I sipped my weak drink and waited, and within a few minutes there was a blast of music, the suspended platform was spotlighted and Belle Dee danced.
She was tall, and her long blonde hair swaying in rhythm to the music made her seem more graceful than she was. Her spectacular, gyrating body was probably the siliconed product of science, and the amazing thing was that she managed to keep everything from going in the same direction at once, maybe for fear the building would shift.
She finished her dance to loud, enthusiastic applause punctuated by shouts, whistles and a few remarks she pretended not to hear. Ten minutes later she appeared at my table in street clothes, a surprisingly plain blue dress with a sash belt and flat shoes. "I don't know you," she said.
"You know Victor Talbert. I'd like to talk to you about him." I waved a hand for her to sit down.
"Police?"
"No." I caught the attention of a waitress and bought Belle Dee a drink-one I'd never seen before, tall and tropical and made with gin. "My name's Alo Nudger," I said. "I'm a private detective, and I promise that nothing you tell me will be used to harm Victor."
"He's not married, is he?"
"No. He's involved indirectly in what I'm working on. How long's it been since you've seen him?"
She trained almond-shaped blue eyes on me as if she'd just noticed me across the table; there was an emptiness in them; they were doll's eyes. I didn't think she was going to answer, but she did. "It's been… three, four months, maybe."
"You were seriously involved with him, weren't you?"
"We had it going between us, but we weren't serious."
I thought about asking her what the hell that meant, but decided against it. She must have seen the puzzlement in my eyes.
"Vic wasn't serious about me," she said, "and he knew I wasn't about him. I was interested in fun and he was interested in what interests all men."
I nodded. "An honest arrangement. Did Talbert have any enemies you can remember?"
She laughed-a musical laugh, but it was the blues. "Vic was too much of a square head to have any enemies. He played life right out of the rule book, an upstanding, ambitious citizen. If you cut him he'd bleed apple pie."
"Then he wasn't into drugs, that sort of thing?"
"Too straight for that, straight but nice. He didn't even drink heavy."
"How'd you meet him?"
"Oh, something like the way I met you. He came in here one night, wanted to talk to me. Next night he was back. I liked him, but I saw he was gonna get hurt. He was too afraid of failing at anything-he wanted to be a success so bad it burned. The hell with that kind of stuff."
I smiled at her. "He doesn't sound like your type."
When she smiled back I could understand what Talbert had seen in her. She had that bony symmetry beneath velvet skin that inspires casting directors. "Don't get the idea Vic doesn't know how to have a good time," she said. "I think he has to cut loose now and then, uptight as he is."
"Did he come in here often?"
"Quite a bit. But not in the last few months."
"Didn't you wonder where he was?"
"I didn't care. That was our arrangement."
I felt almost a cruel desire to shock her, to instill some feeling into her beauty. "Talbert is dead. He was murdered."
Immediately I regretted the bluntness of my words, but I honestly didn't know if I'd reached her or not. She lowered her head so I couldn't see her eyes, and a tightness crept into her features. Then she raised her head and looked directly at me. "No kidding!"
"Any idea who killed him?" I asked.
"None. He must have been mistaken for somebody else."
I ordered us each another drink. "Did you know any of his friends?"
She shook her head no. "It was just me and Vic."
"Did he ever mention Joan Clark?"
"Not that I can recall."
"What about the name Congram?"
Something like recognition came into her eyes. "That's.right, yeah. Vic knew somebody named Con-gram; really thought he was important, from what I gathered. But he only mentioned the name a few times. I didn't pry." She drained half of her fresh drink. "Dead, huh?" I wasn't sure, but I thought her eyes glistened with more than their usual moisture. Or the light might have done her a favor.
The band, which had been taking a break since Belle Dee's dance, blasted out with another discordant specialty.
"They're lousy," Belle Dee said, "but lousy with a beat. Listen, I've got some of Vic's stuff at my apartment. What am I gonna do with it?"
I swirled the ice in my glass to appear disinterested. "What kind of stuff?"
"Clothes, mostly. Just stuff he left there."
"Mind letting me look it over?"
"I don't know if I should."
"I'll bet you do a lot you shouldn't."
She laughed her blues laugh. "You're right; it doesn't make any difference to me. I can let you look at the stuff when I get off at midnight." She finished her drink and stood, attracting eyes. "I gotta get back to work."
I told her I'd see her at twelve.
She smiled and turned toward the crowded dance floor, disappearing in a blast of flashing blue light and drums.
I made my drink last another twenty minutes and left.
The hours remaining before it was time to meet Belle Dee I spent in my motel room, lying on my back in bed and trying to figure out where events were taking me.
How was it going to set with the law when they found out I'd withheld the information that Branly was actually Victor Talbert, that I'd gone through some of his effects? I knew that eventually it would all have to come out; I didn't think even Carlon could keep that from happening. I hoped he could; I hoped I wasn't being cynical enough.
I thought about Belle Dee and then Lornee. The coldness grew in my stomach, and blood pulsed in my ears. I concentrated on the fifty thousand dollars.
At ten thirty I phoned Dale Carlon and filled him in on my activities, and I asked him if he could smooth the way for me to talk to someone at First Security Trust about Talbert's loan application. Carlon told me he'd see what he could do and then call me in the morning.
It was almost twelve thirty when Belle Dee fished a glittering jeweled key ring from her purse and let us into her apartment on Lam pan Street.
We were in a small living room, furnished glass-topped and chrome modern. A jaggedly designed tapestry hung on one wall above a long black-vinyl sofa that couldn't have been more than six inches off the floor. Beneath the clear glass top of a coffee table before the sofa was a plastic flower arrangement.
Belle Dee tossed her purse onto a chair and went into the kitchen. She returned in less than a minute with two glasses containing generous measures of bourbon on the rocks and held out one of the drinks for me. I accepted that and her offer to sit on the low black couch.
"Vic's things are in the other room," she said. "I'll be right back."
I sat and watched her walk into what I assumed was the bedroom. The low sofa was more comfortable than it looked, and there was a pleasant, faintly perfumed quietness about the apartment that was relaxing.
Belle Dee returned carrying some folded clothes, an attache case and a pair of shiny black wing-tip shoes. "This is all Vic left, Mr… Nudger?"
"Call me Alo."
"That sounds foreign."
"Sometimes I think it is."
She handed Talbert's possessions down to me then sat next to me on the sofa while I examined them. I was disappointed to find that the attache case, a metal-trimmed, expensive model, was empty but for a black knit tie. The clothing promised little more-a wrinkled pair of slacks, neatly folded undershirt and a white windbreaker. The pants pockets were empty, but when I felt inside the jacket pockets my fingers touched a thin, stiff rectangle of cardboard. I withdrew my hand without it, set the folded clothes aside and finished my drink.