Billy was the cop. Billy mumbled something and showed Karen his clean white teeth, then busied himself attending to the dark-haired girl who was now on her feet but still sobbing. And that left me.
Strip him of dry socks, or good boots or anything you need, notch his dogtags in his teeth, roll him in a blanket and wait for the boys from graves-registration who wore cleaner fatigues on which you could still see the herringbone twill pattern. Only this was different. This wasn’t Korea.
“Bert’s talked about you a lot, Mr. Frey.”
I muttered something and tried to figure out how to tell her. Then she surprised me.
“I’ll be frank with you, though. We’ve only got a small concession in Tolliver’s and, well, you’ve heard the old expression about three being a crowd. Don’t misunderstand. If Bert has his heart set on you working here, that’s that. I thought you’d like to know before you start it would be an unnecessary expense, that’s all. Now will somebody tell me what’s going on here? What happened to Sheila?”
Sheila must have been the dark-haired girl. The cop had her in tow now, patting her back and stroking’ her hair and telling her to take it easy.
One of the almost-white eyebrows arched high and furrowed Karen’s broad forehead. “Something bad? Did we have a fire in our concession? I always told Bert some of that equipment would burn like tinder. I don’t see any fire engines.”
“No fire.”
“Then stop playing guessing games with me. If you’ve got something to say, say it.” Karen was neither angry nor arrogant. Haughty, you’d call it. Bert had been a quiet, bookish guy who belonged in the Infantry about as much as he belonged in Coney Island. I began to wonder how he’d hit it off so well with a haughty blond who would have towered over him in her high heels, who could outstare him, out-talk him and — looking at the strong curves of her body — very possibly outfight him.
“I don’t think this is the time or place,” I said.
“I don’t care what you think. If you don’t tell me what’s the matter, someone else will. You’re not exactly winning friends and influencing people on our first meeting, Mr. Frey.”
“All right. O.K.” We had an interested audience. Pleasure-seekers. They riled me right then. So did Billy-boy and Karen. I still felt like hurting someone else because I should have been drinking over old times with Bert. I said, “They just carried Bert out of Tolliver’s. He was dead.”
Karen’s deep blue eyes got big. She brushed a stray lock of hair back from her forehead where it had been matted with the sultry heat, opened her pocketbook and took out a silver cigarette case. I offered her a light and she took it and inhaled without saying anything. I wished she’d scream or rant or throw a tantrum.
“I knew it,” she said so low I hardly heard the words.
“So did a guy named Ben Lutz,” I shouted. “That makes two of you. But Bert probably didn’t know it because Bert’s dead. Was he murdered? Is that what you’re trying to say?”
“If he’s dead he was murdered, Mr. Frey. Please leave me alone.”
“What do you mean, you knew it?”
“I said leave me alone!”
Billy had finished with the dark-haired Sheila. He tapped my shoulder and I told him to keep his hands to himself again. He said, “You’re coming down to the precinct with me, Frey.”
“Yeah? What for?”
“For what you did to the basket. For disturbing the peace. For anything I please.” Billy whispered the last part of it. I was the only one who heard him.
“I wasn’t disturbing the peace,” I said. “Was Bert murdered?”
“I can’t say anything about that,” he told the crowd importantly. “It might have been an accident. Might have been suicide. Might have been murder. That’s for the coroner to say. Ready, mister?”
Another cop poked his head out of a prowl car at the curb. “Do I shut her or leave her overheat, Billy? It’s a hot day.”
I bent and tied my shoelaces. I was feeling nasty. I wanted to rile him. When I straightened up I butted his chin with my head and heard his teeth click together. “I’m terribly sorry, officer,” I said.
He stuck a handkerchief between his lips and prodded me tentatively toward the prowl car. “Damn you…”
I looked back hoping Karen would at least show some signs of crying. She merely crushed out her cigarette and turned to walk inside Tolliver’s. She had long legs and a lovely behind but right then I hated every part of her.
CHAPTER TWO
DOWN AT the precinct on West 8th, the desk sergeant listened to Billy’s report. The desk sergeant was bald and sweating profusely, even on the top of his head. His uniform was darkened under the armpits and across his chest and his hands left big wet stains when he lifted them from the surface of the desk. “How about it, Mr. Frey?” he asked me.
“Sort of guilty,” I admitted. I’d calmed down plenty. I wanted to get back to Tolliver’s on the double, although I wasn’t sure what I’d do when I got there. “That is, I did open the basket and look inside. I’m sorry about that, sergeant. I shouldn’t have, but we were buddies in Korea and I—”
“Marines?” the sergeant wanted to know.
“Army. Third Division.”
“If it was the Marines I would have thrown the book at you, Frey. I saw some action on Guadalcanal the last time. We did the fighting, the Marines got the press. I’ll bet it was tough in Korea. I’ll bet it was the same way, though.”
I grinned at him. “I’m just glad to be back, that’s all.”
“You shouldn’t go poking your nose into police business. Leave an address where we can call you.”
Billy was finger-combing his wavy blond hair again. “You mean he can go?”
“I mean he can do anything he wants, Drake.”
Billy’s lips started to curl but he forced them into a smile. “I’m sorry you don’t see things my way, sarge.”
“I’m sorry we wear the same uniform, kid. Get back to your beat now.”
“You see that they keep those wrappers off the clean sand,” I told him again and winked at the sergeant. We got along fine.
“Good luck, Frey,” he said. “If you’re going to be around Tolliver’s awhile keep your nose clean. We don’t want any trouble.”
“Neither do I, sergeant,” I said, and went out to look for some.
On my way back to Tolliver’s I passed Ben Lutz’s bar and decided to follow a teen-aged couple inside. The boy had his arm around the girl’s waist, his fingers dropping down over her wagging backside. When they reached the bar they had to settle for sarsaparilla after they couldn’t convince Ben they were eighteen. The girl pouted but the boy seemed relieved.
“Hello, Ben,” I said.
He looked at me and his eyes said he wasn’t happy with what he saw. He waved the head off a glass of tap beer with a plastic wand and busied himself over some clean glasses. I tossed a fifty-cent piece on the bar and left the change there for some refills.
“You wanted me to warn Bert about something, Ben. Care to tell me what?”
“No.” Ben drew a beer for himself.
“You left in a hurry when you found out he was dead.”
“Umm.”
“But you said you had some business over at Tolliver’s. Your missus wanted you to tell them something which got the both of you all hot and bothered for different reasons. Any connection, Ben?”
“Are you a cop?”
“No, but I can talk to the cops. Tell me or tell them, either way it will come out in the wash.”