“That goddam little...”
“Sure, but even D’arcy hits it on the button sometimes. I think he’s right. He said you were fussed up this A.M. over some doctor whose wife is missing.”
“I can’t help thinking of Ellen.”
“That’s what I mean. Incidentally D’arcy thinks he’s traced the doctor’s wife as far as some hairdressing shop down near Sunnyside.”
“How do you know so much about it?”
“Oh, I’ve been interested in the Morrow family for a long time,” Sands said, and picked up his glass again. “For about sixteen years, I guess. Get your coat on.”
“What for? I’m not going any place.”
“Yes, you are. I spent an hour and a half looking for you. I told D’arcy that you were out doing some work for me and that I’d pick you up and take you down to Sunnyside. Get your coat.”
“You’re an easy guy to hate, Sands. You’re so goddam right all the time, aren’t you, so goddam sure of yourself.”
Sands said nothing. He never talked about himself, and he didn’t like to listen to other people talk about him. It seemed unreal to him, as if they must be talking about someone else.
He left Bascombe struggling with his overcoat and went ahead to the bar.
The bartender was rinsing glasses. He stopped work and wiped his hands.
“He going with you, Mr. Sands?”
“Yes.”
“Jesus,” Bill said. “You must be a regular one of those guys that the rats followed.”
“A nice description,” Sands said. Great rats, small rats, lean rats, brawny rats...
“Human nature is sure a funny thing,” Bill said. “Take me, how big I am, and take you, how small you are, and here I couldn’t do a thing with Mr. Bascombe, and he follows you like a lamb. You must have plenty muscle that don’t show.”
“Any eight-year-old could knock me off my pins.”
“Jesus, Mr. Sands, you shouldn’t talk like that.” Bill was offended. “It might get around.”
Bascombe came up. He had his overcoat buttoned wrong but he walked straight and his voice had lost its thickness.
“Bye, Billy-boy,” he said to the bartender. “When they kick me off the force let’s make a date in a dark alley.”
“I’d like that fine,” the bartender said thoughtfully.
When the two policemen had gone Bill returned to the glasses. Officially the Allen Hotel had been open all day but it was after dark that business got heavy. Bill had a couple of waiters who came in around seven. When there was a rush on he helped serve but most of the night he spent sizing up the customers and easing out drunks and keeping an eye on the money. At the Allen any bill oven five dollars was automatically considered phony until Bill had passed on it.
Tuesday night was the slowest of the week and only one thing happened that Bill felt Sands should know about. A little ex-con and hophead called Greeley came in with a red-headed fat woman. The woman Bill recognized as a floozie from a house down the street. But it took him several minutes to recognize Greeley. He had on a brand-new topcoat and a new green fedora. But the newest thing about Greeley was his expression. He acted like a millionaire who had to rub shoulders with a rough mob.
“Well, well,” Bill said. “Mister Greeley. Pardon me while I catch my breath. And is this charming lady Mrs. Greeley?”
The woman giggled, but Greeley gave him a sour look and led the woman to one of the tables. Bill followed them.
“If I’d known you was coming, Mr. Greeley, I’d have got out my Irish-lace tablecloth, sure as hell.”
“Champagne,” Greeley said, and sat down without taking off his hat, and coat.
“Teaspoon or tablespoon?” Bill said. The woman giggled again.
Greeley laid a fifty-dollar bill on the table.
Bill did everything to the bill but chew it up, and it still looked good.
When the bottle of champagne was gone Greeley had lost his sour look and was beginning to talk big. Bill stood as near the table as he could and now and then he caught a snatch of Greeley’s talk.
“I don’t want to spend the rest of my life bouncing in and out of Kingston for rolling drunks and picking pockets. Listen, Sue, I’m on to something. You climb on the wagon with me, baby.”
“Sure,” the woman said. “Sure. Anything you say.”
“The kinda life we lead we don’t get respect for ourselves. Something high class, that’s what I got, something classy and steady. Look around this dump, look at it.”
The woman obliged.
“Ain’t it a dump?” Greeley said. “Couple of days ago this was my idea of a big night, getting tanked in a dump like this with a chance to get fixed up after.”
“Well, what are we sitting here for if you’re so high class?”
“Saying good-bye,” Greeley said solemnly. “Saying good-bye to a crappy life like this. From now on you’ll be covered with diamonds.”
“The hell with diamonds. I want a square meal.”
Greeley ordered a couple of hamburgers and another bottle of champagne.
The woman ate the hamburgers, biting on them as if her teeth hurt.
Three soldiers at the bar began to sing and Bill couldn’t hear what Greeley was saying now. But he guessed it was the same kind of stuff. Greeley was leaning across the table being very intense while the woman chewed and watched him with a where-have-I-heard this-before expression in her eyes.
Around ten they got up to go out and Bill noticed that Greeley’s pants were badly frayed at the bottom. He hurried over to the till to test the fifty-dollar bill again.
Greeley saw him and flung him a contemptuous smile. Bill followed him to the door.
“Good night, Mister Greeley,” he said. “You’ll be back, we hope not.”
The woman giggled and said, “Honest, you’re a scream.”
Greeley grabbed her arm. “You never laugh at nothing I say.”
The woman pushed him away coolly. “At you I’m laughing all the time. I just gotta stop myself or I’d die.”
“Good-bye, Wisenheim,” Greeley said to Bill, opening the door. “Come and see me at the Royal York.”
“They still taking on dishwashers? I bet you look cute in an apron.”
A final giggle from the woman and then the door slammed.
Wish my wife would laugh like that at everything I say, Bill thought. She’s got no sense of humor.
He went over to the soldiers. “Better quiet down, boys. I just saw a couple of M.P.s go past the door.”
The soldiers quieted, and Tuesday night went on.
Chapter 5
On Tuesday Edith quarreled with nearly everyone in the house. She began with Andrew, who told her at breakfast time that he was going to report Lucille’s disappearance to the police.
Edith raged and wept. It was too humiliating, it was too shameful, how would they ever hold their heads up again.
Andrew had left without even bothering to argue. Frustrated, Edith turned her anger on Martin. How could Martin go to the office when they needed him, he must stay home, it was his duty...
Directly after breakfast Martin too left the house.
The most violent quarrel was in the evening. Edith was in the living room with Polly and Giles. She suggested that the wedding be postponed.
Polly gave her a long hard stare. “What for?”
“It wouldn’t look right if you were married at a time like this.”
“It wouldn’t look right to whom?” Polly said. “You? Lucille?”
“People will talk.”