“I know I wasn’t supposed to call you,” I said, “but I have some good news for you.”
“Oh?”
“I’m in a position to claim my reward.”
“You managed to turn up that material?”
“That’s right.”
“Very quick work,” he said.
“Oh, just sound detective procedure and a little bit of luck.”
“I see. It may take some time to, uh, assemble the reward.”
“I don’t have very much time, Mr. Huysendahl.”
“You have to be reasonable about this, you know. The sum we discussed is substantial.”
“I understand you have substantial assets.”
“Yes, but hardly in cash. Not every politician has a friend in Florida with that kind of money in a wall safe.” He chuckled over the line, and seemed disappointed when I didn’t join in. “I’ll need some time.”
“How much time?”
“A month at the outside. Perhaps less than that.”
The role was easy enough, since I kept getting to rehearse it. I said, “That’s not soon enough.”
“Really? Just how much of a hurry are you in?”
“A big one. I want to get out of town. The climate doesn’t agree with me.”
“Actually, it’s been rather mild the past few days.”
“That’s just the trouble. It’s too hot.”
“Oh?”
“I keep thinking about what happened to our mutual friend, and I wouldn’t want it to happen to me.”
“He must have made someone unhappy.”
“Yeah, well, I’ve made a few people unhappy myself, Mr. Huysendahl, and what I want to do is get the hell out of here within the week.”
“I don’t see how that would be possible.” He paused for a moment. “You could always go and come back for the reward when things have had a chance to cool down somewhat.”
“I don’t think I’d like to do it that way.”
“That’s rather an alarming statement, don’t you think? The sort of venture we’ve discussed requires a certain amount of give-and-take. It has to be a cooperative venture.”
“A month is just too long.”
“I might be able to manage it in two weeks.”
“You might have to,” I said.
“That sounds disturbingly like a threat,”
“The thing is, you’re not the only person furnishing a reward.”
“I’m not surprised.”
“Right. And if I have to leave town before I can collect the reward from you, well, you never know what might happen.”
“Don’t be foolish, Scudder.”
“I don’t want to be. I don’t think either of us should be foolish.” I took a breath. “Look, Mr. Huysendahl, I’m sure it’s nothing we can’t work out.”
“I certainly hope you’re right.”
“How does two weeks sound to you?”
“Difficult.”
“Can you manage it?”
“I can try. I hope I can manage it.”
“So do I. You know how to reach me.”
“Yes,” he said. “I know how to reach you.”
I hung the phone up and poured a drink. Just a small one. I drank half of it and nursed the rest of it. The phone rang. I tossed down the last of the bourbon and picked it up. I thought it would be Prager. It was Beverly Ethridge.
She said, “Matt, it’s Bev. I hope I didn’t wake you?”
“You didn’t.”
“Are you alone?”
“Yes. Why?”
“I’m lonesome.”
I didn’t say anything. I remembered sitting across the table from her, making it obvious that she wasn’t getting to me. The performance had evidently convinced her. But I knew better. The woman was good at getting to people.
“I hoped we could get together, Matt. There are things we ought to talk about.”
“All right.”
“Would you be free around seven this evening? I’ve appointments until then.”
“Seven’s fine.”
“The same place?”
I remembered how I had felt in the Pierre. This time we would meet on my turf. But not Armstrong’s; I didn’t want to take her there.
“There’s a place called Polly’s Cage,” I said. “Fifty-seventh between Eighth and Ninth, middle of the block, the downtown side.”
“Polly’s Cage? It sounds charming.”
“It’s better than it sounds.”
“Then I’ll see you there at seven. Fifty-seventh between Eighth and Ninth — that’s very near your hotel, isn’t it?”
“It’s across the street.”
“That’s very convenient,” she said.
“It’s handy for me.”
“It might be handy for both of us, Matt.”
I went out and had a couple of drinks and something to eat. Around six I got back to my hotel. I checked with the desk, and Benny told me I’d had three calls and there had been no messages.
I wasn’t in my room ten minutes before the phone rang. I picked it up, and a voice I didn’t recognize said, “Scudder?”
“Who’s this?”
“You ought to be very careful. You go off halfcocked and upset people.”
“I don’t think I know you.”
“You don’t want to know me. All you gotta know is it’s a big river, plenty of room in it, you don’t want to try and fill it up all by yourself.”
“Who wrote that line for you, anyway?”
The phone clicked.
Chapter 9
I got to Polly’s a few minutes early. There were four men and two women drinking at the bar. Behind it, Chuck was laughing politely at something one of the women had said. On the jukebox Sinatra was asking them to send in the clowns.
The room is a small one, with the bar on the right side as you enter. A railing runs the length of the room, and on the left of it there is an area a few steps up that contains about a dozen tables. They were all unoccupied now. I walked to the break in the railing, climbed the steps, and took the table that was farthest from the door.
Polly’s gets most of its play around five, when thirsty people leave their offices. The really thirsty ones stick around longer than the rest, but the place doesn’t pick up much passer-by trade, and almost always closes fairly early. Chuck pours generous drinks, and the five o’clock drinkers usually tap out early on. On Fridays the TGIF crowd shows a certain amount of perseverance, but other times they generally lock up by midnight, and they don’t even bother opening up on Saturdays or Sundays. It’s a bar in the neighborhood without being a neighborhood bar.
I ordered a double bourbon, and had put half of it away by the time she walked in. She hesitated in the doorway, not seeing me at first, and some conversations died as heads turned her way. She seemed unaware of the attention she was drawing, or too accustomed to it to take notice of it. She spotted me, came over, and sat opposite me. The bar conversations resumed once it was established that she wasn’t up for grabs.
She slid her coat off her shoulders and onto the back of her chair. She was wearing a hot-pink sweater. It was a good color for her, and an excellent fit. She took a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from her handbag. This time she didn’t wait for me to light her cigarette. She drew in a lot of smoke, blew it out in a thin column, and watched with evident interest as it ascended toward the ceiling.
When the waitress came over she ordered gin and tonic. “I’m rushing the season,” she said. “It’s really too cold out for summer drinks. But I’m such a warm person emotionally that I can carry it off, don’t you think?”
“Whatever you say, Mrs. Ethridge.”
“Why do you keep forgetting my first name? Blackmailers shouldn’t be so formal with their victims. It’s easy for me to call you Matt. Why can’t you call me Beverly?”
I shrugged. I didn’t really know the answer myself. It was hard to be sure what was my own reaction to her and what was a part of the role I was playing. I didn’t call her Beverly largely because she wanted me to, but that was an answer that only led to another question.