Lullaby

'No.'

'Any idea why not?'

'Well, she's older than Scott, maybe he wasn't too keen on having his mothermeet her.'

'How much older?' Meyer said.

'Well, she's pretty old,' Strothers said.

'Like what?' Meyer asked. 'Thirty? Forty?'

His expression still said nothing.

'Close to it, that's for sure. She's got to be at least twenty-seven, twenty-eight.'

'What's her name?' Carella asked.

'Lorraine.'

'Lorraine what?'

'Greer.'

'Her address?'

'I don't know. Someplace down in the Quarter. We went by taxi from Scott's apartment.'

'But you don't remember the address?'

'No, I'm sorry.'

'What does she do, do you know?'

'She's a waitress. Wants to be a rock star.'

Strothers shrugged elaborately, rolled his eyes, and then grimaced, making it abundantly clear what he thought her chances were.

'What time did you get to her place?' Meyer asked.

'Maybe a quarter to one? Something like that.'

'You left Scott's apartment at a little past midnight . . .'

'Around twenty after.'

'And you got downtown at about a quarter to one.'

'Yes.'

'And what time did you leave Miss Greer's apartment?'

'A little after five. Some of the people were already having breakfast.'

Meyer asked the big one.

'Was Scott Handler with you all that time?'

'Yes.'

'You're positive about that?'

'Well . . .'

'What is it, Mr Strothers?'

'Well ... we were together when we left his apartment, of course . . .'

'Of course.'

'And we were together when we got to Lorraine's place . . .'

'Yes?'

'But it was sort of a big party there, you know . . .'

'Did you lose track of him, is that it?'

'Well, Dorothy and I sort of drifted off, you know . . .'

'Uh-huh.'

'So we were sort of... well . . . out of it, you know, for maybe . . . well, an hour or so.'

'By out of it . . .'

'In the bedroom, actually.'

'Uh-huh. From when to when?'

'Well, I'd say maybe from around one o'clock to maybe two-thirty or so.'

'So then you don't really know for sure that Scott Handler was there all that time.'

'Well, he was there when we went in the bedroom and he was there when we came out, so I've got to assume . . .'

'There at one o'clock, and there at two-thirty.'

'Well, a little later than that, maybe.'

'Like what?'

'Like maybe three.'

'Uh-huh.'

'Or even three-thirty. I guess.'

'So, actually, you were out ofit for two and a half hours.'

'Well, yeah. I guess.'

Which would have given Handler plenty of time to have run back uptown.

'You said she's a waitress,' Meyer said.

'Scott's girlfriend? Yeah.'

'Did she mention where she works?'

* * * *

Lewis Randolph Hamilton was pacing the floor.

'You hear this?' he asked Isaac.

Isaac had heard it. Fields had just told them both.

'You're sure it's the same cop?' Hamilton asked.

'The same,' Fields said. 'The one shot Herbert and James and was ready to shoot me, too, I hadn't lain down the bat.'

'Together in this bar, huh?'

'Las Palmas. On Walker.'

'Sitting together in this bar, talking like old friends.'

'Like brothers,' Fields said.

'Now what do you suppose little Joey was telling the man?' Hamilton and.

Isaac looked at him meaningfully.

Hamilton walked to Fields and threw his arm around his shoulder.

'Thank you, Andrew,' he said. 'You were wise to back off when you did. Forget little Joey for a while, okay? Forget little José for now.'

Fields looked at him, puzzled.

'You don't want him done?' he asked.

'Well, now, Andrew, how can you get near him, man? With fuzz growing on him? No less fuzz that has looked you in the eye and knows you?'

Fields was suddenly concerned. Was Hamilton blaming him somehow? Was Hamilton saying he had fucked up? The way James had with the ball bats?

'They didn't see me, Lewis,' he said. 'Neither one of them. Not the spic not the cop neither.'

'Good,' Hamilton said.

'So if you still want me to dust him . . .'

'But what has he already told the cop?' Hamilton asked.

* * * *

A fairy tale.

Kling was almost embarrassed to report it to the lieutenant.

This was the story according to Herrera:

A ship was coming in on the twenty-third of January. A Monday night. Scandinavian registry, but she was coming up from Colombia. There would be a hundred kilos of cocaine aboard that ship. Normal purchase price would have been fifteen to twenty-five thousand a key, but since the posse was taking delivery on the full shipment, the price was a mere ten grand per. A kilo was two point two pounds, ask any kid on the block. A million dollars in cash would be exchanged for two hundred twenty pounds of cocaine. That was a lot of coke, friend. That was a great big mountain of nose dust. On the street, that huge pile of flake would be worth twelve and a half million bucks.

So far it sounded within the realm of reason. The normal return on a drug investment was five to one. The return here would be twelve and a half to one. So, okay, the stuff was being discounted.

But this was where the brothers Grimm came in.

According to Herrera, the posse had made arrangements for the cocaine to be delivered to an address right here in the city, which address he didn't know as yet, but which he would find out for Kling if Kling made sure the posse didn't kill him in the next few days. The million dollars was supposed to be turned over at that time, after the customary testing and tasting. That was where Kling and his raiders would come in, busting up the joint and confiscating the haul - as soon as Herrera found out where delivery would take place, of course.

'Of course,' Kling said.

He was wondering what was in this for Herrera.

He didn't ask him as yet.