“Not at all,” she said. “He laughed. Changed the subject.”
“To what topic?”
“‘You are so beautiful, Sonny.’” Deep sigh.
“Was he effeminate?”
“Nyo,” she said. “I’d say nyo.”
“You’re not sure.”
“Yes, I’m sure, definite nyo. Dyale was not girly, just a sensitive guy.”
“Helpful.”
She winked. “Not like a nyormal man, eh?”
I laughed.
“Another way he was different,” she said. “Very neat and clean, always smelled fresh. And no toys. I don’t talk about sex toys, I mean fast car, big watches, big TV, big stereo. Stevie likes the toys.”
“Dale didn’t own any of that.”
“Dyale had nyothing. Futon for sleeping, jeans and sweaters in the closet, nyo real food in the ’frigerator, just juice and water, a backpack, a locker.”
“A locker?”
“A green locker. From the army.”
“Dale told you he was a veteran?”
“Cyaptain, five years.”
“Where’d he serve?”
“Germany. He fixed tanks.”
“Mechanical.”
“Good with his hands,” she said. “One time he fixed my styove, the pilot light. Also, the toilet. Twice, the toilet.”
“We’re talking about your apartment on West Thirty-fifth.”
She flicked a red nail against her goblet. “Ah-lex, I was very, very lonely in the big house, Stevie was working all the time with the little nurses. Roland had a nyew building, I was doing the play, why go back to Long Island every night?”
“You got yourself an apartment, then you got Dale one.”
“I like to help, too.” Smile. “I’m talking to you.”
“I appreciate it. So-”
“How long are you going to be in the city, Ah-lex?”
“Leaving tomorrow.”
She clucked her tongue. “You come back a lot?”
“From time to time.”
“It’s a good city,” she said. “Always excitement.”
“Where was Dale living before he moved into Roland’s building?”
“Hotel.”
“Do you remember a name?”
“Never knyew a name,” she said. “Dyale told me it wasn’t nice. I said, Guess what, I have a solution for you. I talk to Roland, Dyale moves in next to me.”
“What else did he tell you about himself?”
“That’s it.”
“What about his family?”
“He said he didn’t have a family.”
“Why not?”
“The parents died. That’s why he moved to the city.”
“From California.”
“California?” she said. “Washington, D.C.”
“That’s where he told you he was from?”
“He talked about the capital, all the politicians lying all the time. Maybe he was a politician, too, eh?”
“Before moving here, he lived in San Francisco.”
“He never talked about California.”
“Did he mention any sisters or brothers?”
“He said he was an only child.” Smile. “Another tale?”
I nodded.
“Dyale, Dyale, Dyale,” said Sonia Glusevitch. “See what I mean about trusting?”
“What else did he tell you?”
“I just said nothing else, Ah-lex. You didn’t have cheese, it’s good.”
I bit off a corner of the cube. Rubbery and stiff around the edges. “There’s nothing else you can tell me about Dale?”
“Mostly, I talked and Dyale listened. He was a good friend when I needed a good friend. And now maybe he killed someone? Who?”
“Could be several people.”
She flinched. “I was alone with him so many times. He was always nyice.”
“Helpful,” I said.
“So helpful. The most helpful man I ever met.”
She left to go to “the girl’s room,” returned moments later with her jewelry removed, less makeup, hair pinned up.
Looking plainer but younger. “You didn’t move,” she said, remaining on her feet. “Not an inch.”
“Worried I’d steal the silver?”
She laughed. “You are leaving tomorrow? Morning or night?”
“Early-morning flight.”
Eye flicker. “Have a good trip, Ah-lex.”
Extending her hand.
I said, “If you don’t mind, just a few more questions.”
She sighed and sat. “Now you want to talk about the Safrans, right? Roland said you think Dyale killed them.”
“Would that surprise you?”
“Those two,” she said. “Who knows about people like that?”
“People like what?”
“Always like this.” She made a sour face. “Sloppy, messy, like they don’t wash. Dyale said they were like roaches.”
“Pests,” I said.
“Dirtying Roland’s property, not being fair to Roland. The way they treat the dog.”
“They were cruel to their dog?”
“Dyale said they never walked it, the dog made mess inside.”
“Dale was inside the Safrans’ apartment.”
Her mouth slackened but her eyes got tight. “This is the fyirst time I think about that.”
“Dale and the Safrans didn’t get along,” I said. “No reason for him to be there.”
“Whatever,” she said. “Roland nyever asked Dyale to help him, nyever.”
“Roland wanted to make sure you told me that.”
“Roland is not some gangster. In Belarus he was a hospital clerk, helped old people get medicine.”
“The night the Safrans disappeared, they went to a play downtown. Was Dark Nose Holiday still running?”
“Running.” She giggled. “More like limping. We had four days.”
“Did the Safrans attend?”
Slow nod.
I said, “Dale invited them.”
“I say why, he say why not be nyice?”
“Did they enjoy the show?”
“Don’t know.”
“Did you see Dale with them after the show?”
“Don’t know,” she insisted. “I was taking off my makeup. It takes time.”
“Dale had already left.”
“Yes.”
“Ever see the Safrans again?”
Long silence. Head shake. “My God. Dyale.”
“Was Dale in any other productions after that?”
“Nyo.”
“How’d he spend his time?”
“Mostly I was in Long Island. I use the apartment for when I don’t want to drive back.”
“Did Dale have a job?”
“He said he was going to look for one but not now, he had money. From the parents, just a little – that was a lie, too?”
“He inherited more than a little,” I said. “Once he left Roland’s building, there’s no record of him working anywhere. What kind of work did he say he’d look for?”
“He didn’t – ah, I think of something else. He said he was going to travel.”
“Where?”
“The world. Like it is one place. I said, Dyale, trust me, the world is not one place, it is little boxes of people who hate each other and kill each other and no one likes anyone different. Do you want to go to Belarus and see why I left? He said, No, Sonny, I mean the great cyities. Paris, London, Rome. I asked why he never went to the great cyities when he was cyaptain in Germany. He said the army kept him too busy. But maybe he wasn’t in Germany, eh?”
“That would be my guess,” I said.
“All lies,” she said. “Okay, so what else is new?”
“Do you have any pictures of him?”
“I don’t kyeep souvenirs.”
I asked for a physical description. The picture she painted – big, hefty, bald – matched everything Roland Korbutz had said.
“Brown eyes,” she added. “Soft eyes. Sometimes he wore glasses, sometimes contacts.”
“This may sound strange, but did he ever dress in women’s clothing?”
“Not on the street.”
“You’re not surprised by the question?”
“At Dark Nose, one of the gyirls – she played Systema – was big, size sixteen, eighteen. Once in a while Dyale would joke around.”
“About her size?”
“No, no, the clothes. He put it on, then a wig, talked in a high voice. Very funny.”
“Goofing around.”
“What, he is weird that way?”
I shrugged.
She said, “This is a weird sexy murder?”
“Hard to say what it is.”
“Oh, boy… I guess I am lucky. Dyale was always nice to me, but who knows, eh? I am tired, now, Ah-lex. Too much talk.”