“Allison certainly has interesting friends,” Gregory told me.
Allison smiled at me in the mirror. “Gideon was an officer in the Navy or something.”
“A sergeant in the Army,” I said.
“Indeed?” Gregory seemed genuinely surprised. “Would you believe it, I’ve never spoken to an enlisted man before. I was beginning to think the Army commissioned everyone these days. Did you serve in Korea, Mr. Frey?”
“Yes, I did.” I shifted my weight around uncomfortably on my haunches and decided to sit down on the floor. The boxer growled but stayed put.
“Don’t mind Shamus,” Gregory said. “He won’t hurt you.”
Allison laughed, down deep in her throat, as deep as the boxer’s growl. “Don’t you believe it, Gid. That dog would bite your arm off if Gregory said so.”
“But I won’t, Mr. Frey. Allison and Shamus just cannot seem to hit it off.”
“Shamus,” I said. “That’s kind of a strange name….”
“Shamus is my private eye, you see.”
Allison found it very amusing. This time the laughter bubbled out of her lips, tinkling with music I hadn’t forgotten. It was the kind of sound that makes you perk up your ears and that must have gone double for Gregory, who had to depend on sound for a lot of things we use our eyes to see.
When Allison offered me a cigarette from a gold case with a single blue jewel at its center I noticed the simple wedding band on the customary finger. She saw me staring at it so she said easily, “I’m sorry, Gid. I forgot to complete the introductions. This is Gregory Tolliver, my husband.”
I declined the cigarette but Shamus snapped at Allison’s hand and she withdrew it quickly. “Tolliver?” I said. “Say, wait a minute. Are you here for the inquest?”
“That is correct,” Gregory Tolliver told inc. “I take it you are somehow concerned?”
“You must be the Tolliver who owns Tolliver’s Funland,” I said unnecessarily. “I’ll be darned.”
“It is merely a hobby with me, Mr. Frey. I have diversified interests scattered over the metropolitan area which take up all of my time, but when we first visited Funland, Allison was so taken with the place that she insisted—well, you know women. Allison handles many of the affairs at Funland for me, drawing her own personal income from it.
“To get back to the inquest, though, I hardly think Mr. Archer’s death was an accident, Mr. Frey. I have utterly nothing to base the contention on, of course, but of the three possibilities — barring death from natural causes which is of course precluded — I favor murder.”
“Gregory bothers himself over trifles all the time,” Allison explained.
“My dear, murder is no trifle.”
“I mean, you don’t know it was murder, darling. You’re only guessing. I didn’t mind driving you here, but I do think we ought to have a chauffeur.”
Tolliver clucked his tongue. “The back of the car is for Shamus. It is either a Chauffeur or you, my dear. Since I wouldn’t have married you if I did not find your company far more pleasant, we have no chauffeur.”
He couldn’t see his lovely wife, not with his eyes. He used his fingertips. He ran them slowly over her hair, down her brow and the fine Grecian line it formed with her nose, across her lips while she made a small kissing sound, then her chin and her throat. The fingers lingered on the firm, curving breasts, sculpting them anew for the thousandth time, dropped to the flat stomach, to the lap and thighs. A blind man could take certain liberties. Hell, Allison was his wife. Still it made me boil and then it made me angry with myself. Jealous of Allison after three years? A fat lot of good the mud of Korea did me.
I saw Allison’s face in the mirror. Beautiful. Carved in marble it would sit on a pedestal in all the best museums. But not the faintest flicker of expression touched the marble. Chalk up a change of character for Allison Tolliver, I began to think. Then I changed my mind. Allison had donned the pokerface for me, but couldn’t maintain it. She was sitting sideways in the front seat, facing Tolliver. His fingers passed from view after a time. Then Allison’s lower lip trembled. She sucked it in and nibbled on it. A low sound stirred within her, faint and faraway. She leaned toward Tolliver who withdrew his seeing hand, patted her shoulder with it and smiled. I saw that smile in the rear-view mirror. It said maybe he knew how it was with Allison but he didn’t care because he had no chauffeur and probably no butler and had a rigid monopoly on Allison’s time, so it was fine men could stir her so easily since he did all the stirring.
Tolliver said, “You must come out and visit us soon, Mr. Frey. I’m sure you and Allison will want to talk over old times.” That didn’t jibe with the way I’d figured things, not at all.
“That’s a wonderful idea,” Allison said. “Our house is out at Port Washington, Gid. You can take the Long Island Railroad or drive.”
“Well, I’m pretty busy.”
“You’re not that busy.”
Damn her, she could do plenty of stirring herself. And brother, I was really going to hate myself if I found three wasted years hadn’t helped me at all. “I’ll think about it,” I said. “We’d better go on up to the inquest.”
Tolliver climbed out of his side of the car without help as Allison slid across the seat and joined him in the rain, opening a plaid umbrella. I got out the back and stood aside barely in time. Shamus lunged out after me and nuzzled against Tolliver’s surrah silk trousers while he sought and found the harness. Shamus growled and Allison scampered to the other side of Tolliver. They made a fine looking family, the man, the woman and the dog. But Allison must have been thinking three’s a crowd.
I followed them through the rain, seeing images on the wet sidewalk and again on the glass panels of the revolving door. There was Sheila, grinning coltishly and gently massaging me with Unguentine. There was Karen saying let’s not be nasty and showing me her rare vintage smile. And there was Allison, twisting her crazy barbs in my heart after three years.
CHAPTER SIX
SO WE HAD ourselves an inquest. King Kellum, a huge hulk of a man with a Mickey Mouse voice. Yes sir, I came running as soon as I heard. Say listen, you don’t think I’d wait? The man in the ambulance said he was dead. Such a horrible accident. No sir, I didn’t see any signs of a struggle. About 12:05. I remember the time because…
Bull-necked Janus Soolpovar, rooster-strutting to the fore. We run a good, honest bathhouse at Tolliver’s. People get their money’s worth, see? Yes, we passed inspection. No, it’s not unusual for all that steam to be available. After all, the room opened into others. If there is anything I can do to help, anything at all, any little thing… Yes, sir. My opinion? Well, I offer it humbly, you understand. I am an expert on bathhouses, not suicides. Suicide? Did I say suicide? Well, you want to know what I really think? Bert Archer — the deceased — was acting peculiar the last few days. What I mean, he seemed… sort of far away. Thinking of other things. Glum, you know. I sure can’t prove it was suicide. Well, you asked me. It’s the summertime, see? Don’t let them give you that crap about in springtime and what a young man’s fancy does…. I apologize to the ladies in the room… it’s the summertime, see? Sure you can feel it in a place like my bathhouse in the summer tune. The deceased maybe was spurned or something. He’s a war veteran, see?… oh, you know? Well, kind of edgy and all that and then a dame comes along and says they’re through. It wouldn’t be the first time. You’re welcome.