“Who?”
“The inspector. The man from Motor Vehicles.”
“I don’t know.”
“He didn’t give you his name?” Kling asked.
“He showed me his credentials, and he said he was here to inspect the cars, and that was that.”
“What kind of credentials?”
“Oh, printed papers. You know.”
“Mr. Coyle,” Kling asked, “when was the last time a man from Motor Vehicles came to inspect?”
“This was the first time,” Coyle said.
“They’ve never sent an inspector down before?”
“Never.”
Slowly, wearily, Meyer said, “What did this man look like, Mr. Coyle?”
“He was a tall blond guy wearing a hearing aid,” Coyle answered.
Fats Donner was a mountainous stool pigeon with a penchant for warm climates and the complexion of an Irish virgin. The complexion, in fact, overreached the boundaries of common definition to extend to every part of Donner’s body; he was white all over, so sickly pale that sometimes Willis suspected him of being a junkie. Willis couldn’t have cared less. On any given Sunday, a conscientious cop could collar seventy-nine junkies in a half-hour, seventy-eight of whom would be holding narcotics in some quantity. It was hard to come by a good informer, though, and Donner was one of the best around, when he was around. The difficulty with Donner was that he was likely to be found in Vegas or Miami Beach or Puerto Rico during the winter months, lying in the shade with his Buddha-like form protected against even a possible reflection of the sun’s rays, quivering with delight as the sweat poured from his body.
Willis was surprised to find him in the city during the coldest March on record. He was not surprised to find him in a room that was suffocatingly hot, with three electric heaters adding their output to the two banging radiators. In the midst of this thermal onslaught, Donner sat in overcoat and gloves, wedged into a stuffed armchair. He was wearing two pairs of woolen socks, and his feet were propped up on the radiator. There was a girl in the room with him. She was perhaps fifteen years old, and she was wearing a flowered bra and bikini panties over which she had put on a silk wrapper. The wrapper was unbelted. The girl’s near-naked body showed whenever she moved, but she seemed not to mind the presence of a strange man. She barely glanced at Willis when he came in, and then went about the room straightening up, never looking at either of the men as they whispered together near the window streaming wintry sunlight.
“Who’s the girl?” Willis asked.
“My daughter,” Donner said, and grinned.
He was not a nice man, Fats Donner, but he was a good stoolie, and criminal detection sometimes made strange bedfellows. It was Willis’ guess that the girl was hooking for Donner, a respectable stoolie sometimes being in need of additional income which he can realize, for example, by picking up a little girl straight from Ohio and teaching her what it’s all about and then putting her on the street, there are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio. Willis was not interested in Donner’s possible drug habit, nor was Wilis interested in hanging a prostitution rap on the girl, nor in busting Donner as a “male person living on the proceeds of prostitution,” Section 1148 of the Penal Law. Willis was interested in taking off his coat and hat and finding out whether or not Donner could give him a line on a man named Dom.
“Dom who?” Donner asked.
“That’s all we’ve got.”
“How many Doms you suppose are in this city?” Donner asked. He
turned to the girl, who was puttering around rearranging food in the refrigerator, and said, “Mercy, how many Doms you suppose are in this city?”
“I don’t know,” Mercy replied without looking at him.
“How many Doms you know personally?” Donner asked her.
“I don’t know any Doms,” the girl said. She had a tiny voice, tinged with an unmistakable Southern accent. Scratch Ohio, Willis thought, substitute Arkansas or Tennessee.
“She don’t know any Doms,” Donner said, and chukled.
“How about you, Fats? You know any?”
“That’s all you’re giving me?” Donner asked. “Man, you’re really generous.”
“He lost a lot of money on the chamionship fight two weeks ago.”
“Everybody I know lost a lot of money on the championship fight two weeks ago.”
“He’s broke right now. He’s trying to promote some scratch,” Willis said.
“Dom, huh?”
“Yeah.”
“From this part of the city?”
“A friend of his lives in Riverhead,” Willis said.
“What’s the friend’s name?”
“La Bresca. Tony La Bresca.”
“What about him?”
“No record.”
“You think this Dom done time?”
“I’ve got no idea. He seems to have tipped to a caper that’s coming off.”
“Is that what you’re interested in? The caper?”
“Yes. According to him, the buzz is all over town.”
“There’s always some buzz or other that’s all over town,” Donner said. “What the hell are you doing there, Mercy?”
“Just fixing things,” Mercy said.
“Get the hell away from there, you make me nervous.”
“I was just fixing the things in the fridge,” Mercy said.
“I hate that Southern accent,” Donner said. “Don’t you hate Southern accents?” he asked Willis.
“I don’t mind them,” Willis said.
“Can’t even understand her half the time. Sounds as if she’s got shit in her mouth.”
The girl closed the refrigerator door and went to the closet. She opened the door and began moving around empty hangers.
“Now what’re you doing?” Donner asked.
“Just straightening things,” she said.
“You want me to kick you out in the street bare-assed?” Donner asked.
“No,” she said softly.
“Then cut it out.”
“All right.”
“Anyway, it’s time you got dressed.”
“All right.”
“Go on, go get dressed. What time is it?” he asked Willis.
“Almost noon,” Willis said.
“Sure, go get dressed,” Donner said.
“All right,” the girl said, and went into the other room.
“Damn little bitch,” Donner said, “hardly worth keeping around.”
“I thought she was your daughter,” Willis said.
“Oh, is that what you thought?” Donner asked, and again he grinned.
“Willis restrained a sudden impulse. He sighed and said, “So what do you think?”
“I don’t think nothing yet, man. Zero so far.”
“Well, you want some time on it?”
“How much of a sweat are you in?”
“We need whatever we can get as soon as we can get it.”
“What’s the caper sound like?”
“Maybe extortion.”
“Dom, huh?”
“Dom,” Willis repeated.
“That’d be for Dominick, right?”
“Yes.”
“Well, let me listen around, who knows?”
The girl came out of the other room. She was wearing a miniskirt and white mesh stockings, a low-cut purple blouse. There was a smear of bright red lipstick on her mouth, green eyeshadow on her eyelids.
“You going down now?” Donner asked.
“Yes,” she answered.
“Put on your coat.”
“All right,” she said.
“And take your bag.”
“I will.”
“Don’t come back empty, baby,” Donner said.
“I won’t,” she said, and moved toward the door.
“I’m going too,” Willis said.
“I’ll give you a buzz.”
“Okay, but try to move fast, will you?” Willis said.