“Did you know where his money was coming from?”
“Oh, sure! He never made any bones about that. He was proud of himself. Me, I didn’t give a damn, but I thought that he was going to get put away if he didn’t watch his mouth better.”
“Was that the way he always was?”
“At first. But, you know, he changed. From being a bit of a show-off, he became the opposite. After a while, I couldn’t get him to tell me anything.”
“Was that because he was getting into drugs?”
“Maybe, but I don’t think so. By then I was going out with him. No, he stopped talking to me all at once. I mean he still talked. He could talk my head off. But he didn’t talk about the jobs he was doing any more. You know he was breaking into houses in those days?”
“You knew his friend Dave Rogers?”
“Oh, sure, Dave. His name wasn’t Rogers in those days. Yeah, he and Abe went everywhere together. Then Abe started seeing me and Dave got a girl of his own … You know how it is.”
“What did you like about him?”
“Oh, I always went for the tough guys. Gangster types. I liked living the danger at second hand. I still get a kick out of it. I still know a few of the bad boys from Miami. They call me when they’re in town. I guess they liked the way I could keep buttoned up. I never told tales. That’s why it makes me nervous talking about this stuff with you.”
“Can you think of anyone who would want to kill Abe Wise, Paulette?”
“Ever since you called, I can’t think of anything else. You know, there are a lot of bad characters who pick up the hates wherever they go. Abe was never like that. What I liked about Abe was that he loved a good time. He didn’t pretend that I talked him into it the way some of the boys do. He loved being seen with me and showing me off. He got a bigger kick out of it than I did, to tell you the truth. I liked his jokes and the tough guys he always surrounded himself with. Have you ever heard of Frankie Carbo? He used to fix fights in New York and all over …”
She was moving away from the area of my interest again. I knew that Frankie Carbo wasn’t a current crime figure, although I couldn’t remember where or how he’d met his fate.
“What about somebody wanting to kill him, Paulette? I’m not talking about the old days, but about right now.”
“Benny, I don’t see him any more. Not for the last ten years. If it wasn’t for the phone … But people don’t change. I’m sure he still rubs people the wrong way. He has a vile temper. But he tries to keep his business as fair and square as a crooked businessman can. He never went out of his way to buy trouble. Even when he drank, he was a happy drunk, big tipper. Still …”
“Still?” I coached, hoping for a breakthrough.
“Still, Abe was what he was. He did what he had to do. And he did it fast, and as tidy as he could. Like the pro he was. None of the Mafia-style dramatics. That wasn’t his way.”
I heard a noise in the hall followed by the sound of the door being slammed. Before we could both readjust, a redheaded young man with a wedge-shaped face strode into the room. His face was bright with anger.
“Hart! I wasn’t expecting-”
“Shut up, Mother! Just what do you think is going on? What are you doing to me? Can’t you leave me alone for ten minutes?”
“Darling, what are you talking about?”
“Him, for a start.”
“Darling, I told you on the phone about Mr. Cooperman. Mr. Cooperman, this is-”
“The last thing I need is a private eye prying into my life! Get rid of him!” I returned my outstretched hand to my glass.
“Hart, he’s here as my guest.”
“Get rid of him! I want him out of this house!”
“Darling, be reasonable!” I got to my feet. The last thing I needed was a fight with this madman.
“Maybe some other time,” I said to Paulette. When I turned, Hart was standing blocking my way. “Excuse me,” I said and repeated it in the same reasonable tone. Hart remained fixed like a post. Paulette’s face had gone quite white as she felt the conflicting roles of hostess and mother. Hart still hadn’t moved when I looked back at him, so I sat down again, which seemed to confuse him.
“I want you out of here!” he said, not quite facing me. “You have no business mixing in our lives!”
“Maybe you’ll clear a path to the door. I can’t walk through you.” Hart sputtered, then moved over to his mother’s side, as though completing an alliance that had only been hinted at. I got to my feet again.
“Mr. Cooperman, I hope you’ll understand,” Paulette said, her eyes pleading with me louder than her words.
“Mr. Cooperman will keep out of my business, if he knows what’s good for him.” He was gambling on the unlikely possibility that I would knock him down with his mother in the room. I had already decided not to lay hands on him, even mine, unless he touched me first. I collected my hat and coat and left the tender scene to unroll without me.
The dark green Triumph was parked in front of the house. I walked around the sports car twice, taking in as much as I could before marching away up Queen Street, looking for maple buds in the trees overhead. I couldn’t see any. In the bookstore across from the Beacon I went hunting for mysteries at the back of the store. There were a few favourites in paperback, which attracted me. I may have been a little rougher than usual as I pulled them off their shelves and flipped through the pages. I was getting rid of the feelings I carried away from Duke Street with me. Then I saw McKenzie Stewart’s new book, the one I had been reading about. Five copies of Haste to the Gallows were displayed face front. They took up a whole shelf. Very impressive for McStu, I thought. Still, it was in hardcover. I paused in my resolve to buy it, flipping through the pages looking for a flaw. But McStu was a friend, the only local author I knew, although I heard there was one at Cranmer College. I hated buying hardcover books, but since I might run into McStu at any time on St. Andrew Street, I softened and carried the book to the cash.
“You know that this one’s non-fiction, don’t you, Benny?”
“What? Sorry, Sue, my mind was unplugged.” Susan Torres who ran the bookstore usually looked out for me. She put me on to Walter Mosley, John Dunning and William Mcllvanney.
“This newest title by McStu isn’t a novel, Benny.”
“You mean Dud Dickens isn’t in it?” My enthusiasm had developed a slow leak.
“It’s about a real case, Benny. I know you’ll like it because it’s a local story.”
“Great!” I said, “Great!” damning McStu under my breath and passing my plastic to Sue. I wouldn’t even let her put the book into a bag for me. I slipped it into a pocket and returned to Duke Street feeling as though McStu had played an expensive joke on me. The Triumph sports car that had been parked in front of Paulette’s front door was gone. I should have given it a kick when I had the chance. I rang the bell a second time.
Paulette looked relieved when she saw me standing on her threshold. “I’ll bet you could use a drink,” she said. “I know I could.” She backed out of my way and we returned to the back room. Paulette poured shots of Scotch without asking my preference or forgetting what I had in my glass when Hart walked in. I sat where I’d been sitting, looking forward to the Scotch.
“I hear that Hart hates his father. Is there anything in that?”
“If there is, you won’t hear it from me. I try to be as loyal as I can. Hart sometimes tests my patience, as you’ve just seen. You mustn’t let that little drama sour you on the boy. I try to be fair to both the kids, both Hart and Julie.”
“Julie? I don’t understand. Isn’t Julie Lily’s problem?”
“Not when Abe gets on the telephone after midnight. God, I’ve been intimate with all of her problems from diaper rash to the present. Abe spares me nothing. In our divorce settlement, Abe got the phone and he plays it like, like a-a-”