Too Darn Hot

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Too Darn Hot Page 7

by Sandra Scoppettone


  “Miss Quick, please sit down.”

  He did and I did. The place was full despite the hour.

  “Would you care for some coffee?”

  “Sure.”

  He signaled for a waitress.

  I reached into my pocketbook and got out my Camels. Cummings was ready with a light before I had the cigarette out of the pack. “Thanks.”

  He took his own from a leather-and-brass case and lit it with a matching lighter.

  “So you’re here to talk about Charlie, poor bastard. Oh, excuse me, Miss Quick.”

  “I’ve heard worse and call me Faye. Can I call ya George?”

  “Of course.”

  “Yeah, I’m here to talk about Charlie. When’s the last time ya saw him?”

  “Let’s see. Today is Friday so I guess a week ago.”

  I didn’t let on that I was flabbergasted. “Ya mean last Friday?”

  “We all met for drinks.”

  “Who’s we all?”

  “Me, Charlie, and the young soldier he had with him. Charlie and I went to college together.”

  “Yeah. I know.” I took out my notepad. “What was the name of the other soldier?”

  “Charlie’s friend . . . give me a second and I’ll think of it. Oh, yes. David Cooper. That was his name.”

  “Supposedly Charlie didn’t arrive in town until Saturday,” I said.

  He chuckled. “He told Claire that because he wanted a night on the town with the boys.”

  “You know Claire?”

  “Of course.”

  The waitress finally appeared. She was a bottle blonde with droopy dark eyes and an expression that said she didn’t care what you wanted. “Yeah?”

  “A cup of coffee for the lady, please.”

  “That all?”

  “Faye?”

  “Maybe I’ll have a Danish. What kind ya got?”

  “Cheese and prune.”

  I thought for a few seconds.

  “This ain’t like ya gotta decide between rubies or diamonds, ya know.”

  “Cheese,” I said.

  “Glad we got that one settled. Now life can go on. Anything for you,” she asked.

  “I’m fine with the coffee. Thanks.”

  She left.

  “She’s a little brusque,” George said.

  I smiled, thinking I’d like to give the broad one in the chops. “Have ya met Claire often?”

  “Once or twice.”

  I’d been right. She lied about knowing him.

  “Can ya think of any reason Claire would say she’d never met ya?”

  “She said that?”

  I nodded.

  “No. I can’t imagine why she would.” He looked hurt.

  “Maybe I misunderstood,” I said.

  He didn’t say anything and looked down at his coffee.

  “So where did you gents go on boys’ night out?”

  “Where didn’t we go?” He was looking chipper again.

  “Meanin ya hit all the spots?”

  “That’s right. From the Biltmore to Tony Pastor’s and everything in between.” He laughed then snorted.

  “So ya musta been feelin no pain by the time ya went home.”

  “You could say that.”

  I saw that he was proud of that dubious accomplishment.

  “What happened when the night ended?”

  “I went home. I’m not sure where they went. I guess you can tell why I’m not in the service.” He adjusted his cheaters.

  “Your eyes?”

  “Legally blind without these. Otherwise I’d be over there giving those Huns a run for their money.”

  Every guy who wasn’t in the war wanted to be. And they all acted like they were Superman. If they only knew. I wished I could have Woody’s letters printed in some paper. They wouldn’t be so eager to get into it then.

  “This David Cooper was in the service, too?”

  “Army. A private like Charlie.”

  “And ya never saw or talked to either one of em again.”

  “No. I knew Charlie was planning to spend his time with Claire and I had no reason to be in touch with Cooper.”

  “Any ideas why Charlie would be missin?”

  “None at all. To tell you the truth, I don’t think he is missing.”

  “What’s that mean?”

  “I’m not sure I should tell you.”

  “George, if ya have any idea about where Charlie Ladd is, I think ya better tell me.”

  “Coffee and cheese Danish,” the waitress said, and plunked it down in front of me, a slurp of java jumping the lip to the saucer. “Eat up.”

