Out on the Cutting Edge

by Lawrence Block

Page 27

 

  I went on for another minute or two, saying what came to mind. Then someone else got called on and talked about how her building was going co-op and she didnt see how she could afford to buy her apartment.

  After the prayer, after the chairs were folded and stacked, I asked Jan if she felt like coffee. "Some of us go to the place around the corner," she said. "Do you want to come along?"

  "I thought just the two of us. "

  "I dont know if thats a good idea. "

  I told her Id walk her to where she was going and we could talk on the way. Once we were outside and had fallen into step together, I couldnt think what it was I had wanted to say, and so we walked a little ways in silence.

  Ive missed you, I said a couple of times in my mind. Finally I said it aloud.

  "Have you? Sometimes I miss you. Sometimes I think of the two of us and I feel sad. "

  "Yes. "

  "Have you been getting out?"

  "I couldnt get interested. Until the past week or so. "

  "And?"

  "I fell into something. Without looking for it, which I guess is the way it happens. "

  "Shes not in the program. "

  "Not hardly. "

  "Does that mean she ought to be?"

  "I dont know who ought to be anymore. It doesnt matter, the whole things not going anywhere. "

  After a moment she said, "I think Id be afraid to spend a lot of time with someone who was drinking. "

  "Thats probably a healthy fear. "

  "Do you know about Tom?" We went back and forth for a moment, with her trying to describe a long-term member of downtown AA and me unable to place him. "Anyway," she said, "he was sober for twenty-two years, kept up on his meetings, sponsored a lot of people, everything. And he was in Paris for three weeks over the summer, and he was walking down the street, and he fell into a conversation with this pretty French girl, and she said, Would you like to have a glass of wine? "

  "And he said?"

  "And he said, Why not? "

  "Just like that. "

  "Just like that, after twenty-two years and God knows how many thousands of meetings. Why not? "

  "Did he make it back?"

  "He cant seem to. Hes sober for two days, three days, and then he goes out and drinks. He looks terrible. His drunks dont last long because he cant stay out, he winds up in a hospital after a couple of days. But he cant stay sober, and when he shows up at a meeting I cant bear to look at him. I think hes probably going to die. "

  "The cutting edge," I said.

  "Hows that?"

  "Just something somebody said. "

  We turned the corner, reached the coffee shop where she was to meet her friends. She said, "Dont you want to join us for a cup of coffee?" I said I didnt think so, and she didnt try to talk me into it.

  I said, "I wish-"

  "I know," she said. She reached out a hand and held mine for a moment. "Eventually," she said, "I think well probably be able to feel easier with each other. Nows too soon. "

  "Evidently. "

  "Its too sad," she said. "It hurts too much. "

  She turned from me, headed for the coffee shop. I stood there until she was through the door. Then I started walking, not paying much attention to where I was going. Not much caring.

  Once Id walked out from under my mood I found a pay phone and tried Garys number. No one answered. I caught a subway uptown and walked over to Paris Green and found him behind the bar. The bar was empty but there were several tables of people whod come for a late brunch. I watched as he made up a tray of Bloody Marys, then filled a pair of tulip-shaped glasses half with orange juice and half with champagne.

  "The mimosa," he said to me. "Reverse synergy, the whole less than the sum of its parts. Drink orange juice or drink champagne, I say, but not the two at once out of the same glass. " He proffered a rag and made a show of wiping the bar in front of me. "And what may I get you?"

  "Is there coffee?"

  He called to a waiter, ordered a cup of coffee for the bar. Leaning toward me, he said, "Bryce said you were looking for me. "

  "Last night. And I called you at home a couple of times since then. "

  "Ah," he said. "Never made it home last night, Im afraid. Thank God there are still ladies left in the world who find a poor barkeep a creature of romance and intrigue. " He grinned richly behind his beard. "If youd reached me, what would you have said?"

  I told him what I had in mind. He listened, nodded. "Sure," he said. "I could do that. Thing is, Im on until eight tonight. Its slow enough right now but theres nobody around who could cover for me. Unless-"

  "Unless what?"

  "How accomplished a bartender are you?"

  "No," I said. "Ill come by for you around eight. "

  I went back to my hotel and tried to watch the end of a football game but I couldnt sit still. I got out of there and walked around. At some point I realized I hadnt eaten since breakfast, and I made myself stop for a slice of pizza. I put a lot of the crushed red pepper on it, hoping it would stir me up a little.

  A few minutes before eight I went back to Paris Green and drank a Coke while Gary evened out his cash and checks and turned it all over to his relief. We walked out together and he asked me the name of the place again. I told him, and he said hed never noticed it. "But Im not on Tenth Avenue much," he said. "Grogans Open House? It sounds like your basic Irish saloon. "

  "It pretty much is. "

  We went over what I wanted him to do, and then I waited across the street while he ambled over to Grogans front entrance and walked in. I stood in a doorway and waited. The minutes crawled, and I was starting to worry that something had unaccountably gone wrong, that Id pushed him into a dangerous situation. I was trying to decide whether Id make things worse by going in myself. I was still mulling it over when the door swung open and he emerged. He had his hands in his pockets and he sauntered along, looking almost too carefree to be true.

