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     On the other side of the door, as they stood in the dim hallway, Tommy said, “I should have flattened him.”

     “That would have been a real third strike,” Walt said, feeling slightly ridiculous, and depressed.

     “From the way he was acting, wouldn't even let us in the apartment, I'd give odds May's in there!”

     Walt shook his head. “I don't think so. If she was, she certainly heard you shooting off your mouth... and she didn't show herself.”

     “Okay, then what do we do now? I thought with your badge...?”

     “My badge isn't a magic wand! You're making dummy-talk. Even if she was in there, and if I believe what you've told me, she isn't being held against her will. It's not a crime for a woman to refuse to see her husband.”

     “Naw! May wants to see me. No matter what we went through, it was never like that. She'd always want to see me. Or me see her. That Morris knew something. I ought to go back there and beat it out of him.”

     Walt's feeling of depression went deeper. “Talk sense. Then I'd have to collar you. That would be a big help to May.”

     “But maybe Morris would say something first? Okay, we'll play it your way. What do we do beside standing here and talking to each other?”

     The “we” hit Walt like a dull slap in the face. He was annoyed—with himself, at Tommy, and at Ruth. If they had a normal relationship, and she'd been at home with him, Walt would never have gone off on this wild goose chase. The men in the squad room would laugh at him, working on his own time. But mostly he was annoyed with this wiseguy, Morris. Walt had run up against this type of citizen before— lumping cops with thugs. He asked, “Tommy, haven't you any idea where May'd go? No relatives or friends?”

     “Naw. Only relative she has is a cousin out in Tacoma, Washington. All my folks have been dead long ago. As for May's cousin, Helen, she hasn't seen her in years. They send Christmas and Easter cards to each other. You're the detective. Isn't there anything you can do?”

     “Dammit, stop talking like a fool. Let me think before I slap your mouth shut!”

     Tommy shook his head. If his eyes grew hard, his voice was friendly as he said, “Now you're talking like a dummy, Walt. You have plenty of weight on me but there never was an amateur yet who could take a real pro. I... I didn't mean to steam you, and I'm sure glad you're trying to help. But you can understand how I feel. What the hell am I still fighting for, staying with the game. Who did I ever stop a punch for, if it wasn't for my May? Sure, I ain't been no model husband, but I have been in there trying all the time, best I can. Now, when I finally get my break, this has to happen.”

     Walt stared at Tommy's beaten face for a second, shocked to realize Cork was probably about his own age, or a few years older, despite looking like an old man. (He didn't even consider that Tommy might be younger than he.) “May's cousin out in Tacoma, when was the last time they saw each other?”

     “What's she...? At least about fifteen years ago, I guess. Helen is married and settled out there. They exchange greeting cards now, that's all. About the only mail May gets, so she's always showing the cards around.”

     Walt nodded slowly. “May must have shown Morris, the blonde waitress, those cards. Wait here for a moment,” he said, going into a drugstore. Walt was surprised and happy to find Ruth home. Then, as he and Tommy rode the bus to his place, Walt got all the dope Tommy could recall about Helen.

     When they entered the apartment and he could tell Ruth had been home for some time, Walt was ashamed of what he'd been thinking all evening. Ruth looked positively beautiful in her robe, Walt thought, as he introduced Tommy and said, “You see, Tommy's wife has disappeared and, while it isn't a police matter yet, we want to find her before she gets into any more trouble. She may be hurt. I've been fishing around but I think my badge frightens her boss, makes him clam up. Might be a sort of adventure for you if...

     “Wouldn't be no real trouble for you, ma'am,” Tommy said. “I mean no chance of you getting hurt.”

     “What is it you want me to do?” Ruth asked, almost giddy with relief that Walt hadn't brought another woman home.

     “May, that's Tommy's wife, has only one relative, a cousin out in Tacoma. I thought that after we fill you in with the dope on this cousin Helen, you could go to the diner where May used to work, pose as the cousin. Say you just came in, or you're passing through, and wanted to take May back to the Coast with you. I think the boss will tell you where May's hiding. As Tommy said, no risk—we'll never be far away. I realize it's sudden and... Ruth, will you help Tommy?”

MAY CORK

     Lying across the narrow iron bed in the dumpy little room, still wearing her soiled gray waitress dress, May was sick and frightened. The skin around both her badly bloodshot eyes was a deep purple. The inside of her mouth was tender and her ribs felt sore. The actual beating outside the diner hadn't hurt. She'd been far too frightened for pain. Burt had punched May about the face so fast she couldn't believe she was being hit, then sent her to the sidewalk with a blow to where he thought her breasts were. May had rolled out of the way, scrambled to her feet and fled. After she had phoned Butch and he'd brought her fifteen dollars, she had rented this room. But in her panic May forgot to buy food. Now she was afraid to go out to eat. As she was afraid to wash her underthings and dress. The thought of being naked in a strange room terrified her.

     Faint from hunger, May was sick with shame. The Good Lord has punished me, she thought for doing evil. Numbers are evil. Holding out on poor Shorty was cheating him—evil. God is my witness He knows I never did wrong before. Not this kind of evil. But then, one time is enough! What can I do now, without my clothes, money, or a job? God must know I only sinned because it was our last chance for a decent life. Lord, Lord, please let my face heal fast so I can at least go for food without attracting too much attention... maybe find Tom. I feel so unclean. If I could only get back to my room and pack, take the few dollars I have, but Burt will be sure to be watching for me there. Lord, don't let them toss my things out on the sidewalk Maybe Butch will come and...

     There was a soft knock on the door. May sat up on the bed, body tight with fear. The knock was repeated but she didn't move. A woman's voice asked, “May? May, this is your cousin Helen from Tacoma. May, do you hear me?”

     “Helen?” May said, running toward the door, thinking, this is a miracle. Helen is here! But at the door caution caught her, held her hand on the lock. “How did you find me?”

     “I came to New York today and Butch—Mr. Morris—told me where you are. May, please let me in. Everything is going to be all right.”

     May hesitated, and suddenly she felt too weak and sick to care what happened to her. That Helen should find her like this! Opening the door a crack, May saw a tall, well-dressed woman smiling at her. The woman had a large face with a big mouth and almost heavy nose, dark eyes. The woman was alone. The only time May had seen Helen was when they were both nine years old. She said dully, doubtfully, “You're not my cousin Helen, are you?”