“Aren’t you curious about my interest in him?” Mark said.
“Not in the least.”
“Barny Nolan is a murderer,” Mark said.
The words were brutal and harsh in the cheerful room. Linda moved one hand slowly to her throat.
“You’re not serious,” she said.
“That’s not my idea of a funny line,” he said. He leaned forward and met her eyes directly. “I’m sorry if I shocked you. I didn’t mean to. But the facts are these: last night Nolan shot and killed a gambler named Dave Fiest. He shot Fiest in the back, without any credible provocation.”
“He... he tried to escape,” Linda said.
“Sure, sure, that’s Nolan’s story. But Fiest had money on him when he was shot, a lot of it. And that was gone when the other cops got to the scene.”
“Why are you telling me all this?” She picked up a cigarette and lighter from the coffee table. Her voice was strained. “Why... why don’t you go to the police?”
“Nolan is the police,” Mark said. “That complicates things, you see. If he weren’t a cop, I’d take my story to the Lieutenant at the division and he’d carry oh from there. But I can’t go to him with the same story about Nolan.”
“Why not?”
“You probably won’t understand. But cops are very sensitive about having other cops called murderers and thieves.”
She sat down and tucked her feet beneath her in an oddly little-girl pose. He felt slightly sorry for her as she stared at the smoke curling from her cigarette.
“Well, why are you making it your business?”
“That’s a good question,” he said. “Maybe I want to be a hero, like the reporters in movies. I don’t know, but it’s something I’ve got to do. I can’t sit still and let Nolan get away with this. I’d like to skip it, let it go merrily to the devil, but I just can’t. Did you ever have that experience?”
“No,” she said shortly. She had recovered her poise now, and was defiant. “How do I know there’s any truth in what you’re telling me? I don’t think Barny would commit a coldblooded murder, and if you knew him you’d understand why. He’s sullen at times, easily hurt and moody, but that doesn’t make him a criminal. He’s lonely and he feels, oh, I don’t know, that he doesn’t belong anywhere.”
“He belongs in jail.”
“This is preposterous,” Linda said, angrily. “Did you think I’d have the stolen money tucked away in the bosom of my dress? Or that I’d help you lay some sort of trap for Barny?”
Mark shrugged. “I hardly know what I hoped to find out. At any rate, I loused things up neatly.” He glanced at her, frowning. “I can’t make up my mind about you.”
“No one asked you to.”
“I know, but it’s intriguing, anyway. I can’t figure out which one of you is reaclass="underline" The mid-Western kid with the nice father or Nolan’s girl.”
She stood again, more decisively this time if that were possible, and walked to the door. “Will you go now, or shall I call Barny and tell him you’re here and won’t leave?”
“I’ll go,” he said, sighing.
“I’m delighted,” she said, and hurried out and returned with his hat.
“There’s just one thing,” Mark said. “Has Nolan given you anything to keep for him? Any kind of a package?”
“I wouldn’t tell you if he had.”
“Meaning, I take it, that he hasn’t. Very well.” Mark took his hat and she opened the door. “There’s still one more thing though.”
She looked up into his eyes, a faint smile on her lips. “I can guess what that is. You’re going to ask me not to tell Nolan you were here.”
“That’s right. You must be psychic.”
“I just knew you’d be afraid of him.”
“Of course, I’m afraid of him,” Mark said, shortly. “That’s logical, isn’t it? I think he’s a murderer. And I’m afraid of murderers. It’s something Freudian, I suppose.”
He walked out and she closed the door and stood with her back to it a moment, listening to the quick beat of her heart...
Her first number went badly that night. She sat at her dressing table afterward, smoking a cigarette and hating Mark Brewster thoroughly and completely. Why had he done this to her? Irritably she freshened her make-up, and decided as she studied her pale cheeks that she’d tell Barny about it, and ask him to make Brewster leave her alone. This was a situation he could handle perfectly.
Feeling slightly better, then, she changed her evening gown for a severely simple black dress and stepped into black suede sling pumps. She was somewhat annoyed with herself for making this dinner date with Barny’s friends. They might be wonderful people, but she didn’t like the compromising aspects of such an evening, nor did she like dashing in and out between shows. She put on a single strand of pearls, checked her stocking seams, and then, feeling harried and upset, left to meet Barny.
He was waiting for her at the small oval bar in the front of the club. They said hello but very little else until they were in his car driving out Walnut Street to West Philadelphia.
Then Nolan glanced at her and said: “Well, how did the interview go?”
“Not very well.” She hesitated a moment, remembering what Mark Brewster had told her about Barny. Then she decided it was just preposterous. “Does he have anything against you?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, he’s hardly a member of the Nolan Marching and Chowder Club,” she said, glancing at his strong heavy profile. “That’s why he came to see me, I discovered. To talk about you. It wasn’t very flattering.”
“He talked about me, eh?” Nolan said quietly.
“Yes. Does he have any grudge against you?”
“You might put it that way. I want you to tell me what he said. Everything, understand?”
“Well, he seems very curious about you.”
“You’ve made that clear by now,” Nolan said. “Let’s have the details.”
“I’m not sure I can remember everything,” Linda said; and suddenly she was sorry that she had brought up the subject.
Nolan drove along in silence for a few blocks, watching the right side of the street; and when he saw a parking place pulled in and cut the motor. It was very dark and quiet along that stretch of the city. Linda started slightly as Nolan turned to her with a twist of his big shoulders.
“Now, Linda,” he said, speaking very slowly and carefully, “I want you to understand that this is important. You’re right, Brewster don’t like me. And he’d like to get something on me. That’s why it’s important you tell me everything he said.”
She had never felt him so close to her before and the sensation wasn’t pleasant. He was staring at her intently, and she could see the tiny purplish veins in his eyes, and his big square teeth glinting in the dashboard light. She felt that he was closing in on her, smothering her with his power and strength; and suddenly she was afraid.
“Go on, kid.”
“He said... he said you weren’t anyone for a girl like me to be seeing,” she said. She didn’t know why she was lying nor why her heart was beating so rapidly.
“What else?”
It wasn’t easy with his eyes on hers, hard and suspicious.
“He said you were... were just a cop, and that you drank too much and chased a lot of cheap women.”
Nolan leaned back and rubbed his jaw. He was silent a moment, studying her delicate profile. “And then he tried to date you up, I suppose?” he said.
“Yes, that’s right. It’s pretty obvious, isn’t it?”
She glanced at him and saw that he was grinning. He pushed his hat back and she noticed the shining band of perspiration across his forehead.
“I told you he was a bum, kid,” he said. “So what did you tell him? Did you give him the brush?”