“Sorry to bother you, I’m Detective Kling, 87th Squad, this is Detective Carella, my partner.”
He was showing a shield now.
Kendall was unimpressed.
“Miss Cassidy told us you might still be rehearsing here,” Kling said. “We thought we’d save some trouble if we caught you all in the same place.”
“I see,” Kendall said dryly. “And just what sort of trouble were you hoping to save?”
“Few questions we’d like to ask,” Kling said.
“Tell you what,” Kendall said saccharinely. “Why don’t you and your partner here go out to the lobby together, and have a seat on one of the red plush velvet benches out there, and when I’m finished giving the cast my notes — which I was attempting to do when you interrupted — we’ll all come out there and play cops and robbers with you, okay? How does that sound?”
The theater went suddenly as still as a tomb.
“Sounds fine to me,” Kling said pleasantly. “How does that sound to you, Steve?”
“Sounds fine to me, too, Bert.”
“So what we’ll do,” Kling said, “is go find that red plush velvet bench in the lobby, and sit out there hoping the person who stabbed Michelle Cassidy won’t make California by the time you finish giving the cast your notes. How does that sound to you?”
Kendall blinked at him.
“See you when you’re done,” Kling said, and turned and began walking toward the back of the theater again.
“Just a minute,” Corbin said.
Kendall blinked again.
“The notes can wait,” Corbin said. “What did you want to know?”
Which cued a scene outstanding only for its sheer boredom and longevity.
“You look tired,” Sharyn said.
“So do you,” Kling said.
“I am,” she said.
It was almost midnight. Sharyn had called the squad-room at eleven to say she was in the city…
To any native of this town, there was Calm’s Point, Majesta, Riverhead, Bethtown — and the City. Isola was the City, even though without the other four, it was only one-fifth of the city. Sharyn had called the squadroom to say…
… she was in the city and if he still wanted to have a cup of coffee she could meet him someplace uptown, which is where she happened to be. At St. Sebastian’s Hospital, as a matter of fact. As an afterword, she mentioned that she was as hungry as a bear. Kling mentioned that he hadn’t really eaten yet either, and suggested a fabulous deli on the Stem. At eleven-thirty — fifteen minutes before the shift was officially relieved — he dashed out of the squadroom.
Sharyn was now wolfing down a pastrami on rye.
She licked mustard from her lips.
“I’m glad you called,” he said. “I was going to throw myself out the window otherwise.”
“Sure.”
“What were you doing at St. Sab’s?”
“Trying to get a cop transferred to a better hospital. Right after you called me this afternoon, an officer got shot on Denver and Wales…”
“The Nine-Three.”
“The Nine-Three. Ambulance took him to St. Sab’s, the worst hospital in the whole damn city. I got there at six, found out who was in charge, got the man moved before they operated. Police escort all the way down to Buenavista, sirens blaring, you’d’ve thought the Mayor was in that ambulance.”
“So you were in the city, anyway…”
“Yes.”
“So you called me…”
“Well, yes.”
“… just so it shouldn’t be a total loss.”
“Right. Also, I was very hungry. And I owed you a meal.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“Yes, I did. How’s your hamburger?”
“What? Oh. Yeah. Good. I guess,” he said, and picked it up and took a big bite of it. “Good,” he said.
“Why do you keep staring at me?” she asked.
“Habit of mine.”
“Bad one.”
“I know. You shouldn’t be so beautiful.”
“Oh, please.”
“Why’d you walk out last night?”
“I didn’t walk out.”
“Well, you cut things short.”
“Yes, well.”
“Why?”
Sharyn shrugged.
“Was it something I said?”
“No.”
“I kept trying to figure out what I’d said. All day today, I kept trying to figure it out. I almost called a dozen times. Before I finally did, I mean. What was it I said?”
“Nothing.”
“Tell me, Sharyn. Please. I don’t want this starting on the wrong foot, really. I want this… well… tell me what I said.”
“You said the color I was wearing was good for me.”
Kling looked at her.
“So?” he said.
“I thought you were saying that the color was good for my color.”
“That’s what I was saying.”
“So that started me wondering if the reason you’d asked me out was that I was black.”
“Yes, I know. You asked me…”
“And I started wondering what it was you wanted from me. I mean, was this just de white massa hittin on de l’il house nigguh? I guess I didn’t want to risk finding out that was all it might be. So I thought it’d be best if we just shook hands and said goodnight, without either of us exploring the question too completely.”
She bit into the sandwich again, sipped at her beer, her eyes avoiding his. Kling nodded and took another bite. They both ate in silence for several moments, Sharyn polishing off the sandwich as if she hadn’t eaten in a week, Kling working less voraciously on the hamburger.
“So what are you doing here now?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” she said, and shrugged. “I guess I figured you were really being nice, saying the color suited me, the color was good for me, and that this wasn’t very much different from what you might have said to a blonde wearing black or a redhead wearing brown, or whatever colors it is dat de white girls wears, hmmm?”
She had done it a second time, he noticed. Falling into a sort of exaggerated black English whenever she was saying something he was sure made her uncomfortable.
“And I guess I finally realized you didn’t want anything from me that you didn’t want from any other woman…”
“No, that isn’t true,” he said.
“Which is okay, I mean, vive la difference, n’est-ce pas? What the hell. A man is attracted to you…”
“I am.”
“You don’t go asking is it the color of my eyes, or the color of my skin…”
“It is.”
“… the same way you don’t go asking yourself is it because he’s so white.”
“Is it?”
“I mean, blond hair and light eyes, does he have to be so white? Where are the goddamn freckles? I mean, the first time I date a white man, couldn’t he…”
“Is it?”
“… be a slightly darker shade of Charlie, couldn’t he…”
“The first time?”
“Yes.”
“Me, too. You, I mean. You’re the first black woman I’ve ever known. Getting to know, that is. That is, I hope I’m getting to…”
“Yes, you are.”
“I hope so.”
“I hope so, too.”
“Would you like some coffee?”
“Yes, please.”
He signaled to the waiter.
“Also,” she said, “I thought it was kind of cute, your calling me and telling me you were willing to come all the way out to Calm’s Point again, at midnight no less, for a cup of coffee. Just so we could talk awhile. I thought that was very cute. And you were so persistent, oh my! I thought about that phone call all the while I was driving in to St. Sab’s. I began thinking This is fate, this cop getting shot, my having to drive into the city. It wasn’t meant that we should leave it where we left it last night. I shouldn’t have been so rejecting on the phone, I shouldn’t have dissed him that way. What did the poor guy say, for God’s sake? He said he liked the color of my suit. Which, by the way, is a terrific color for my color…”