When the Sacred Ginmill Closes

by Lawrence Block

Page 9

 

  "You were a cop," she said. "Didnt he tell me that?"

  "He could have. "

  "And now youre a detective?"

  "In a way. "

  "Just so youre not a robber. Be something if I got myself stabbed by a burglar tonight, wouldnt it? Hes with me and she gets killed, and then hes with her and I get killed. Except I dont guess hes with her right about now, is he. Shes in the ground by now. "

  Her apartment was small but comfortable. The furniture had clean lines, the pop art prints on the brick wall were framed simply in aluminum frames. From her window you could see the green copper roof of the Parc Vendome on the far corner.

  "If a burglar came in here," she said, "Id stand a better chance than she did. "

  "Because youve got me to protect you?"

  "Mmmm," she said. "Mah hero. "

  We kissed then. I tipped up her chin and kissed her, and we moved into an easy clinch. I breathed in her perfume, felt her softness. We clung together for a moment or two, then withdrew and reached as if in synchronization for our drinks.

  "Even if I was alone," she said, picking up the conversation as readily as shed picked up the drink. "I could protect myself. "

  "Youre a karate black belt. "

  "Im a beaded belt, honey, to match my purse. No, I could protect myself with this here, just give me a minute and Ill show you. "

  A pair of modern matte-black step tables flanked the sofa. She leaned across me to grope for something in the drawer of the one on my side. She was sprawled facedown across my lap. An inch of golden skin showed between the tops of the yellow pedal pushers and the bottom of her green blouse. I put my hand on her behind.

  "Now quit that, Matthew! Ill forget what Im looking for. "

  "Thats all right. "

  "No its not. Here. See?"

  She sat up, a gun in her hand. It was the same matte-black finish as the table. It was a revolver, and looked to be a. 32. A small gun, all black, with a one-inch barrel.

  "Maybe you should put that away," I said.

  "I know how to behave around guns," she said. "I grew up in a house full of guns. Rifles, shotguns, handguns. My pa and both my brothers hunted. Quail, pheasants. Some ducks. I know about guns. "

  "Is that one loaded?"

  "Wouldnt be much good if it wasnt, would it? Cant point at a burglar and say bang. He loaded it fore he gave it to me. "

  "Tommy gave it to you?"

  "Uh-huh. " She held the gun at arms length, sighted across the room at an imaginary burglar. "Bang," she said. "He didnt leave me any shells, just the loaded gun. So if I was to shoot a burglar Id have to ask him for more bullets the next day. "

  "Whyd he give it to you?"

  "Not to go duck hunting. " She laughed. "For protection," she said. "I said how I got nervous sometimes, a girl living alone in this city, and one time he brought me this here. He said he bought it for her, to have it for protection, but she wouldnt have any part of it, wouldnt even take it in her hand. " She broke off and giggled.

  "Whats so funny?"

  "Oh, thats what they all say. My wife wont even take it in her hand. I got a dirty mind, Matthew. "

  "Nothing wrong with that. "

  "I told you bourbon was low-down. Brings out the beast in a person. You could kiss me. "

  "You could put the gun away. "

  "You got something against kissing a woman with a gun in her hand?" She rolled to her left, put the gun in the drawer and closed it. "I keep it in the bedside table," she explained, "so itll be handy if I need it in a hurry. This here makes up into a bed. "

  "I dont believe you. "

  "You dont huh? Want me to prove it to you?"

  "Maybe youd better. "

  AND so we did what grownups do when they find themselves alone together. The sofa opened up into an adequate bed and we lay upon it with the lights out and the room lit by a couple of candles in straw-wrapped wine bottles. Music played on an FM station. She had a sweet body, an eager mouth, perfect skin. She made a lot of enthusiastic noises and more than a few skillful moves, and afterward she cried some.

  Then we talked and had a little more of the bourbon, and before long she dropped off to sleep. I covered her with the top sheet and a cotton blanket. I could have slept myself, but instead I put on my clothes and sent myself home. Because who in her right mindd want Matt Scudder around by the dawns early light?

  On my way home I stopped at the little Syrian deli and had the clerk loosen the caps on two bottles of Molson Ale. I went up to my room and sat with my feet up on the windowsill and drank from one of the bottles.

  I thought about Tillary. Where was he now? In the house where she died? Staying with friends or relatives?

  I thought of him in the bars or Carolyns bed while a burglar was killing his wife, and I wondered what he thought about that. Or if he thought about it.

  And my own thoughts turned suddenly to Anita, out there in Syosset with the boys. I had a moment of fear for her, seeing her menaced, drawing back in terror from some unseen danger. I recognized the fear as irrational, and I was able after a moment to know it for what it was, something Id brought home with me, something that clung to me now along with Carolyn Cheathams scent. I was carrying around Tommy Tillarys guilt by proxy.

  Well, the hell with that. I didnt need his guilt. I had plenty of my own.

