by Ed McBain
"I'm sure she didn't."
A mistake? No. Back off a bit, anyway.
"She said she'd settle for ten bucks, sit here with you, let you tell her some more jokes hellip;"
"Oh. Yeah."
"So let me hear one."
"I'd rather talk about you right now."
"Sure," Eileen said.
" 'Cause I find that fun, you know. Learning about other people, finding out what makes them tick."
"You sound like a shrink," she said.
"Well, my father's a shrink."
"Really?"
"Yeah. Practices in L.A. Lots of customers out there. You know what L.A. stands for?"
"What?"
"Lunatic Asylum."
"I've never been there, so I wouldn't hellip;"
"Take my word for it. Every variety of nut in the mdash;do you know the one about the guy who goes into a nut shop?"
"No."
"He stutters badly, he says to the clerk, 'I'd I-I-like to b-b-buy a p-p-pound of n-n-nuts.' The clerk says, 'Yes, sir, we have some very nice Brazil nuts at three dollars a pound.' The guy says, 'N-n-no, that's t-t-too high.' So the clerk says, 'I've also got some nice almonds at two dollars a pound.' The guy says, 'N-n-no, that's t-t-too high, t-t-too.' So the clerk says, 'I've got some peanuts at a dollar a pound,' and the guys says, 'F-f-fine.' The clerk weighs out the peanuts, puts them in a bag, and the guy pays for them. The guy says, 'Th-thank you, and I also w-w-want to th-thank you for n-n-not m-m-mentioning m-m-my im-p-p-pedi-ment.' The clerk says, 'That's quite all right, sir, and I want to thank you for not mentioning my deformity.' The guy says, 'Wh-what d-d-deformity?' The clerk says, 'Well, I have a very large nose.' The guy says, 'Oh, is that your n-n-nose? Your n-n-nuts are so high, I th-thought it was your p-p-pecker.'"
Eileen burst out laughing.
The laughter was genuine.
For the briefest tick of time she forgot that she was sitting here at the bar with a man she felt reasonably certain had killed three women and would do his best to kill her as well if she gave him the slightest opportunity.
The laughter surprised her.
She had not laughed this heartily in a long time. She had not laughed since the night Arthur Haines slashed her cheek and forced himself upon her.
She could not stop laughing.
She wondered all at once if the laughter was merely a release of nervous tension.
But she kept laughing.
Tears were rolling down her cheeks.
She reached into her bag for a tissue, felt under the silk scarf, touched the butt of the .44, and suddenly the laughter stopped.
Dabbing at her eyes, she said, "That was very funny."
"I'm going to enjoy you," he said, smiling, looking into her eyes. "You're going to be a good one."
CHAPTER 11
Alice was telling him that a lot of men got turned on by midgets, did he realize that?
Parker realized it. She was a perfect little doll, blonde hair and blue eyes, beautifully formed breasts and well-shaped legs. She was wearing a green dress that hugged the womanly curves of her body, legs crossed, one foot jiggling in a high-heeled green slipper.
He said, "I read a lot of these men's magazines, you know hellip;"
"Uh-huh," she said, nodding encouragement. Drink in her right hand, cigarette in her left.
"And there's all sorts' of letters from men who get turned on by all sorts of women."
"Uh-huh."
"Like, for example, there are many men who are sexually attracted to women with back problems."
"Back problems?" Alice said.
"Yes. Women who wear braces."
"I see," she said.
"And there are men who enjoy one-armed women."
"Uh-huh."
"Or even double amputees."
"Uh-huh."
"Or women who are color blind."
"Color blind, right."
"But I've never seen any letters from men who findmidgets sexually attractive. I wonder why. I mean, I findyou very attractive, Alice."
"Well, thank you," she said. "But that's what I was saying. Alot of men get turned on by midgets."
"I can understand that."
"It's what's called the Snow White Syndrome."
"Is that what it's called?"
"Yes, because she was living with those seven dwarfs, you know."
"That's right, I never thought of that. I mean, if you look at it that way, it could be a dirty story, couldn't it?"