  “Brusque,” I said.

  “Very.”

  “So what about Charlie?” I squashed my cig in the ashtray.

  “Well, we did have some female company that night.”

  “And?”

  “Charlie seemed pretty taken with one of the girls.”

  “I don’t suppose ya know her name?”

  “I do. It was Ida Collier. She was some dish.”

  “And ya know where I can find her?”

  “Well, not exactly.”

  I hated not exactly. “Ya mean ya don’t have an address but ya know kinda?”

  “That’s right. She lives in town. I think she said Greenwich Village. You know those types.”

  “Yeah, sure. Real immoral.” I took a bite of Danish. Very nice.

  “Exactly.”

  “So what yer sayin is that Charlie mighta flown the coop for Ida?”

  “Might. He was pretty damn interested in her.”

  “And what about Private Cooper? He interested in some babe, too?”

  “I’d say he had a minimal interest in someone called Gloria Lane. She was pretty, too, but not like Ida.”

  “How about you, Georgie. Don’t tell me you were left out of the activities.”

  “I’m married.”

  “And?”

  “I don’t cheat.”

  “No offense intended.”

  “None taken. Is there anything else? I need to get back to my office.”

  “This Cooper character. He act any special way toward Charlie?”

  “I don’t understand what you mean?”

  “Was there any tension between them?”

  He put his head back and stared at the ceiling like there was gonna be an answer up there.

  “George?”

  “I’m trying to recall.”

  “Lemme know when ya do.” This guy was getting my goat.

  He came back from mining the ceiling for info. “There was something odd about Cooper. Not odd, exactly. Quiet. He kept up with us drink for drink but he barely spoke at all. I thought he was a bit sulky.”

  Sulky. Who says sulky about a guy?

  “Could ya describe him?”

  “Look, Miss Quick. I didn’t pay much attention to him. I didn’t even know him. Charlie’s my friend and I hadn’t seen him in a while.”

  “So ya were more focused on him.”

  “That’s right.”

  “Anything ya could tell me about Cooper would be helpful.”

  “Such as?”

  “Color of hair, his eyes, anything?”

  “I think he had dark hair. Yes, it was dark. But I can’t remember anything else about him. The uniform tends to make everyone look alike.”

  “If ya saw him again, would ya recognize him?”

  “Oh, yes. I’m sure I would.”

  “Then I’d like ya to do somethin, George. When ya get back to work, I’d like ya to call this number and ask for Detective Powell. Tell him ya might be able to identify the body found at the Commodore Hotel.”

  “Body?”

  “Yeah. It’s not Charlie, so don’t worry. But the body was found in Charlie’s room.”

  “This is incredible.”

  “Good word for it.”

  “And you don’t know whose body it is?”

  “That’s right. Claire saw him and didn’t know him
.”

  “You think it might be Cooper?”

  “I have no idea. Could be. But it might be somebody else altogether.”

  “I don’t think I can do this. I can’t tell them at work that I have to leave to identify a body.”

  “I said to call the detective. I didn’t say ya had to go to the morgue during work hours.”

  “The morgue?”

  “That’s where they keep unidentified bodies, George.” I finished off my Danish.

  “I have to go.” He started to slide outta the booth.

  I reached over and laid my hand on his. “Ya can be subpoenaed to do this, ya know.” I didn’t think that was true, but I didn’t think he’d know, either.

  “I’ve never done anything like this.”

  “Most people haven’t. If ya can ID this guy, it’ll be a big help.”

  “All right.”

  “You’ll call Powell?”

  “Yes. You have my word.”

  “You sure.”

  “Miss Quick, I’ve given you my word.”

  I caught the drift. Word and honor. “Okay. You have nothin to be afraid of, George. There’s nothin gory to look at.”

  “I’m not afraid, Miss Quick. It’s just damn inconvenient.” He stood up and threw some money on the table.

  The waitress watched him leave and made a beeline to our booth. When she saw he’d left money she settled down to her annoying self.

  “Ya want anything else?”

