"I don't like it-can't stall with him forever, Dick-and in the end we can't pay, he'll- What can you say to him any more, to make him-"
"Listen," said Morgan, trying to sound authoritative, confident (don't let her suspect how you're planning to deal with it, convince her), "it's the money he wants, he's not in any rush to get this thing open in court, that's the last thing he wants. It's his only hold on us, he's not so anxious to let go of it."
"I suppose not. But-Dick, I-I've got to where I just want it over and decided, whichever way. This hanging on-"
"I know, darling, I know. Maybe tomorrow. I'll be right home-half an hour."
Lieutenant Callaghan was a good deal less than mollified to be presented with such small fry as Tomas Ramirez; he had been lying hopefully in ambush for a certain big-time eastern wholesaler, and had-as he informed Mendoza bitterly-had a leash on Mr. Torres-Domingo and assorted friends for some time. What the hell good did it do to pick up a minnow like this Ramirez, who just ferried the stuff across the border in small lots? If Mendoza was interested, they had known about the Maison du Chat for quite a while, and a usually reliable source of information had led them to expect the wholesaler on the premises tonight, to set up a deal with Neddy, Mr. Torres-Domingo being the middleman. At nine o'clock they'd expected him, and so it was very probable that he'd been, maybe, a hundred feet away from the kitchen door when Mendoza's bright boy had got a little too close to the game and flushed it early. And so their chances of getting him now, or even another line on him, were just about nil.
And if Mendoza could remember back seventeen years to when, God help us and if this good-looking redhead here would believe it, he and Mendoza had been in the rookie school together, Mendoza just might recall that one of the first things they'd been told was that there were different divisions within any big-city police force. And that one division was sort of expected to play ball with the others, seeing that they weren't exactly in competition with each other.
"Well," said Mendoza mildly to that, "I suppose I could have checked with you first, certainly if anything definite had showed up-but Ramirez was only one of those vague hunches, you know."
"Sure, sure, we all know Mendoza's hunches! Second sight he's got, maybe a crystal ball, I wouldn't know, our little genius Luis Rodoffo Vicente Mendoza! One look, and he says, that naughty fellow's got a stack of H in his back pocket, and won't my good old friend Pat jump for joy to have a little of his work all done for him! Oh, he's a star, our Luis! Hey presto, and I've ended up with a couple of hired-salesmen punks I could've taken two months ago, instead of the real big boy-and our Luis thinks he does me a favor to give me this Ramirez!"
"Now when did I say so? It's the way the cards fall," said Mendoza philosophically. "These things happen. My crystal ball doesn! t always show me the right picture-"
"That you can say twice," said Callaghan. "Got you in trouble before-got you a bullet in the leg in that Brawley business, and right now, by God, I'm sorry it wasn't in the head! And I'll never know how you hypnotize these respectable, high-class, good-looking women to go round with you." He looked at Alison there in the drafty corridor outside his office at headquarters. "You look like a decent God-fearing Irish girl."
"Only on my mother's side-she was a McCann," said Alison solemnly. "And I think it's sheer surprise, Lieutenant-for any man these days who thinks he can still order us around, the dominant male, you know. By the time we've recovered enough to begin to talk back-"
"It's too late, I know." Callaghan shook his head at her. "You watch yourself. I've got another piece of advice for you, lady-whatever else you do with him's your own business, but don't ever get into a hand of poker with him. And seeing you've done about all the damage you can do tonight, Luis-on headquarters business, that is-I guess you can get out of my sight and take her home."
Mendoza rubbed his nose and said he wouldn't presume to teach Lieutenant Callaghan his job, but he did think that Ramirez-"
"Oh, get out, scat!" said Callaghan. "He's on his way here now, I sent two men after him while you were phoning your bright little boy's wife. I can't hold him on anything, unless one of these two involve him or we find the stuff in his possession-both of which are likely to happen. Not that I give a damn about him, but thank you so much for pointing him out, and now good night to you."
Mendoza grinned at him, said, "?Uno no puede complacer a todo el mundo! -one can't please everybody! Be good, Pat- hasta mas ver," and took Alison's arm down the hall to the elevator. "And now," he added, " la familia Ramirez is due for another shock."
"Yes, poor people. I must see them, to return half the tuition she'd paid, you know. I didn't like to blunder in the very day after, but I thought at the inquest I might have a chance to-"
"You haven't been subpoenaed, you notice. A very routine affair. Maybe twenty minutes-adjourned awaiting further evidence-that's how it'll go. Come if you like, but it'll be very dull, I won't be there."
"I'd like to think that was a non sequitur," said Alison, "but I'm afraid you didn't mean it that way. I suppose that ex-football-star sergeant will represent you. I think I will go. I've never been to an inquest and it's an excuse to take the morning off. Besides, I do want to see the family, only decent."
Mendoza looked at her and shook his head, getting out his car keys. "Occasionally I agree with Pat-astonishing how I seem to acquire these high-principled women."
"That," said Alison sedately, "is a very premature verb." And twenty minutes later, at her apartment door: "Don't forget those stockings. Size "Nine and a half, thirty-three inches, I'd guess it."
"Mmh, yes," said Alison, "and entirely too good a guess it is."
"Women, we never satisfy them-they don't like us too callow and they don't like us too experienced!" He laid a caressing hand round her throat. "I'd said to myself, very gentlemanly this time, maybe next time I'll kiss her good night, but I told you I'm always breaking resolutions… and sometimes even twice-or three times-if it seems like a good idea."
"Once was quite enough," said Alison rather breathlessly, pushing him away, "for three days' acquaintance!"
"So we figure it like compound interest, chica-I'll add up how much it comes to per week."
"Good night, mi villano optimists," said Alison firmly.
He smiled at the closing door; he never liked them too easy.
At about the same time that Alison Weir was struggling with the zipper of the oyster-silk sheath and reflecting that Lieutenant Callaghan's advice about watching herself was an excellent idea, Agnes Browne was standing in the cold dim rooming-house hall, shivering in just her slip and the cotton robe she'd tied round her when Mrs. Anderson called her to the phone.
"You shouldn't've," she kept saying, almost crying. "Hitting a policeman like that, Joe, it's terrible, they right've arrested you-you shouldn't go losing your temper like that."
"Well, they got a nerve, snooping around you just on account you found a body! What the hell they after, anyway? You didn't have anything to do- Listen, Agnes, I don't get it, Rita says there was a guy came up to her after work, another cop, asking about you-I guess she told you-I just got in, had to work late, and when she-"
"Oh, dear," whispered Agnes to herself. "I-I know, she called me.
…" Rita was Joe's sister who worked the same counter as Agnes, it seemed funny to think if she'd got that job at Kress's instead she'd never've met Rita or Joe, and it'd been just chance really-and she couldn't wish she hadn't, but-"Oh, dear." Asking questions about how long had she known Agnes, Rita said, and like that. They must suspect. "I-I don't know what they're after, Joe, but no call for you to get in trouble account of me, it's my own-"