  I matched his pace for half a block, then crossed over to his side of the street. He said, "Do I know you? Whats the password?"

  "Recognize anybody?"

  "Oh, no question," he said. "I wasnt that certain Id know him again, but I took one look and knew him right off. And he knew me. "

  "What did he say?"

  "Didnt say much of anything, just stood in front of me waiting for me to order. I didnt let on that I knew him. "

  "Good. "

  "But, see, he didnt let on that he knew me, either, but I could see he did. The way he sent little glances my way. Ha! Guilty knowledge, isnt that what they call it?"

  "Thats what they call it. "

  "Its not a bad little store. I like the tile floor and all the dark wood. I had a bottle of Harp, and then I took a second bottle and watched two fellows shooting darts. One of them, Im sure he must have spent a past life as the Leaning Tower of Pisa. I kept thinking he was going to fall on the floor, but he never did. "

  "I know who you mean. "

  "He was drinking Guinness. Thats a shade too primal a flavor for my tastebuds to come to terms with. I suppose you could mix it with orange juice. " He shuddered. "I wonder what its like to work in a place like that, where the closest you get to a mixed drink is scotch and water or the odd vodka tonic. You could live your whole life and never hear anyone order a mimosa. Or a Harvey Wallbanger. Or a hickory dickory daiquiri. "

  "What the hell is that?"

  "You dont want to know. " He shuddered again. I asked him if hed recognized anyone else in the room. "No," he said. "Only the bartender. "

  "And he was the one you saw with Paula. "

  "The very lad himself, as the boyos in Grogans might put it. " He mused again on the delights of working in a simple, honest bar, unadorned with potted ferns or earnest yuppies. "Of course," he reminded himself, "the tips are pretty awful. "

  And that reminded me. Id set aside a bill earlier, and now I dug it out and slipped it to him.

  I couldnt
get him to take it. "You brought a little excitement into my life," he said. "What did it cost me, ten minutes and the price of two beers? Someday well sit down and you can tell me how the whole thing turns out, and Ill even let you buy the beers that night. Fair enough?"

  "Fair enough. But they dont always turn out. Sometimes they just trail off. "

  "Ill take my chances," he said.

  I killed fifteen minutes, then went back to Grogans myself. I didnt see Mickey Ballou in the room. Andy Buckley was in the back at the dart board, and Neil was behind the bar. He was dressed as hed been Friday night, with the leather vest over the red buffalo-plaid shirt.

  I stood at the bar and ordered a glass of plain soda water. When he brought it I asked if Ballou had been around. "He looked in earlier," he said. "He might be back later on. You want me to tell him you were looking for him?"

  I said it wasnt important.

  He moved off to the far end of the bar. I took a sip or two of my soda water and glanced his way from time to time. Guilty knowledge, Gary had called it, and that was what it felt like. It was hard to be sure of his voice, my caller the other morning had spoken in a hoarse half-whisper, but I had to figure it was him.

  I didnt know how much more I could find out. Or what I could possibly do with whatever I learned.

  I must have stood there for half an hour, and he spent all that time down at the other end of the bar. When I left, my glass of soda wasnt down more than half an inch from the top. Hed forgotten to charge me for it, and I didnt bother to leave him a tip.

  The manager at the Druids Castle said, "Oh, sure, Neil. Neil Tillman, sure. What about him?"

  "He used to work here?"

  "For around six months, something like that. He left sometime in the spring. "

  "So he would have been here the same time Paula was here. "

  "I think so, but I couldnt say for certain without looking it up. And the books in the owners office, and thats locked up right now. "

  "Why did he leave?"

  His hesitation was brief. "People come and go," he said. "Our turnover rate would amaze you. "

  "Why did you let him go?"

  "I didnt say we did. "

  "But you did, didnt you?"

  He shifted uncomfortably. "Id rather not say. "

  "What was his problem? Was he dealing out of the restaurant? Stealing too much of what came in over the bar?"

  "I really dont feel right talking about it. If you come back tomorrow during the day, you can probably learn what you want to know from the owner. But-"

  "Hes a possible suspect," I said, "in a possible homicide. "

  "Shes dead?"

  "Its beginning to look that way. "

  He frowned. "I really shouldnt say anything. "

  "Youre not talking for the record. Itll just be for my own information. "

  "Credit cards," he said. "There was no hard evidence, thats why I didnt want to say anything. But it looked as though he was running duplicate slips with customers cards. I dont know just what he was doing or how he was doing it, but there was something shady going on. "