  “Now that ya ask, I think I’ll have another Danish. And give me another cup a joe, too.”

  After my snack I went up to the Village to my apartment. Dolores was on the steps. Her wig was particularly cockeyed and it was hard not to say anything, but I kept my trap shut.

  “Well, bubele, yer home early.”

  “Not stayin. I need to look somethin up.”

  “For yer case?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I dunno how ya can stand rushing around in this heat.”

  “I can’t stand it, but I don’t have a choice. I’d love to stay and chew the fat with ya, Dolores, but I’m in an awful hurry.”

  “Sure, darling. You go.”

  “I’ll see ya later.”

  “You’ll see me when ya come out. I’ll be here all day.”

  “Swell.”

  Inside, I went straight to the telephone table and took out the book. Zach was sleeping on the couch and couldna cared less about me cause it wasn’t feeding time.

  I opened the phone book to the C’s, turning pages until I finally came to the right name. There were all kinds of them. On the next page I found the I’s. Not too many of those. I found what I was looking for and wrote down the phone and address. She didn’t live far from me. I wondered if I should call first. Better to take her off guard.

  Then I talked to Marty and told him John Doe’s possible name. Marty was gonna run a check in the hotel, see if he could find Cooper. I don’t know why but I was getting a feeling more and more that Cooper was making the morgue home.

  Outside, Dolores said, “See. Here I am. Here I stay.”

  “I’m off,” I said.

  I went down the steps and headed west. Ida Collier lived off Bleecker on Leroy Street.

  For all I knew I’d find Charlie Ladd in her bed.

  EIGHT

  Collier’s place was one in from the corner. The building was brick and looked slightly off kilter, like a broad with her slip showing.

  I went up the steps to check the names and see what floor Collier was on. I found it. She was in the basement apartment so I hadda go down the steps and to the left, through a wrought-iron gate, and down three steps more. The shade was pulled on the window and why not? Open, anyone could see in.

  I rang the bell. Waited. Rang it again. Waited. Once more.

  “Hold your horses,” a woman’s voice said. The door opened a crack and a pair of sleepy eyes looked out at me.

  “Are you Ida Collier?”

  “Whaddaya want?”

  “I wanna speak to Ida Collier.”

  “That’s me. Who’re you?”

  I told her.

  She laughed. “A private eye? C’mon.”

  I showed her my license. “I’d like to come in and talk to ya.”

  “About what?”

  “Charlie Ladd.”

  “Who?”

  Either she was a good actress or she didn’t remember him.

  “You were with him last Friday. A private in the army.”

  “I know lots of privates in the army.”

  I bet she did. “Look, can ya let me come in? It’s hotter’n Hades out here.”

  “You think it’s cooler in here?”

  “You got a fan?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’ll sit in front of it.”

  She let out a sigh the size of the Chrysler Building and opened the door wider so I could go in. The room was dark. I could barely make out what was what.

  “Lemme put on a light,” Ida said.

  When she did, I saw she was in her bathrobe, which she wore over a long pink nightgown.

  “Excuse my appearance. I had a late night.” She gave me a knowing look.

  There was an unmade bed in the corner and the rest of the room had a few chairs around a coffee table. There was a galley kitchen and a door that musta led to the bathroom. Unless Ladd was in there he wasn’t with Ida Collier.

  I looked around for the fan but didn’t see one. The air was thick and hot.

  “I need coffee,” she said. “Want some?”

  “Sure.”

  She went over to her little kitchen and lit the gas under the coffeepot.

  Then she turned around to face me. She had wavy platinum hair like Jean Harlow, cool blue eyes the size of quarters, a straight nose, and full lips. The kinda girl a soldier on leave might wanna make hay with. After lighting up she put a hand on her hip.

  “So, what can I do ya?”

  I took out a Camel and lit it. “What about that fan?”

  “It’s broke.”

  “But ya said . . .”

  “I said I had a fan and I do. You didn’t ask me if it worked.”

