In the Midst of Death Read online

Page 17

 

  "No. "

  "Im certain he stole me blind and I dont even care. I only kept the place open to accommodate my trade. Not out of the goodness of my heart, but because I dont want these girls to find out there are other establishments in the city that sell liquor. So as long as I covered my overhead I was blissfully happy. And then I wound up showing a slight profit, which was nothing but gravy. " He winked, then scuttled the length of the bar to replenish some drinks and collect some money. Then he returned and posed once again with his chin cupped in his two hands.

  He said, "Bet I know what youre up to. "

  "Bet you dont. "

  "For a drink? Youre on. Let me see now- its initials wouldnt just happen to be J. B. by any chance, would it? And I dont mean the Jim Beam youre drinking. J. B. and his good friend P. C. ?" His eyebrows ascended dramatically. "Heavens, why is your poor jaw plummeting halfway to the dusty floor, Matthew? Isnt that what drew you to this den of ubiquity in the first place?"

  I shook my head.

  "Really?"

  "I just happened to be in the neighborhood. "

  "Thats quite remarkable. "

  "I know he was living just a few blocks from here, but why does that tie him to this place, Kenny? There are dozens of bars as close to his apartment on Barrow. Were you just guessing that I was on his case, or did you hear something?"

  "I dont know if youd call it a guess. More an assumption. He used to drink here. "

  "Broadfield?"

  "The very same. Not all that often, but every once in a while. No, hes not gay, Matthew. Or if he is, I dont know it, and I dont think he does, either. Hes certainly given no evidence of it here, and God knows he wouldnt have had any trouble finding someone who would have been thrilled to take him home. Hes absolutely gorgeous. "

  "Not your type though, is he?"

  "Not my type at all. I like dirty little boys myself. As you well know. "

  "As I well know. "

  "As everybody well knows, sweetheart. " Someone tapped a glass on the bar for service. "Oh, keep it in your pants, Mary," Kenny told him, in a mock British accent. "Im just having a spot of chat with a gent from the Yard. " To me he said, "Speaking of Limey accents, he brought her here, you know. Or didnt you know? Well, you do now. Another drink? You already owe me for two doubles- the one you drank and the one you lost in the bet. Lets make it three. " He poured a generous double, set the bottle down. "So naturally I guessed why you were here. This is not, after all, your normal watering hole. And they had been here both separately and together, and now shes dead and hes in the hotel with the bars on the windows, and the conclusion seemed inescapable. M. S. wants to know about J. B. and P. C. "

  "The last part is certainly true. "

  "Then ask questions of me. "

  "He came here first by himself?"

  "For the longest time he came here only by himself. He was by no means a frequent visitor at first. Id say he first showed up perhaps a year and a half ago. I would see him a couple of times a month, and always alone. Of course I didnt know anything about him at the time. He looked like law, but at the same time he didnt. Do you know what I mean? Maybe it was his clothes. No offense, but he dressed terribly well. "

  "Why should I be offended?" He shrugged and moved off to tend to business. While he was gone I tried to figure out why Broadfield would patronize Sinthias. The only way it made much sense was that there had been times when he wanted to get out of his apartment but didnt want to run into anybody he knew. A gay bar would have suited his needs perfectly.

  When Kenny came back I said, "You mentioned he showed up here with Portia Carr. When?"

  "I cant be positive. He could have brought her here during the summer and I wouldnt have known about it. The first time I saw them together was- three weeks ago? Its hard for me to fix events temporally when I had no idea at the time that they would turn out to be important. "

  "Was it before or after you knew who he was?"

  "Ah, clever, clever! It was after I knew who he was, so three weeks is probably about right because I became familiar with his name when he first made contact with that investigator, and then I saw his photo in the newspaper, and then he turned up with the Amazon. "

  "How many times were they here together?"

  "At least twice. Maybe three times. That was all within the space of a week. May I replenish that drink for you?" I shook my head. "Then I didnt see the two of them again, but I did see her. "

  "Alone?"

  "Briefly. She came in, sat at a table, ordered a drink. "

  "When was this?"

  "Whats today, Friday? This would have been Tuesday night. "

  "And she was killed Wednesday night. "

  "Well, dont look at me, lover. I didnt do it. "

  "Ill take your word for it. " I remembered the dimes I had dropped into various phones Tuesday night, calling Portia Carrs number and getting her answering machine. And she had been here then.

  "Why did she come here, Kenny?"

  "To meet someone. "

  "Broadfield?"

  "Thats what I assumed, but the man who ultimately met her was a far cry indeed from Broadfield. It was hard to believe they were both members of the same species. "

  "And he was the one she was waiting for?"

  "Oh, absolutely. He walked in looking for her, and she had been looking up every time the door opened. " He scratched his head for a moment. "I dont know if she knew him or not. By sight, I mean. I have a vague feeling that she didnt, but Im just guessing. This wasnt long ago, Matt, but I didnt really pay too much attention. "

  "How long were they together?"

