"No, it's no trouble at all. I've probably made the same mistake myself." Leo was behind Mitchell, following him to the front door. As they reached the door, and Leo opened it, the phone rang in the front hall and the kettle began to whistle in the kitchen. "Everything at once," Leo said.
Mitchell wanted to wait. He tried to think of a reason, but Leo was letting it ring, pushing the door closed. "I'll see you around," Leo said. He got Mitchell out and closed the door on him, hurried to the phone in the hall, but it stopped ringing as he reached it. The kettle was still giving off a shrill whistle. Leo got to it, steam pouring out, and took the kettle off the stove. He didn't make a cup of coffee though. He poured a vodka and 7-Up instead. In fact he had three of them while he was getting dressed.
Mitchell sat in his car, four houses down from the duplex. He was watching Leo's house and the white T-bird parked at the curb. He remembered Barbara saying the man who had been in their house, the skinny guy with long hair, had gotten into a white car. Looking at the car-that he hadn't noticed before, when he arrived-the gut feeling was stronger than ever. Thirty minutes later, when Leo Frank came out of the house and got into the white car, Mitchell's gut feeling moved up into his mind where he could look at it and reason and believe-not know, as O'Boyle would say, but believe-that Leo was one of them. Mitchell said to himself, Stay with him.
"Leo, what'd I say? At my office, right? Jesus, you come here."
"I went to your office," Leo said. "Man, you're out to lunch. I got to talk to you."
"You tell me he's following you, so you come here. Jesus."
"No, today I haven't seen the guy at all. Maybe he's quit, I don't know. Yesterday he comes in the studio again. Says hello, that's all. How you doing? Later on I go out have something to eat. I look over, the guy's sitting there having a cup of coffee. I go home last night, I see his car drive by twice, maybe three times."
Alan was having a corned beef sandwich and a bottle of red pop. He wasn't paying any attention to Doreen dancing topless on the stage, grinding out a slow rock number for the last of the lunch trade. He was tense because Leo was half in the bag and it wasn't three o'clock yet. But he had to appear calm and convince Leo that everything was all right, that the guy didn't know anything, the guy was groping, taking a shot in the dark.
"Let's say he really did forget the locker number," Alan said. "Okay, I call him again and tell him. I've been calling him, the son of a bitch is out following you around."
Leo was hunched over the table with his drink, his back to Doreen as the rock number ended and Doreen started down from the stage. "But why me?" Leo said. "Why's he picking on me?"
"Leo, stop and think, will you? Because you knew his girlfriend. She used to work for you." Alan looked up as Doreen, still topless, approached their table.
She touched Leo on the shoulder as she went by and said, "Hey, baby, I want to see you before I leave. You still owe me for last week."
Alan waited until she was past them, going toward the bar. "Look, he pulls this cute stunt because he's got no place else to go-hey, you listening to me?"
"Yeah, I'm listening."
"He's got no place else to start. But what's he prove? Nothing. The only thing is, we don't want to take any chances, right? You're going to finish that drink before I finish this corned beef. So why don't you do it and get out of here?"
Leo drank down the rest of his vodka and 7-Up. He wanted another one, but Alan would say something and get nasty about it. He'd stop off someplace else, down the street, before going back to the studio.
"Okay, I see him again I'll let you know."
"On the phone," Alan said. "Don't ever come to the theater or my place unless I tell you it's all right. Now get out of here."
Leo paid his check at the bar, walked down past the stools into the dark front part of the place. He had his hand on the door to push it open, then moved forward quickly, off balance, as the door seemed to open by itself. He stopped to avoid bumping into the guy coming in-the guy-feeling the shock of suddenly seeing him, appearing out of nowhere.
Mitchell stepped back, holding the door open. He said, "How you doing?"
"Man, I don't know," Leo said, trying hard to smile. "We keep running into each other, don't we?"
"I was just over at the studio. I thought I'd stop have a beer."
"You get your money's worth?"
"It was pretty good. Mary Lou."
"Yeah, well, I'll see you around," Leo said.
Mitchell nodded, with a pleasant expression. "You probably will."
He stopped inside the door, at the pay phone, and called his office. When Janet came on he said, "Any calls?" He listened to her say, slightly agitated, "Any calls? That's all you've been getting are calls. All day yesterday and today." Mitchell said, "Give me the important ones, any customers," and made a list of them in a pocket notebook as Janet dictated the names. "Anybody else?" Nothing important, she told him. A man had called three times yesterday and twice this morning. She recognized his voice after the first time, but he wouldn't leave a name. Mitchell thanked her, said he'd see her later and hung up.
He walked from the dim front area, down the bar through pink spotlights, to a stool next to the service section with its rows of glasses and trays of olives and cherries and lemon twists. When the elderly bartender he had spoken to once before took his order, a draft beer, Mitchell turned on the stool to watch a good-looking dark-haired girl finish her dance and come down among the tables, slipping a blouse on over her bare breasts. Most of the tables were empty. Lunchtime was past and only a few beer drinkers were left, scattered around, one guy eating a sandwich. The place was quiet. He turned to see Doreen come out of a door at the end of the bar, wearing slacks and knotting a white shirt to show off her dark slender midriff. Doreen didn't see him. He watched her go toward the tables and heard her say, "Hey Alan, what happened to Leo?" Her words momentarily clear in the silence before the rock music started again, filling the place with sound, and now a thin blond girl was dancing.
There was the name-Leo-like a signal. And another name-Alan. The guy at the table eating the sandwich, the guy with thin shoulders and long hair-looking at his back, seeing Doreen standing by him, talking, then walking away, toward the front door.
He was aware of the feeling again, the tightening in his stomach that was a real feeling, unmistakable, telling him something, giving him something to think about. He waited perhaps a minute-until he realized he might miss his chance if he waited any longer. Mitchell picked up his beer and walked over to the table where the skinny guy with long hair was sitting.
"I understand you been trying to get hold of me."
Alan was taking a bite of the corned beef sandwich. Chewing, his eyes raised and he said, "What?"
Mitchell pulled out a chair and sat down, putting his beer on the table. "I understand you called me three times yesterday and a couple of times this morning."
"I did? What'd I call you?"
"You probably been wondering about the money-why I didn't deliver it."
Alan took another bite of the sandwich. "Man, this is weird. I'm having lunch, a guy I never saw before sits down says I called him."
"You've seen me before," Mitchell said.
"You sure of that?"
"Not a hundred percent," Mitchell said, "but I've got a strong reason to believe it. Put it that way."
Alan's tongue sucked at his teeth. "Okay, I give up. What's the game? Some kind of con?"
"The other way around," Mitchell said. "Only it isn't a con. You said it yourself one time on the phone. You said, 'This is no con.' "
"I got an idea," Alan said. "Why don't you get the fuck out of here? You don't, I'm going to call the management, tell them you're bothering me."