Lou and Gladys were both staring at me, pity in their eyes, as I’d trailed off in mid-sentence and got lost in thought, thinking about the train ride. That was going to happen; me going in and out of focus like that.
“You might as well get your minds set,” I said. “I’m going to be out of step for a while. Not long ago I was on a tropical island getting shot at. The comparative peace and quiet of Chicago is going to take some getting used to.”
Lou stepped in my, or his, office and got into his overcoat. “Binyon’s okay?” he said.
“Binyon’s is fine,” I said.
As we were leaving, Gladys called out, “Should I tell people you’re in, if they call?”
I stopped, the door open; Lou was already out in the hall. The abortionist was still in business.
“Why should they even know I’m back?” I said.
“Your friend Hal Davis on the News did a story about you. Or rather it was about your friend Mr. Ross, with you in it. How you’re a couple of heroes who are coming back to Chicago.”
“That cocksucker!”
“Mr. Heller!”
“Gladys, I’m sorry. Forgive that. I’ve got a bad case of serviceman’s mouth, and I’ll try to get over it quick.”
“Yes, Mr. Heller.”
“Good girl.”
“Mr. Heller-did, uh, did you see Frankie over there?”
“Uh, no, Gladys. Sorry. It’s a big war. Why, is he in the Pacific?’
“He’s on Guadalcanal, too, didn’t you know?”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t. He must’ve been one of the Army boys who came in to spell us. Is he with the Americal Division?”
“Why, yes,” she said. The concern on her face was easy enough to read. Specifically, she was looking at gray, skinny, hollow-eyed me and had to wonder about how her husband was faring. She was Mrs. Fortunato now, you see; they’d gotten hitched just before he joined up.
“Will he be all right, Mr. Heller?”
I knew enough not to assure her of that, but I could in good conscience say, “The Island’s a mop-up operation, now, honey. He should be fine. Barney and me did the hard work; all he’s got to do is clean up after us.”
She liked hearing that; she even smiled. For a girl with no sense of humor, she had a great fucking smile. Nice tits, too. It made me feel good to know I could still appreciate the finer things.
Like Binyon’s. My appetite at St. E’s had been lousy, but the corned beef platter (albeit a smaller serving now) in the familiar male-dominated restaurant with its wooden booths and spare decor reminded me of the simple pleasure of good food. In fact, I attacked the plate like a Jap whose bayonet I’d taken away and was using on him. I think I embarrassed Lou. He didn’t say a word through the meal.
I wiped my face off with a cloth napkin. A cloth napkin; ain’t civilization something. I said, “I didn’t eat on the train ride. No dining car, and if you got off when they made a stop you could lose your seat.”
“No explanation necessary, Nate. This is Lou, remember? We go way back.”
Somebody laughed; me, apparently. “I guess two guys who got falling down drunk together as often as we did, in the old days, ought to cut each other some slack.”
“That’s how I see it.”
“I’m goddamn sorry about your brother.” I couldn’t keep my eyes off his armband.
“It’s okay,” he said.
“But it isn’t,” I said.
“No it isn’t, but it’s not something I can talk about. I thank God you made it back. I was afraid I might never see you again, you dumb son of a bitch. You were too old to go in the service, what were you thinking of?”
“Ya talked me out of it,” I said. “I’m not going in.”
The waiter brought us each a second beer.
Lou shrugged, smiled. “I understand the impulse. I’m older than you and I thought about it, too.”
“When your brother enlisted,” I said, beer at the ready, “you went down the next day and took the physical. If you hadn’t flunked, you’d be in right now.”
Wide-eyed, smiling, he said, “How do you know that?”
“I’m a detective.” I took a sip of beer. “Anyway, I used to be. How much play did Davis give me in the News?”
“‘Barney Ross’s Private Eye Pal.’ Pretty corny. All the Cermak and Dillinger and Nitti stuff, dredged up. The Pegler bit, too. But just one story. Yesterday.”
“Fuck. Did I understand Gladys to say Barney’s coming back to town?”
“I believe so. His malaria flared up, and he was off Guadalcanal before New Year’s; he’s been in the States for-”
“I know,” I said. “They let us read the papers in the bughouse. It’s just sharp objects they kept from us.”
“No offense meant, Nate…”
“Me neither. Anyway, I know about Barney. I talked to him on the phone once, even. Did you know Roosevelt pinned the medals on him, personal?”
“We get the papers here, too,” Lou said, smiling faintly.
“But he didn’t say anything about coming back to Chicago, on this extended furlough they’re promising him. He said he was going out to Hollywood, to be with his girlfriend. Wife, I mean.”
“Well,” Lou said, “he’s changed his mind, apparently. My guess is he’s needed to pump some business into his cocktail lounge. His brother Ben just isn’t the manager that Barney was.”
“Shit-Barney was a terrible manager, Lou. But he was a draw. A celebrity.”
Lou shrugged facially. “Now that he’s a war hero, they’ll flock there to see him.”
For some reason I didn’t like to hear that. I didn’t know why, exactly, but I could feel anger behind my eyes.
Lou said, “Do you want to hear about our business, or not?”
“Sure. How have I been doing?”
“You’re not getting rich, but you’re no pauper. Business is off slightly-divorce work is way down-but there’s still too much for one op to handle. If Frankie were here, one of us might be feather-beddin’, but there’s plenty here for the two of us.”
Why didn’t I care? I tried to look interested and said, “Such as?”
“Half a dozen suburban banks are using us for investigating loan applicants and credit; also some personnel investigation, and inspection of property and businesses. We got plenty of retail credit-risk checks to do, and four lawyers are now using us to serve their papers…”
I couldn’t listen. I tried. I swear I tried. But after while I was just looking at his face and his mouth was moving but I couldn’t make myself listen.
This is your business, a voice in my head was saying, this is what you worked so hard to build, once upon a time, so jump back in, jump back in, but I didn’t give a shit.
“Nate?” he said. His change of expression, to concern, made me tune his words in. “Are you all right? You seemed…distant, all of a sudden.”
“I know. I’m sorry.” I sighed. Sipped the beer. “You just drop a stack of work on my desk and I’ll get to it. I promise you.”
“You’re the boss,” he said.
“In name only. You got to run the show till I get back on the ball. I had amnesia, did you know that?”
“No,” he said. Trying not to show his surprise. “We were told…battle fatigue. Shell shock…”
“I blocked it all out,” I said. “Forgot everything I could. My name. Who I am. Who I was. I don’t know if I can remember how to be a detective, to be quite honest with you.”
He smiled a little, swirled his beer in its glass. “Nate Heller with amnesia is still twice the detective of any other man I can think of.”
“That’s horseshit, Lou, but I do appreciate it.”
He looked in the beer, not at me, as he said, “I took the liberty of setting up an appointment for you this afternoon.”
“Really? I don’t think I’m in any mood to see a client just yet, Lou-”
“It’s not a client, and this is something you might just as well deal with right away, ’cause they’re not going to let loose of you till you do. They been calling for weeks, trying to set something up.”