‘The colonel right now is in Washington,’ I said, lighting a cigarette. ‘I’m fine. And you Al?’
‘Well, I guess I’m not getting any younger. But who is?’ Barney shook his balding head. ‘But I’m not grumbling. The tourist trade is starting next month.’ His little eyes lit up. ‘Marvellous people — tourists. They come and talk to me, take my photograph. I tell them things that makes them pee in their pants.’ He gave his shark-like grin. ‘I guess everyone likes to hear scandal.’
Sam came across and planted down a pint of beer and a big dish of the most dreadful looking little sausages that only the devil could have invented. Barney promptly threw three into his mouth, chewed, gulped, and tears rose to his eyes. He swallowed, gasped and drank half the beer.
‘You don’t know what you’re missing, Mr Wallace. Nothing like them. Try one.’
‘No, thank you.’
He threw three more into his mouth and went through the same performance.
‘Wonderful for the digestion.’ He finished the beer and Sam slid across to place a refill.
I waited patiently.
Finally, the sausages and yet another beer finished, Barney released a belch that made the windows rattle.
‘Now, what can I do for you, Mr Wallace?’ he asked with his shark-like smile.
‘What can you tell me about the Black Cassette?’
Barney lifted what eyebrows he had left.
‘A black hangout. Dancing, poor grub, but popular.’
I waited, looking directly at him.
‘No cop trouble,’ Barney went on. ‘The joint was bought by a black about a year ago. He made it into a sort of club. We don’t have a lot of blacks here: most are Vietnamese and Ricans. This joint is a place where the blacks can get together, feel at home, dance.’
‘Who bought the place, Al?’
Barney scratched his throat. It was a sign I had learned to know so I signalled to Sam who came sliding across the room with another beer.
‘These little lovies give a man a thirst,’ Barney said. ‘You’re a swell, Mr Wallace.’
‘Who bought the place?’ I repeated.
Barney took a long pull at his beer glass.
‘A no-good black,’ he said, scowling. ‘How he got the money to buy the joint surprised me. Five thousand bucks for a ten-year lease. My guess is he must have got the money from his pa who used to be a drinking friend of mine. A nice old guy. He’d come down here and talk with me and buy me a beer.’ Barney shook his head and looked sad. ‘Then a year ago, I didn’t see him anymore. An old guy like me misses good friends.’
‘What’s the name of this new owner?’ I asked.
‘Him? Hank Smedley. You don’t want to have anything to do with him, Mr Wallace. He’s tough and nasty, and doesn’t dig interference.’
I kept my face expressionless.
‘The name of his father?’
‘Josh Smedley. He works as the butler to that rich, snooty bitch, Mrs Henry Thorsen. From what I hear, poor old Josh is now hitting the bottle. I don’t blame him. What with his no-good son, his wife quitting him and Mrs T., it’s enough to drive any guy to the bottle.’
‘His wife left him?’
Barney nodded and took another gulp of beer.
‘That’s right, Mr Wallace. He told me about it. The trouble there was Mrs Smedley just couldn’t put up with her son. He was and is a wild one, but poor Josh loved him. He and his wife were always fighting over Hank. Finally, when Mr Thorsen died, they split. Josh looked after Mrs T. and Hanna — the wife — looked after the daughter who came into a load of money left her by her father.’ Barney sighed. ‘The way the rich live! Still I don’t envy them. What with taxes, their children and divorces: not for me. I like the life I live. I’ve no problems.’
‘Good for you. Know anything about the daughter, Al?’
‘Can’t say I do. I heard she was a nut-case. I did hear that when she was around 16 or so, Hank was screwing her. Don’t quote me, Mr Wallace. This was just a rumour. She could be one of the girls who like to be screwed.’ Barney shook his head ‘This is the modern thing. It was different when I was a kid. Then I really had to work for it.’ A sudden crafty look came into his eyes. ‘You interested in Angie Thorsen, Mr Wallace?’
‘More interested in Hank Smedley.’
‘Well, Mr Wallace, be careful how you tread with that one. He’s dangerous: wild and vicious.’
‘Angie had a brother: Terrance. Know anything about him?’
Barney looked down at his empty plate, then thoughtfully at me. I took the hint.
‘Go ahead, Al,’ I said.
‘This is my breakfast and my lunch,’ Barney said and gave an elaborate signal to Sam who rushed over with another plate load of sausages and a pint of beer. ‘A man of my size has to keep his strength up.’ He popped three of the sausages into his mouth, chewed, grunted and nodded his approval. ‘What were you asking, Mr Wallace?’
‘Do you know anything about Terrance Thorsen?’
‘You could say I know something. He and his pa didn’t get along. Terry walked out and got a room on the waterfront. A sleazy old condo called Breakers, you wouldn’t want to know it. This would be some two years ago. He played a hot piano, so I’ve been told. I never heard him. He got taken on at the Dead End Club which is run by Harry Rich. The boy changed his name to Terry Zeigler. I heard he increased the club’s business no end. The swinging kids were crazy about his playing. He played every night, nine till two, never spoke to anyone. Just played. Then around three months ago, he dropped out of sight. No one has seen him around since then, though I did sort of hear that this Hank poison tried to poach him away, but it would have been hot news if Zeigler had played at the Black Cassette, and that’s never happened. No sir. Not likely.’
I thought it was time to go. I didn’t want Barney to know how much I needed information. I took out my wallet and produced a twenty bill which I slid over to him.
‘Keep your ear to the ground. Hank, Terry and even Angie. OK!’
He gave me his shark-like smile and snapped up the bill the way a lizard snaps up a fly.
‘You know how to find me, Mr Wallace. I’ll listen.’
‘See you, Al.’
I crossed over to Sam, paid the check, then walked out into the steamy humid atmosphere.
I felt my morning wasn’t wasted.
I found Bill, sitting in the car, chewing gum and mopping the sweat off the back of his neck.
I slid in beside him.
‘She shown yet?’
‘Ten minutes ago. I didn’t know if I should follow her or wait for you. She wasn’t carrying the plastic bag, and she took off uptown.’
‘OK. I’ve a raft of information.’ I told him what I had learned from Barney.
‘So we have to go someplace — after we’ve had a beer?’
‘Next stop the Breakers,’ I said. ‘Before beer.’
‘I guessed that,’ Bill said, and began to mop his face.
We found the Breakers condo down a side street. It was a typical dwelling that housed the many workers that went daily to the city to pander to the rich: shabby, with paint peeling, surrounded by small shops that sold anything from fish to panty hose.
The narrow street was crowded with Vietnamese, Ricans, a few blacks, and white elderly women with shopping bags.
Bill found parking space with a struggle, and we walked back to the entrance of the condo.
‘Wait around, Bill. I’ll go talk to the janitor.’
I found the janitor on the basement floor. He was using a broom as if his hands were tender. He was a big, fat, hairy lump of a man, wearing a dirty singlet and dirtier trousers. He leaned on his broom and regarded me.