  Chapter 6

  The weekend was quiet. I talked to my sons, but they didnt come in. Saturday afternoon I earned a hundred dollars by accompanying one of the partners in the antique shop down the block from Armstrongs. We cabbed together to East Seventy-fourth Street, where we collected clothing and other possessions from his ex-lovers apartment. The lover was thirty or forty pounds overweight, bitter and bitchy.

  "I dont believe this, Gerald," he said. "Did you actually bring a bodyguard or is this my summer replacement? Either way I dont know whether to be flattered or insulted. "

  "Oh, Im sure youll work it out," Gerald told him.

  In the cab back to the West Side Gerald said, "I really loved that cunt, Matthew, and I will be goddamned if I can figure out why. Thank you for this, Matthew. I could have hired a schlepper for five dollars an hour, but your presence was all the difference in the world. Did you see how ready he was to remember that the Handel lamp was his? The fucking hell it was his. When I met him he didnt know from Handel, not the lamps or the composer, either. All he knew was to hondle. You know that word, hondle? It means to haggle over a price, like if I were to try to pay you fifty dollars now instead of the hundred we agreed on. Im just joking, dear. I have no problem with paying you the hundred, I think you were worth every penny of it. "

  SUNDAY night Bobby Ruslander found me in Armstrongs. Skip was looking for me, he said. He was at Miss Kittys, and if I got a minute why didnt I drop over? I had time then, and Bobby walked over there with me.

  It was a little cooler; the worst of the heat wave had broken Saturday, and there had been some rain to cool the streets down a little. A fire truck raced past us as we waited for the light to change. When the siren died down, Bobby said, "Crazy business. "

  "Oh?"

  "Hell tell you about it. "

  As we crossed the street he said, "I never see him like this, you know what I mean? Hes always supercool, Arthur is. "

  "Nobody else calls him Arthur. "

  "Nobody ever did. Back when were kids, nobody calls him Arthur. It was like going against type, you know? Everybody calls him Skip, Im his best friend, I call him by his formal name. "

  When we got there Skip tossed Bobby a bar towel and asked him to take over for him. "Hes a lousy bartender," he announced, "but he doesnt steal much. "

  "Thats what you think," Bobby said.

  We went in back and Skip closed the door. There were a couple of old desks, two swivel chairs and a straight-backed chair, a coatrack, a file cabinet, and a big old Mosler safe that was taller than I was. "Thats where the books shoulda been," he said, pointing at
the safe. "Except were too smart for that, me and John. Theres an audit, thats the first place theyre gonna look, right? So all thats in there is a thousand in cash and some papers and shit, the lease on this place, the partnership agreement, his divorce papers, shit like that. Terrific. We saved that crap and let somebody walk off with the store. "

  He lit a cigarette. "Safe was here when we took the place," he said. "Left over from when the joint was a hardware store, and it cost more to move than it was worth, so we inherited it. Massive fucker, isnt it? You could put a body in there if you had one around. That way nobodyd steal it. He called, the fucker who stole the books. "

  "Oh?"

  He nodded. "Its a ransom pitch. I got something of yours and you can have it back. "

  "He name a price?"

  "No. Said hell be in touch. "

  "You recognize the voice?"

  "Uh-uh. Sounded phony. "

  "How do you mean?"

  "Like it wasnt his real voice I was hearing. Anyway, I didnt recognize it. " He clasped his hands, extended his arms to crack his knuckles. "Im supposed to sit around until I hear from him. "

  "When did you get the call?"

  "Couple hours ago. I was working, he called me here. Good start to the evening, Ill tell you. "

  "At least hes coming to you instead of sending the stuff straight to the IRS. "

  "Yeah, I thought of that. This way we get the chance to do something. If he went and dropped a dime on us, all we could do is bend over and take it. "

  "Did you talk to your partner?"

  "Not yet. I called his house, he wasnt in. "

  "So you sit tight. "

  "Yeah. Thats a switch. What the hell have I been doing, hanging loose?" There was a water tumbler on his desk, a third full with a brownish liquid. He took a last drag on his cigarette and dropped it into the glass. "Disgusting," he said. "I never want to see you do that, Matt. You dont smoke, do you?"

  "Once in a great while. "

  "Yeah? You have one now and then and dont get hooked? I know a guy takes heroin that way. You know him, too, for that matter. But these little fuckers"- he tapped the pack- "I think theyre more addictive than smack. You want one now?"

  "No thanks. "

  He stood up. "The only things I dont get addicted to," he said, "are the ones I didnt like that much in the first place. Hey, thanks for coming by. Theres nothing to do but wait, but I figured I wanted to keep you in the picture, let you know whats going on. "

  "Thats fine," I said, "but I want you to know you dont owe me anything for it. "

  "What do you mean?"

  "I mean dont go paying my bar tab for this. "

  "Are you sore?"

  "No. "

  "It was just something I felt like doing. "

  "I appreciate it, but it wasnt necessary. "

  "Yeah, I guess. " He shrugged. "When youre skimming you get to be very free with cash. You spend it on things that dont show. The hell with it. I can stand you a drink, though, cant I? In my own joint?"