anger from how many remembered betrayals. Her look said it all.
I let her go. No use dancing with a bitch long dead. She gave me a grim half-smile, so different from the come-on of a few minutes ago.
“What’s the matter, big boy? Lost your appetite?”
It was true. My hard-on was gone, replaced by a cool revulsion. One look, the wrong kind, was enough to dampen any guy’s interest.
The band had finished the set. The room was quiet except for some giggles and the clink of ice cubes.
“Yeah. I just remembered I have to feed my piranhas.”
I did an about-face and walked away.
CHAPTER XXV
Gene Black was waiting for me when I got home. John, the doorman, nodded at me and jerked his head at the hunched figure of the cop. It was 1:10 AM and he was sitting in the lobby on a sofa that was badly in need of reupholstering. He’d been deep into the sports pages of the News and his stubby fingers were black with ink.
When he saw me, he stood, grinned sheepishly and rubbed his hands together. “Nice tux. You just get off bartending?”
“Jesus,” I said. “The hours you keep. You should’ve been the madam in a cathouse. Sleep all day, play all night.”
“Yeah, whatever,” Black nodded in tired acquiescence. “Listen, Rogan. I’ve had a long day. Gimme a break, willya, buddy?”
I nodded. He was right. That was no way to treat a long-suffering civil servant. “Come on upstairs. We’ll make some brewmaster happy.” I threw my arm around his shoulder and pushed him toward the elevator.
It took a long time for the elevator to get to the ground floor and it took just as long to get to the tenth. There was always some problem with the mechanism and I suspected it was about to give out again. The other car had been out for weeks. The walls of the elevator were some kind of wood-like veneer that was warping and pulling away from the backing. Some glue would have served to stick it back in place, but no one had ever had the motivation to fix it, so each week it separated a little more from the wall.
When we got to ten, Black got off first and followed me down the hall to my apartment. The door had just been painted for the first time in ten years, but some bozo of a workman had brushed against it and left a streak where his back had been.
Black looked at the door. “What happened? You try to knock some guy through the door?”
I grunted. It was too late in the day for witty repartee. I opened the door for him and pointed the way to the living room.
“Help yourself to a brew. I have to drain the lizard first.”
On the way back from the head I checked the machine for messages. There were a couple of calls from bill collectors and one from Rachel. Her voice sounded edgy. She said she had something important to tell me. I didn’t know what time she made the call. My answering machine was one of the ancient kind that didn’t have a time stamp.
I looked at my watch. It was 1:25 AM. I decided to call her after Black left.
By the time I got back to the living room, Black had polished off half a bottle of Rolling Rock. I got one for myself and caught up with him.
He didn’t say anything for a couple of minutes. Just sat there kind of shell-shocked. I didn’t disturb him as he sat there rummaging through his thoughts. Then he seemed to wake up and notice that I was sitting across from him.
He made a face and said, “Wadda you got for me?”
I told him the truth. “I ain’t got dick.”
He nodded and fell silent for a long time. Then he finished his beer and went to the kitchen for another one. When he came back, he plopped down into the chair, took a long swig and said, “I think it was the boyfriend.”
He pulled a pack of Camels out of his shirt pocket, lit one and jammed the pack back into his pocket. When he couldn’t find an ash tray, he tapped the ashes into the mouth of the empty bottle.
I really felt like bumming a cigarette from him.
“Chisolm?” I said.
He nodded and I could see that old cop’s mind working.
“Why him?”
“I don’t like him. He’s too slick.”
“Sure,” I said. “Try to get a conviction for that. You got anything on him?”
He shrugged and I could see he didn’t. “Where’s his motive?”
“They were breaking up. She was going to walk out on him.”
“Maybe. Maybe not,” I said. “Besides, you don’t kill someone for walking out on you. That’s too Victorian. He’s not the kind to do that.”
“I don’t like him,” Black repeated.
“Then don’t have his child.”
“He’s the one supplied her the coke.”
“Is that right?” I chewed on that for a minute. “Or did she supply him?”
He shook his head vigorously. “Naw, he gave it to her.”
“Even so, you still don’t have a motive.”
He threw up his hands. “OK, so who do you like?”
He had me there. I didn’t even have as much conviction as he did. What I did have was a goddam pain that shot up my arm and down my side.
Black saw me wince. “Still hurts?” he said.
“Only smarts when I do the high hurdles.”
He took a deep drag on his cigarette and studied the lit end with real concentration. Then he let out the smoke very slowly. I’d never seen anybody enjoy a cigarette so much.
“What about Chisolm’s wife?” he asked. “She looks like a bitch with a killer instinct.”
I nodded. I had to agree with him. “She sure does, doesn’t she? I haven’t given up sniffing around her.”
He gave off a long sigh. I looked at him real close. What a sorry sight the pair of us made. There we were, a worn-out cop about to be pensioned off and a smart ass ex-marine with a gimpy arm. Two seasoned pros and we couldn’t get to first base.
“I don’t know who killed her, Gene. I wish I did because I’d like to end his miserable life.”
“Now, now…I’m a lawman. You can’t say that kind of shit in front of me. I might get offended.” He took a long swallow of beer and cleared his throat with a hoarse cough that sounded like he was about to puke up the contents of his stomach.
“What about her boss, Stallings?” he asked.
“What about him?”
“She didn’t like him.”
“Big deal. You like your boss?”
He grunted and spread his hands. Then he leaned back and locked his hands behind his head. “Well, who else is there?”
“Only a couple of hundred other suspects.” It was getting late and I wanted to call Rachel. I got up from the chair. “We’re out of beer, Lieutenant.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he said as he rose reluctantly. “I get the hint. You don’t have to be so blunt. I can understand subtlety.”
“Yeah. Like a two-by-four over the head.” I gave him a smile and a half-salute. “Carry on, regardless.”
He turned serious when he reached the door. “I wanna close this case. You get something, you give it to me, right?”
“I want to close this case more than you do. Make book on it.”
