Hail to the Chief

'Anyone in your gang named Big Anthony?'

'Why, yes,' Nesbitt said.

'Know where we can find him?'

'Have you tried his house?'

'If you're referring to the apartment he shares with his mother, at 334 North 38th, yes, we've tried his house.'

'I guess he wasn't there.'

'That's right.'

'I don't know where he is,' Nesbitt said, and picked up the spoon again. He was dipping it into a melting scoop of strawberry ice cream when Carella said, 'Does he have a driver's license?'

'Who? Big? Sure, he does.'

'What kind of car does he drive?'

'He doesn't have a car.'

'But the gang has a car.'

'No, we don't have a car.'

'Do you have a pickup truck?'

'Yes, we have a pickup truck,' Nesbitt said. 'You'll excuse me, Officer, but I'm not sure I understand where this line of questioning is going to.'

'Stick around,' Kling said.

Nesbitt smiled. 'I wasn't going no place, Officer.'

'That's right, you weren't,' Kling said. 'Not till we're through with you.'

'Of course,' Nesbitt said, 'I know my rights, and—'

'Save it,' Kling said curtly.

'I was going to say that maybe you ought to start advising me of them. I mean, if this is going to be a big interrogation scene here, then how about—?'

'This is a field interrogation, and your rights aren't in jeopardy,' Kling said. 'What kind of pickup truck do you own?'

'A Chevy.'

'What year?'

'Sixty-four.'

'Where is it now?'

'I don't know which one of the members has it right this minute,' Nesbitt said, and smiled. 'We're all allowed to drive it when we need it. All of us who've got licenses, of course. We're a law-abiding club.'

'Who was driving it last time you saw it?' Carella asked.

'I forget.'

'Try to remember.'

'Why is it important?'

'It may have figured in an armed robbery,' Kling lied.

'Really?' Nesbitt said. He shook his head. 'I think you've got the wrong truck in mind.'

'Greenish-blue, sixty-four Chevy with a Confederate flag painted on the driver's side.'

'Both sides,' Nesbitt said.

'The garage attendant only saw the driver's side,' Carella said, picking up and amplifying Kling's lie.

'Gee,' Nesbitt said, 'maybe somebody stole our truck, eh, Toy?'

'Maybe,' Toy said, and slurped up chocolate soda from the bottom of the glass.

'Because none of our guys, you see, would go holding up no gas station.'

'But it does sound like your truck, doesn't it?'

'Oh, yeah, it sounds like it, all right. But it can't be, you see. Unless, like I said, the truck was stolen. We usually park it in the empty lot on Dill, near the clubhouse. Maybe somebody stole it, and then later went and stuck up a gas station.'

'That's possible, Steve,' Kling said.

'Yes, it's possible,' Carella said.

'Sure, that's what must've happened,' Nesbitt said. 'I'd better get back to the clubhouse and check on it. There's supposed to be a man watching that truck at all times.'

'Big Anthony's mother said he was out of town,' Carella said abruptly.

'Yeah, well, she hardly ever knows where he is,' Nesbitt said, and smiled.

'She seemed pretty certain about it'

'Well,' Nesbitt said, and spread his hands in a gesture indicating Big Anthony's mother was not a competent or reliable witness.

'Said he left the apartment Wednesday night. Told her he might be gone a week or so.'

'That's news to me, all right,' Nesbitt said. 'Officers, I have to tell you that's news to me. I'm president of this clique, and most of the members keep in touch with me concerning where they're going or not going. That's not a rule, you understand, they ain't required to keep me informed. But they do, and I usually know where they are. And Big never said a word to me about going cut of town.'

'His mother said he was going to Turman.'

'Yeah? Across the river? Well, that's news to me."

'The reason we're so curious about Big Anthony is that the gas station that was held up happens to be in Turman.'

'Officers,' Nesbitt said, 'I think you're lying to me. I don't know why you're lying, but I think you are.'

'That makes us even,' Kling said.

'Me? Are you talking about me?' Nesbitt said. 'I never lie. I make a practice of always telling the truth.'

'Good, so start telling it now,' Carella said.

'I've been telling it all along.'

'Where's Midge?'

'I don't know anybody named Midge.'

'Where's Big Anthony?'

'I don't know. If his mother says he went to Turman, then maybe that's where he is, though his mother is a little nuts, and I frankly wouldn't trust her as far as I can throw her. But if she says he went to Turman, then who knows? Maybe for once in her lifetime she got something right, who knows?'

'Where in Turman?'

'He didn't even tell me he was going to Turman, so how would I know where he was going in Turman?'

'Have you heard from him since Wednesday?'

'Nope.'

'Isn't that a little odd?'

'It's not a requirement that everybody has to tell me every time he's going to the bathroom,' Nesbitt said. 'I got good people, and they're free agents. They know I'm the president, and what I say goes, but they don't have to report to me every ten minutes.'

'We're not talking about ten minutes. We're talking about three days. Are you trying to tell us that one of your members has been gone for three days, and you don't know anything about it?'

'That's not only what I'm trying to tell you, it's what I am telling you.'

'We think Big Anthony and Midge are together.'

'Impossible.'

'Why?'

'First of all, who's Midge? If I don't know her, how would Big know her? And second of all, Big has a girl friend, and she would get very irritated if he was fooling around with some other chick. Isn't that right, Toy? Wouldn't she get very irritated?'

'Yeah,' Toy said, 'she would get very irritated.'

The two detectives were watching Nesbitt intently. They had given him enough rope and he had hanged himself, and now they simply watched him silently, waiting for him to realize that the trap had sprung, and the noose had tightened around his neck, and his feet were dangling in the air over the scaffold.

'What's the matter?' Nesbitt said. 'What are you looking at?'

Neither of the detectives answered.

'Must be a staring contest,' Nesbitt said, and picked up his spoon. 'This is all melting,' he said to Toy, ignoring the detectives.

'How do you know she's a girl?' Carella said.

'Who? Who're you talking about now?' Nesbitt said.

'Same person. Midge. How do you know she's a girl?'

'You told she was a girl. You said you were looking for a girl named Midge.'

'We said we were trying to locate somebody named Midge. We didn't say she was a girl.'

'I figured she was a girl,' Nesbitt said, and shrugged.

'What do you figure Chingo is?'

'A boy.'

'But you figured Midge was a girl.'

'That's right.'

'Just like that, huh? Midge is automatically a girl.'

'Automatically.'

'Okay,' Carella said, 'we're going to level with you, Randy,' and then immediately told another lie. 'We're looking for Midge because we think she was an accomplice in a crime we're investigating.'

'What crime is that?' Nesbitt said.

'A routine mugging. We think Midge and two boys hit an old lady on Peterson Drive.'