about it.”
“There you go.”
Wilde hung up, looked at Alabama and said, “Mitchum’s the killer.”
“No he’s not.”
“Yes he is and he’s been at it for at least three years. The only question is how many more has he done besides the one in New York and the one here in Denver.”
“None, that’s how many.”
Wilde tapped a Camel out of the pack, set a book of matches on fire and lit up.
He blew smoke.
When the flames got to his fingertips he shook them out and tossed them in the ashtray.
“Stay away from him,” he said.
Alabama hardened her face.
“You’re wrong about him.”
“This isn’t negotiable.”
“Good because I’m not negotiating.”
“I’m serious, Alabama.”
She opened the door, stepped through and said over her shoulder, “So am I.”
The door slammed.
Wilde was alone.
From the window he watched Alabama huff down the street and disappear around the corner.
He didn’t go after her.
He knew that she knew he was right.
The best thing he could give her at this moment was time alone, time to work through it.
He finished the Camel, mashed it in the ashtray then leaned back in his chair. His feet went up on the desk and his hat went over his face.
He closed his eyes.
The darkness was cool water for his brain.
Tonight he’d guard London.
Something was going to happen, something bad, Wilde could feel it in his bones. He reached into the drawer, pulled his gun out and set it on the desk.
“Rest up.”
56
Mouthing off to Sean Waterfield about what Waverly was going to do was one thing, gathering the intestinal fortitude to figure out if she was bluffing or not was something else. She stayed hidden in the apartment until Su-Moon showed up. The woman got filled in and then said something unexpected. “Tom Bristol and Sean Waterfield are in cahoots.”
Waverly grunted.
“That’s not the impression I got.”
“Think about it,” Su-Moon said. “Whose side is he on now that everything’s hit the fan?” Silence. “Answer, not yours, and that’s been true from the start. Don’t trust him, don’t talk to him and don’t see him. That’s my advice.”
“Well, you’re too late. We already decided that ourselves.”
“He’ll be back with a big apology and a dozen roses,” Su-Moon said. “When he does, keep him at bay. In the meantime, I have a plan. You’re going to wander around Chinatown. I’m going to follow and see if Bristol or one of his dogs follows you.”
“One of his dogs?”
“He knows you’ll be watching for him,” Su-Moon said. “He’ll hire someone.”
Waverly tilted her head.
“How do you come up with this stuff?”
“It’s called growing up on the streets.” She patted Waverly’s knee and said, “It’s time for you to get outside and start playing rabbit.”
Waverly used the facilities.
Then she hid the envelope in a box of cereal and headed out.
