He also thought she was a dynamo.
He wondered when the dynamo would run down, but the dynamo kept right on discharging electrical bolts and buying gifts for Cousin Percy and Grandmother Eloise, and Kling trailed along like a dinghy tied to a schooner in full sail, mixing his metaphors with reckless abandon.
"You should see what I got you," she told him.
"What?" he asked.
"A gold-plated holster for your ridiculous weapon."
"My gun, you mean?" he asked.
"And a carton of soap for your dirty mind."
"I'll bet I could make 2nd/Grade in ten minutes just picking up shoplifters here," he said.
"Don't pick up any who are young or blond."
"Claire…"
"Look at those gloves! Only $2.98 and perfect for…"
"Cousin Antoinette in Kalamazoo. Claire…"
"As soon as I get these gloves, darling."
"How do you know what I was going to say?"
"You want to stop all this nonsense and get some drinks, don't you?"
"Yes."
"Just what I had in mind," Claire said. And then, being in a gay and expansive mood, she added, "You should be delighted. When we're married, you'll have to pay for all this junk."
It was the first time the subject of marriage had come up between them and, being towed as he was, Kling almost missed it. Before he became fully aware of the miracle of what she had said, Claire had purchased the $2.98 gloves and was whisking him along to the roof garden of the store. The roof garden was packed with matronly women who were bulging with bundles.
"They only serve those triangular little sandwiches here." Kling announced. "Come on, I'll take you to a shady bar."
The shady bar he took her to was really not quite so shady as all that. It was dim, true, but dimness and shadiness are not necessarily synonymous.
When the waiter tiptoed over, Kling ordered a Scotch on the rocks and then glanced inquisitively toward Claire.
"Cognac," she said, and the waiter crept away.
"Are you really going to marry me someday?" Kling asked.
"Please," Claire told him. "I'll burst. I'm full of Christmas cheer, and a proposal now will just destroy me."
"But you do love me?"
"Did I ever say so?"
"No."
"Then what makes you so impetuous?"
"I'm sure you love me."
"Well, confidence is a fine quality, to be sure, but…"
"Don't you?"
Claire sobered quite suddenly. "Yes, Bert," she said. "Yes, Bert darling, I do love you. Very much."
"Well then…" He was speechless. He grinned foolishly and covered her hand with his and blinked.
"Now I've spoiled you," she said, smiling. "Now that you know I'm in your power, you'll be unbearable."
"No, no I won't."
"I know you policemen," she insisted. "You're brutal and cruel and…"
"No, Claire, no really, I…"
"Yes, yes. You'll take me in for questioning and…"
"Oh Jesus, Claire, I love you," he said plaintively.
"Yes," she said, smiling contentedly. "Isn't it wonderful? Aren't we so lucky, Bert?"
"You were lucky," the man said.
Gonzo looked at him sourly. "Yeah? You think so?"
"You could have taken a fall. How much were you holding?"
"About an ounce. That's not the point. What I'm trying to tell you is that this is getting hot, you see?"
"We want it to get hot."
"Listen, friend, hot is hot, but getting my own ass in a sling is another thing."
"You weren't nabbed, were you?"
"No, but only because I happened to be on my toes." Gonzo lighted a cigarette, and then exhaled a cloud of smoke. "Listen, don't you understand what I'm saying?"
"I understand perfectly."
"Okay, okay. This guy was a dick. And he was sure as hell looking for me! That means they're on to me some way, and that means they may know what happened in that room with Annabelle."
"It doesn't matter what they know."
"You keep saying that. Okay, play it cool. I'm saying we're in this pretty deep now, and I say let's get it over with. Make your goddamn call, do what has to be done. Get it over with."
"I'll make the call when I'm ready," the man said. "I want to go up and look at the pigeons first. This cold weather…"
"You and your goddamn pigeons," Gonzo said.
"Pigeons are good," the man said simply.
"All right, look at them. Tuck them in. Do whatever you want. But call Byrnes, will you? Let's square this thing away. Remember, I got nothing to do with this but…"
"You've got a lot to do with it!"
"Nothing! That's what I'm trying to tell you. You made me a lot of promises, okay, I don't see nothing happening. All I see is bulls looking for me. Okay, what happened to the promises? What happened to your big idea? Goddamnit, who was it told you Byrnes' kid was a junkie in the first place?"
"You, Gonzo."
"Okay. So how about it? When do the promises pay off?"
"You've got Annabelle's trade, haven't you?"
"Peanuts!" Gonzo said vehemently. "You laid this out like big time. Okay, where's the big time? Didn't I do everything you said? Didn't I risk my neck setting up the Hernandez girl? You think it was easy getting her to agree to lie?"
"Yes, I think it was easy. I think all you had to do was to flash the twenty-five dollars."
"Yeah, well, it wasn't all that easy. The guy was her brother, you know. And she sure as hell didn't figure he was getting measured for a coffin. Anyway, he was a nice kid. That part of the idea stunk."
"It was the only way to do it."
"You coulda done it plenty ways," Gonzo said, "but I don't even want to talk about it. I don't know nothing about murder, nothing. Annabelle and his sister are your headaches. That's another thing, you know? Why'd you hafta cut…"
"Shut up!"
"Okay, okay. All I'm saying is this. That goddamn 87th is wise to something, and I got to protect myself. I ain't taking a fall for you or nobody else. If that dick starts giving me trouble—well, don't think I'm going along with him, friend. Nobody's going to work me over in no goddamn squad room."
"What'll you do, Gonzo? If a cop tries to take you in?"
"I'll kill the son of a bitch," Gonzo said.
"I thought you didn't know anything about murder?"
"I'm talking about these fancy wash jobs you figure out. I'm clear out of that mess, friend. All I want is what I was promised. For giving you the lead in the first place, and for setting up the Hernandez girl. Without me, you never woulda…"
"You'll get everything you were promised. Do you know what's wrong with you, Gonzo?"
"No, tell me. I'm dying to hear what's wrong with me."
"You still think small time. You're playing with something that's big time, and your mind is still laying on the garbage heap."
"Well, your mind is up in the clouds. Congratulations. Excuse me for being in the garbage."
"Start thinking big, you fool! Once I explain to Byrnes—"