  "They were together here for perhaps half an hour. Maybe a little longer than that. Then they left together, so they may have spent hours on end in one anothers company. They didnt see fit to take me into their confidence. "

  "And you dont know who the guy was. "

  "Never saw him before or since. "

  "What did he look like, Kenny?"

  "Well, he didnt look like much, Ill tell you that. But you want a description rather than a critique, I would suppose. Let me just think. " He closed his eyes, drummed his fingers on the bartop. Without opening his eyes he said, "A small person, Matt. Short, slender. Hollow cheeks. A great deal of forehead and an appalling absence of chin. Wore a rather tentative beard to conceal the lack of chin. No mustache. Heavy horn-rimmed glasses, so I didnt see his eyes and couldnt really swear that he had any, although I would guess that he did, as most people generally do. A left one and a right one, conventionally, although now and then- is something wrong?"

  "Nothings wrong, Ken. "

  "Do you know him?"

  "Yeah. I know him. "

  I left Kennys shortly after that. Then theres a stretch of time I dont remember clearly. I probably hit a bar or two. Eventually I found myself in the vestibule of Jerry Broadfields building on Barrow Street.

  I dont know what led me there or why I thought I ought to be there. But it must have made some sort of sense to me at the time.

  A strip of celluloid popped the inner lock, and did the same job on the door to his apartment. Once inside his apartment, I locked the door and went around turning on lights, making myself at home. I found the bottle of bourbon and poured myself a drink, got a beer from the refrigerator for a chaser. I sat sipping bourbon and chasing it with beer. After a little while I turned on the radio and found a station that played unobtrusive music.

  After some more bourbon and some more beer I took off my suit and hung it neatly in his closet. I got out of the rest of my clothes and found a pair of his pajamas in the bureau drawer. I put them on. I had to turn up the trouser bottoms because they were a little long on me. Aside from that they werent a bad fit. A little loose, but not a bad fit.

  Sometime just before I went to bed I picked up the telephone and dialed a number. I hadnt dialed it in a few days, but I still remembered it.

  A deep voice with an English accen
t. "Seven-two-five-five. I am sorry, but no one is at home at the moment. If you will leave your name and number at the sound of the tone, your call will be returned as soon as possible. Thank you. "

  A gradual process, death. Someone had stabbed her to death forty-eight hours ago in this very apartment, but her voice still answered her telephone.

  I called two more times just to hear her voice. I didnt leave any messages. Then I had another can of beer and the rest of the bourbon and crawled into his bed and slept.

  Chapter 12

  I woke up confused and disoriented, chasing the traces of a formless dream. For a moment I stood beside his bed in his pajamas and did not know where I was. Then memory flooded back, fully and completely. I took a quick shower, dried off, put my own clothes back on again. I had a can of beer for breakfast and got out of there, walking out into bright sunlight and feeling like a thief in the night.

  I wanted to get moving right away. But I made myself have a big breakfast of eggs and bacon and toast and coffee at Jimmy Days on Sheridan Square and drank a lot of coffee with it and then took the subway uptown.

  There was a message waiting for me at my hotel, along with a lot of junk mail that went straight into the wastebasket. The message was from Seldon Wolk, who wanted me to call him at my convenience. I decided it was as convenient as it would ever be, and I called him from the hotel lobby.

  His secretary put me through right away. He said, "I saw my client this morning, Mr. Scudder. He wrote out something for me to read to you. May I?"

  "Go ahead. "

  " Matt- Dont know anything about Manch in connection with Portia. Is he a mayoral assistant? She had a few politicians in her book but wouldnt tell me who. I am not holding out on you anymore. I held out about Fuhrmann and our plans because I didnt see how it mattered and I like to keep things to myself. Forget all that. Thing to concentrate on is two cops who arrested me. How did they know to come to my apartment? Who tipped them? Work that angle. "

  "Thats all?"

  "Thats it, Mr. Scudder. I feel like a messenger service, relaying questions and answers without understanding them. They might as well be in code. I trust the message makes some sense to you?"

  "Some. How did Broadfield seem to you? Is he in good spirits?"

  "Oh, very much so. Quite confident hell be acquitted. I think his optimism is justified. " And he had a lot to say about various legal maneuvers that would keep Broadfield out of jail, or get his conviction reversed on appeal. I didnt bother listening, and when he slowed down a little I thanked him and said good-bye.

  I stopped at the Red Flame for coffee and thought about Broadfields message. His suggestion was all wrong, and after thinking about it for a while I realized why.

  He was thinking like a cop. That was understandable- he had spent years learning to think like a cop, and it was hard to reorient yourself immediately. I still thought like a cop a lot of the time myself, and Id had a few years to unlearn old habits. From a cops point of view, it made very good sense to tackle the problem the way Broadfield wanted to. You stayed with hard data and you worked backward, tracking down every possible avenue of approach until you found out who had called in the homicide report. The odds were that the caller was also the murderer. If not, hed probably seen something.