“I might,” Stevie Said.
“I’m a great one for judging people by their faces. I like your face.”
“I like yours.”
“Anyway, I’m a sucker for people in trouble. That’s how you look, like a nice fellow who’s in trouble. It’s none of my business what the trouble is, of course. Maybe it’s a girl and maybe it isn’t, but the offer still goes.”
“Offer?”
“You can come home with me.”
The kindness and the beer went to Stevie’s head. He wanted to cry. He decided that he would cry and put his head down on the table. But one of the bartenders came over and tapped his shoulder and said, “Closing time, mister.”
Stevie raised his head. “Yeah. What time?”
“Closing time.” He turned to the man. “Is this a friend of yours?”
“You bet he is,” the man said. “We’re just leaving. Can you call a cab?”
“I can call a cab, sure,” the bartender said, “if you got a nickel.”
The man took hold of Stevie’s arm and led him out. They waited on the sidewalk for the cab, with Stevie leaning against the man, saying, “Thanks, Joey. Thanks, Joey.”
When they were inside the cab Stevie slid into a corner and closed his eyes. The man didn’t bother him until the cab stopped. Then he said, “We’re here,” and Stevie opened his eyes and got out, not caring where he was. It was nice to have things decided for him, it was nice to have a friend who liked his face.
The cool air had sobered him a little and he could walk by himself, follow the man through the lobby and up a flight of stairs and through a door.
“Here we are.”
The man turned on a lamp, and another lamp. The room sprang up at Stevie. There was something wrong about it, something wrong, something missing.
He rubbed his hands over his eyes to wipe away the blur. But there was no blur, there was nothing the matter with his eyes, it was the room, the room itself...
“Sit down,” the man said. “Make yourself at home.”
“I’d like some water,” Stevie said.
“Sure. I’ll get you some.”
The man went out. Stevie followed him, through a dining room into a kitchen. The tap roared for a minute. There was something wrong in this room too. If he could think, if he could remember...
It hit him when he was holding the glass of water to his lips. The shock was so sudden that his throat was constricted and the water couldn’t get past. It dribbled down his chin.
There were no dirty dishes in the sink. There was no dirt anywhere in the apartment. There was no wife, no cousin in Buffalo.
He raised his head and saw that the man was watching him, quietly, the man was waiting for something.
“You’ve got it now, Mr. Jordan?” he said finally.
The glass fell out of Stevie’s hand and splintered on the floor. His mouth moved stiffly. “Who are you?”
The man said, “My name is Sands.”
Chapter 11
The woman opened her mouth to scream again. Higgins said, “Shut up!” and crawled to his feet. The woman’s mouth stayed open but no sound emerged.
“I fell,” Higgins said, brushing off his trousers. When he talked his jaw hurt but he didn’t mind, it had worked out all right.
“The floor’s too slippery,” he said. “It’s a wonder you girls don’t break your necks.”
“What... what are you doing back here? Joey’s got rules about that.” She had a deep coarse voice.
“I wanted to talk to one of the girls,” Higgins said easily.
“Which one?”
“You.”
“Me?” She took a step back. “I don’t know you. You better get out before I call Joey.”
“I don’t think you’ll want to call Joey. This is just between you and me.”
“I’ve got to go now. That’s my music.”
“Go ahead.”
He stepped back and she went past him through the curtain walking with fast nervous steps. There was a smattering of applause, the orchestra was muted, the woman began to sing, “Oh, there’s a lull in my life.” She sang it badly, keeping a little ahead of the orchestra as if she were trying to hurry it along.
She came back in five minutes. She looked more sure of herself than she had before. She had been thinking during the lull in her life.
“I want to talk to you about a friend of yours,” Higgins said. “You know what friend I mean?”
“No idea. Cop, are you?”
“Inspector Higgins, Miss Rosen. I’m looking for Tony Murillo.”
“So am I,” Mamie said. “And for his own good I hope you get there first.”
So it’s going to be like that, Higgins thought. He said, “We haven’t seen Murillo for some time, nearly ten years. Thought we’d look him up. You didn’t know him ten years ago?”
“No.”
“He’d just got two years for peddling reefers. I want to see him.”
“What for?”
“Questioning. Where is he?”
“I don’t know.”
“Living with him, aren’t you?”
“Now and then,” Mamie said coolly. “Off and on.”
Joey came in through the side door. “You stank,” he said to Mamie. “What in hell’s the matter with you?”
“Nothing,” Mamie said.
Joey turned to Higgins. “Policeman, eh? What have we done now? Where’s Stevie?”
“Mr. Jordan took a walk to cool off,” Higgins said. “He probably won’t be back tonight.”
“What’s going on here?” Joey demanded. “What right have the cops got to come in and bust up my show?”
“Don’t get excited,” Higgins said. “We wanted to talk to Mr. Jordan, that’s all. Now I want to talk to Miss Rosen. Alone.”
“Well, by Jesus, couldn’t you pick some other time? You frighten her half to death so she can only squawk when she should be singing, and you take Jordan...”
“Jordan went under his own steam,” Higgins said, “and I’d still like to talk to Miss Rosen alone.”
“What about?”
“Her boy friend.”
Joey whirled savagely toward Mamie. “For Christ’s sake didn’t I tell you if you didn’t keep away from that wop I was going to fire you? Every couple of months you show up all messed up with a black eye and a split lip and I should pay you for it! I’m in business. I’m not running a convalescent home for...” He took another step toward her. “Tell this cop where Murillo is. I want to see him in jail where he belongs. Tell hint.”
“I don’t know where he is,” Mamie whispered. “I don’t know.”
Joey stared at her for a minute, then he turned back to Higgins and said calmly, “Murillo’s probably hiding out in her room. She lives on Charles Street. Tell him the number, Mamie.”
“A hundred and ten,” Mamie said. “But he’s not there.”
“Not now he isn’t,” Joey said grimly. “But he’ll be back. Once a guy like Murillo finds a sucker like Mamie he don’t let go easy. He’ll be back.”
“He didn’t come back last night,” Mamie said. “I think he’s out of town on business.”
“Business!” Joey shouted.
“I’ll handle this,” Higgins said, waving Joey away. “Relax.”
“I’ll relax when you tell me where Jordan is and when he’s coming back.”
“I don’t know,” Higgins said. “Wait and see.”
“Wait and see, hell! What did he do?”
“Possibly he did a murder,” Higgins said thoughtfully. “We’d like to know.”
Joey walked stiffly to the door. He was cursing under his breath. He cursed them all, Mamie and Higgins and Jordan and Murillo. They were trying to ruin him, send him to the poorhouse. He slammed the door and put his hand in his pocket to jingle the loose change he always kept there so he could listen to the sweet clink of nickels.