  How’d I get so lucky playing games with a wiseacre in a room the size and temperature of a pizza oven?

  “Can we sit down?” I said.

  “Why not?”

  We sat in chairs that weren’t too steady.

  “Miss Collier, I . . .”

  “Ida. Call me Ida. What’s your handle again?”

  “Faye.”

  “Oh, yeah. So you were sayin, Faye?”

  “Do ya remember meetin Private Charlie Ladd? It was Friday night.”

  She blew a smoke circle into the room. “A bell is ringin. He with a few other guys?”

  “Yeah.”

  “A looker as I recall. Yeah, Charlie.”

  “Have ya seen him since then?”

  “Nah. It was just one night.”

  “And where was that?”

  “Jazz club. Village Vanguard on Seventh Avenue.”

  I knew it like I knew myself.

  “So that was it then. In the club.”

  “And here. Later. I don’t wantcha gettin the wrong idea about me. Me and Charlie was havin a deep discussion and when the others wanted to leave, well, me and Charlie wanted to go on with it. So that’s what we did. I think the java’s ready.” She got up and swung her way to the stove.

  So why did she pretend she didn’t know who Ladd was?

  “Meanin you left with Charlie and the other private?”

  “Not quite. How d’ya take your coffee?”

  I told her. “What’s not quite mean?”

  “The other guy left with my friend Gloria. A great gal.”

  She handed me my coffee.

  I quashed my cig in a black ashtray. “Thanks. At first ya said ya didn’t know who Charlie was. How come?”

  “I didn’t wanna be too agreeable, ya know?”

  “No.”

  �
�Sometimes ya give with the info right off the bat and people take advantage.”

  “Like what?”

  “You wouldn’t wanna know.”

  I would, but some other time. “So ya remember the other private? The one who went off with that great gal, Gloria?”

  “Sure, I remember him.”

  “What about the third guy?”

  “Kind of a stiff, ya ask me.”

  Maybe I’d pegged Ida wrong. She’d been straight with me for at least three minutes.

  “You know where Gloria lives?”

  “Sure. Say, what’s this all about anyway?”

  “Can ya give me Gloria’s address?”

  “I don’t think I will.”

  “Why not?”

  “Cause ya won’t tell me what’s goin on.”

  “If I tell ya, will ya give me Gloria’s address.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Charlie Ladd’s missin.”

  “Whaddaya mean missin?”

  “He hasn’t been seen since Monday night.”

  “You on the level?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What about his friend?”

  “David Cooper?”

  “Was that his name? I never did get it. Glo probably did, though. Anyways, is he missin, too?”

  “Not sure. But there’s an unidentified dead guy in all this.”

  “You sayin somebody croaked?”

  “Somebody was knocked off.”

  “Cooper?”

  “Maybe.”

  “You’ve seen the stiff?”

  “Yeah.” I didn’t think it would help anything if I told her I’d found him. “All we know is that it’s not Charlie.”

  “That’s good. I bet his girlfriend’s tearin her hair out.”

  “Ladd told ya he had a girlfriend?”

  “Sure. Showed me her picture, too. Nice-lookin babe. What’s the matter? Why are ya lookin at me like that?”

  “I’m surprised.”

  “At what?”

  “That Ladd would tell ya about his girlfriend.”

  “Why? It’s not like we was plannin to set up house or anything.”

  “So now can ya give me Gloria’s address?”

  “I’m feelin sorta reluctant, ya get my drift.”

  “I don’t.”

  “Is Gloria gonna get in any trouble?”

  “No more than you.”

  “Hey. Ya mean I’m gonna be in hot water?” She lit another cigarette. “I need a drink. You want one?”

  I didn’t have to check my watch to know it wasn’t even noon. “No, thanks.”

  “Suit yerself.”

  She got up and went to the kitchen again, opened a cabinet above the sink, and took out a bottle of something clear that I guessed was gin. I watched while she poured a couple a fingers into a tall glass. She gulped it down and then poured another, put the bottle on the counter, and came back to her chair.

 

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