“Cops were on the job. They found him an hour later.”
“Probably thought he was sleeping.”
“You’re a cynic, Kogan. Tell me, when did Secker say he and his pal first came across Wally?”
“They don’t know the exact time. Neither carries a watch. But they think it was between nine and ten on Wednesday night.”
“So they didn’t suspect anything when he was still there in the morning, but when they came back the second time and he hadn’t moved, they investigated.”
“I just said that.”
“I’m just getting things straight in my head. What else did you learn from Secker?”
“They described you hanging around in the park yesterday.”
“What else that is useful, I mean.”
“I told you everything.”
“Try again.”
“Okay, they took forty bucks off him before they carried him outside. They’re entitled. Even if I was Wally’s sole heir, I figure they had it coming. Wally didn’t need it.”
“Did you know that Wally knew about the cellar under the pavilion?”
“Come on, Mr. Cooperman. Everybody in town knows about that place. It’s shelter, dry and away from the wind. If it gets a little high in the summer, it’s only because the school kids use it as a bathroom. None of the guys sleeping rough use it as a john.”
“Are you surprised to hear that Wally was probably killed in there?”
“First of all, I ask myself, who’d want to kill old Wally in the first place.”
“Kogan, I know. Try to answer the question.” I was losing patience again, and Kogan was squirming because he had trouble doing anything in a straight line. He thought a minute.
“I never went there with him. I never heard of Wally going there. Wally didn’t like the smell and I don’t blame him.”
“And you knew nothing about the forty dollars.”
“Hell no. And he had fifty the day before. He hadn’t had a wad like that in ten years. Not since we found a bunch of arrowheads and told a guy up at Secord University. He gave us a hundred dollars to split. Found them at the bottom of the escarpment near DeCew Falls, framed and mounted in a glass case, but we took ’em out and …”
“Never mind about that. Do you remember telling me about Wally getting that fifty from Ruth Geller? Wally told you on Tuesday.”
“Yeah, we’d just cut into a can of …”
“Forget the cat food. Try to remember what Wally said.”
“He said … Hell, Mr. Cooperman, I told you once. I don’t remember any more. Just that we were coming into money. He mentioned this Queen Street lawyer’s wife. The one who’s disappeared. Not the wife, I mean the lawyer.”
“Kogan, you’ve been a lot of help.”
“And I don’t care about the forty bucks those guys ripped off. I mean, they found it, didn’t they?”
“Kogan, you’ve got the heart of a capitalist under that necktie somewhere.”
“Of course I have. You think I’m some sort of Commie bum?”
“Get out of here, if you want me to hold on to my sanity.”
Kogan got up and walked to the door. Here he turned and asked, “You got any more assignments for me, chief?” I threw an outdated copy of the Pocket Criminal Code at him but missed.
TWENTY-ONE
Pia Morley’s apartment was in a high-rise at the north end of James Street. In Grantham, a high-rise is anything over five storeys. This had eight and I pushed the button that carried me up to the penthouse. If the word penthouse once meant something special, I couldn’t read it in the layout of Pia’s place. It looked like every other apartment I’ve ever seen in Grantham: the usual low ceilings and galley kitchen. I suspected that there wasn’t much room to entertain in the bathroom. There were compensations however: the balcony space looked generous and I counted lots of doors leading somewhere. Even if half of them were closets, it was a bargain. As soon as I saw the furniture in the living-room, I knew it was going to be tough going back to either one of my rented rooms.
Pia let me in when I rang from below and got the door when the elevator deposited me. She was wearing a velvet housecoat that looked tied with a belt but probably wasn’t. She motioned me to the chair that had flowers embroidered on a blue background. It was like sitting on a work of art. She settled into a generous couch with a large floral pattern. Behind her on the wall were framed pictures of classical building façades. There were three on each side of the fake fireplace, one above the other. The gilt mirror with an eagle on top gave the final blow. This was a very interior-decorated room. And when I thought about it, I couldn’t imagine Pia giving the required time to swatches of fabric and patches of paint. I wondered whether she could even give me the name of the chocolate-bar colour of the walls. I’d seen brown walls in a garage once, but never in a fancy apartment.
No sooner had she sat down than she was up again getting me a rye and water, weak on the rye and heavy on the water. She poured a mineral water for herself and sipped a Grand Marnier on the side. She sat down again and lit a cigarette with the piece of evidence Alex said he had removed from the scene of the crime. I didn’t know where to start, but I was getting used to that. I never seemed to have a list of questions percolating in my head. I knew that a couple of hot tap-water questions would hit me as the interview got going. I hoped.
“It’s good of you to see me, Mrs. Morley. I’ll try not to overstay my welcome.”
“Let’s cut the crap right at the start. Call me Pia, and you’re Benny, right? I heard that they call you Benny.”
“People of my generation. People like Pete Staziak, people like Alex.”
“Okay. I know you knew about that. You want to know about me getting molested by my camp counsellor when I was nine? Or should we keep to the present? You want to know about when I was a drug addict for two years? If you’ve got the time, I got the time.”
“I’d like to know why you went to see Nathan Geller last Friday night.”
“Is your drink strong enough? There’s hardly any rye in there.” It was a straight evasion, but she did it with polish. “I’m glad you’re not the type who waits for the yard-arm to come over the poop deck. I’m a true democrat about drink: I’ll drink anything, anytime.” I gave her an appreciative grin made specially for the occasion and was about to try again when she tried another line: “I thought you were being paid to uncover Larry Geller’s whereabouts. Are you taking on the whole family now?”
“You don’t think Nathan’s death and Larry’s taking off are related?”
“It only happens that way in books. In real life the strangest coincidences are just coincidences. It makes for a tidy world when everything is related to everything else. That’s why people are so frightened of strangers; there’s no chance of coincidence with them.” I didn’t follow what she was saying, but I was of half a mind to ask her to explain, when it hit me it was just talk to keep me from business.
“I don’t know about that. But, maybe you can help me to get unconfused about your name. Who was Morley and where does Pia come from?”
“Pia? It’s Italian. My family’s Italian. At least my father was. Morley comes from Barry Morley, my first husband. 1 married him when I left Alex. Like I told you, I spent the next two years in orbit. I was stoned all the time and when I finally came down I landed on my derrière and a decree nisi. Unless I think about it, I can’t even remember what he looked like. I was not all that discriminating in those days.” She lit a second cigarette with the restored monogrammed lighter and blew smoke at the imitation fireplace. I joined her. “Then, I met Glenn. He helped me straighten up my act. I’ll always love him for that. But I couldn’t live with him. Sometimes I think I shouldn’t live with anybody.” She was watching the smoke drift between us. “I was straight with Glenn. I told him up-front, ‘I’m a mouthy, aggressive, angry woman. Don’t think you’ll change me, because you can’t.’ He married me anyway and found out I was right. Sid’s the only man I’ve ever known with balls. He’s like an old ad in the magazines for piston rings or something: ‘Tough; but oh so gentle.’ That’s Sid. When I moved in with him, I never thought it would last. I gave it three weeks. I said to myself, ‘Live it and see what happens.’ I’m still here and I can’t wait till he gets home.”