He moved away, came back in a moment with a glass of beer with a neat collar.
“Anything else?”
“I want to talk to you,” Larry said.
The bartender leaned a little closer. “I speak English,” he said. “I understand it, too. But I guess you don’t. I’m busy. I haven’t got time to talk Do you get it now?”
“This won’t take long,” Larry said “I was in here last night. I talked to you. Remember?”
The bartender’s brown face was expressionless. But his lively brown eyes looked wary.
“I get paid for tending bar,” he said. “I serve hundreds of drinks every night. I don’t look at the people who buy the drinks. I just look at their money. And you owe me a quarter for that beer, bud.”
“You must remember me,” Larry said. “You asked me if I wanted to meet someone. I told you I had a fight with my wife and was anxious to get home. Don’t you remember that?”
“No. I got trouble enough without listening to other people’s. I never seen you before.”
“Any trouble, Sam?” a quiet voice said.
Larry looked around and saw a solidly built man standing behind him, looking at the bartender. He had black curly hair, swarthy cheeks and white even teeth. His expression was one of amiable curiosity, but he had the kind of face that could become hard and savage in an instant. He was dressed carefully in a midnight blue suit, a figured white shirt and blue tie. Except for the too-wide shoulders and too-pinched effect at the waist, and the extra couple of inches of white handkerchief showing from his breast pocket, his clothes were in excellent taste.
The bartender said, “no trouble, Mr. Tonelli. The guy’s just gabby and I’m busy.”
Tonelli’s face lost its amiable expression. “Sam,” he said, “that’s no way to talk to our customers.” He sat down on a stool beside Larry and smiled. “What’s the trouble, pally? Just feel like talking, eh? Well, I’m a good listener.” He put a hand on Larry’s shoulder and gave it a little pat. “What’s on your mind?”
“I don’t feel like talking,” Larry said. “I just want to clear up something. I was in here last night. I talked to the bartender. Now he says he don’t remember me.”
“So, that’s it,” Tonelli said. He looked thoughtful while he undressed a thin cigar and wetted one end slowly. When it was drawing well he glanced through the smoke at Larry. “Now this isn’t anything to worry about. Sam here serves dozens of people every hour. You can’t expect him to remember everybody. But what of it? You didn’t come back just to see if he remembered you.”
“That’s right,” Larry said. “I came back here to find out about a girl.”
“Ah!” Tonelli smiled genially. He removed the cigar from his mouth with manicured fingers and made a little O with his lips. His expression was amused. “So that’s it. Now what about this girl? Did you meet her in here?”
“Yes. The bartender introduced us.”
“Not on your life,” Sam said.
Tonelli raised his eyebrows. “A little difference of opinion.” He patted Larry’s shoulder. “How about it?”
Larry looked at the bartender. “He introduced us. She was sitting one stool away and he bought us both a drink, told us we ought to get along well together.”
“And did you?” Tonelli smiled.
“The guy is crazy,” the bartender said.
“Now, now,” Tonelli said soothingly. “Let’s not argue about it. The customer is always right. Now about this girl. Supposing you did meet her here. Supposing Sam just doesn’t happen to remember. What about it?”
Larry wet his lips. He didn’t know what to say. But he knew the bartender, Sam, was lying. And that gave him a little assurance.
“Now,” Tonelli said, “look at it this way. You met a girl in here last night. Tonight you’re back asking about her. That means a couple of things. She stood you up for a date tonight and you want to find her. Or she rolled you last night, or gave you a run around, and you’re out to square it up. That’s the reason guys look for dolls, take it from me Pally. They either love ’em, or hate ’em. Now which is it, with you?”
“I don’t know,” Larry said.
“Well, what did she look like?”
“A tall blonde. Good clothes, good shape. That’s all I noticed.”
“Only a perfectionist would look for more,” Tonelli grinned. “But I don’t remember any dames like that in here. What about you Sam?”
“Never,” Sam grunted.
Tonelli spread his hands palms-up and shrugged. “I guess you’re wrong, Pally. You must have been in some other joint. Better try somewhere else.”
Larry felt he was fighting shadows. Shadows that could hit back when they were ready. Then he remembered something.
“Wait a minute,” he said. “I can prove I was in here. I talked to one of the twenty six girls. She’ll remember me.”
Tonelli shrugged. “What will that prove? Maybe you were in here. I never said you weren’t. But if it will make you feel any better that’s fine.”
Larry turned on the stool and looked at the girl’s behind the green felt twenty six tables. There were three of them. They were all pretty. They were all blondes.
Corinne had been a brunette.
“Well?” Tonelli said.
“She’s not here now,” Larry said. He turned back and looked helplessly at Tonelli. “Her name was Corinne.” Tonelli frowned for a moment and then drummed his finger tips on the bar. “Corinne?” He shook his head and looked doubtfully at Larry. “That’s a blank,” he said. “Maybe some dame by the name of Corinne worked here. Maybe two or three years ago. But not since then.” He shook his head and then smiled. “That should make you feel better. Now you know you’re in the wrong joint. It happens all the time. Guys come in here looking for dames they met in Detroit or St. Louis. They get mixed up, have a few drinks, and they lose track of places and time. I’ve seen it a dozen times.”
Larry felt a cold nausea in his stomach. The shadows were dancing around him, grinning and smirking. Waiting for their chance. And then he wondered if he was crazy.
“You never had a girl in here by that name?” he persisted.
Tonelli looked at the end of his cigar and shook his head.
“And you never saw a tall, well dressed blonde in here?”
“That’s a pretty general description,” Tonelli said. “I wouldn’t give you a definite answer on that. But it seems pretty sure you didn’t meet anybody in here like that last night.”
He patted Larry on the shoulder. “Go home and get some sleep, Pally. And forget about this thing. I think you had a few extra drinks last night and got a little mixed-up.”
Larry stood up. His hands were shaking.
“Thanks,” he said. He walked out.
Chapter VI
Outside a big man in gray clothes moved away from the wall and fell in step beside him. It was Meyers.
“Can’t let well enough alone?” he asked.
“How did you know where to look for me,” Larry asked dully. But it didn’t seem important.
“Your wife called me. Told me what you had in mind. So I thought I’d drop around and see that you didn’t get liquored up again and cause us more trouble.”
“I wasn’t drunk,” Larry said.
“Meet any dead blondes?” Meyers asked.
“Go to hell,” Larry said.
“Talk that way and I’m liable to slap you one,” Meyers said, without rancor.
“I’m supposed to be crazy,” Larry said. “Nutty as a fruit cake. Why bother about me? Why tail me around?”
“Just trying to keep you out of trouble,” Meyers said. He took Larry’s arm. “My car is over here.”
The car was parked at the corner of Canal and Madison under a NO PARKING sign. The traffic cop grinned at Meyers.