"Well, sure. Not that dwarfs are midgets."
"No, no. Theyaren't ?"
"No. Midgets are perfectly proportioned little people."
"You certainly are perfectly proportioned, Alice."
"Well, thank you. But my point is, with so many men being attracted to female midgets hellip;"
"Uh-huh."
"You think you'd see midgets in ads and all."
"I never thought of it that way."
"I mean, wouldn't you like to see me modeling lingerie, for example?"
"Oh, I would."
"But instead, if you're a midget, you have to join a circus."
"I never thought of it that way," he said again.
"Have you ever seen a midget working as a clerk in a department store?"
"Never," he said.
"Do you know why?"
"Because you can't see over the counter?"
"Well, that's one reason, of course. But the main reason is there's a lingering prejudice against little people."
"I'll bet there is."
"Short has become a dirty word," Alice said. "Have you ever seen a short movie star?"
"Well, Al Pacino is short."
"On my block, Al Pacino is agiant ," she said, and giggled.
Parker loved the way she giggled.
"Have you ever seen a movie where there are midgets makinglove ?" she asked.
"Never."
"Wedo make love, you know."
"Oh, I'll bet."
"Have you ever seen a midget fireman? Or a midget cop?"
He had not yet told her he was a cop. He wondered if he should tell her he was a cop.
"Well, they changed the requirements, you know," he said.
"What requirements?"
"The height requirements. It used to be five-eight."
"So what is it now?"
"You can be any height. I know cops you can fit them in your vest pocket."
"You mean a midget can become a cop?"
"Well, I don't know aboutmidgets. But I guess hellip;"
"Because I can shoot a gun as good as anybody else, you know. I used to do an Annie Oakley act in the circus. Little Annie Oakley, they called me. That was before I got to be Tiny Alice."
"Youare tiny," he said. "That's one of the things I find very sexually attractive about you."
"Well, thank you. But what I'm asking, if I applied to the police department hellip; to become a woman cop, you know hellip; would they accept me? Or would they thinkshort? Do you see what I mean?"
"I don't think of you as short," Parker said.
"Oh, I'm short, all right."
"I think of you as delicate."
"Well, thank you. There's this man Hans, he's one of the Flying Dutchmen, an aerial act, you know?"
"Uh-huh."
"He wrote me this very hot love letter, I memorized it. What made me think of it was your use of the word delicate."
"Well, you are delicate."
"Thank you. Would you like to hear the letter?"
"Well hellip; sure," Parker said, and glanced over his shoulder to see where Peaches was. She was nowhere in sight. "Go ahead," he said.
"He said he wanted to disrobe me."
"Take off your clothes, you mean."
"Yes. He said he wanted to discard my dainty delicate under things hellip; that's what made me think of it, delicate."
"Yes, I see."
"And pat my pubescent peaks hellip; this is him talking now, in the letter."
"Yes."
"Uh-huh."
"And caress my compact clitoris and crisp pauciloquent pubic patch. That was the letter."
"From one of the Flying Dutchmen, huh?"
"Yes."
"He speaks good English."
"Oh, yes."
"That isn't the guy you're with tonight, is it? The guy you came in with?"
"No, no. That's Quentin."
"He's not one of the Flying Dutchmen, huh?"
"No, he's a clown."
"Oh."
"A very good one, too."
"So how long have you been in town? I didn't even know the circus was here, I'll tell you the truth."
"Well, we're not here. We won't be here till the spring sometime. We go down to Florida next month to start rehearsing the new season."
"Oh, so you're just visiting then, is that it?"
"Yeah, sort of."
"You're not married or anything, are you?"
"No, no. No, no, no, no, no."
Shaking her head like a little doll.
"How long will you be in town?"
"Oh, I don't know. Why?"
"I thought we might get together," Parker said, and shrugged.
"How about the big redhead you're with?"
"Peaches? She's just a friend."
"Uh-huh."
"Really. I hardly know her. Alice, I've got to tell you, I've never met a woman as delicate and as attractive as you are, I mean it. I'd really like to get together with you."
"Well, why don't you give me a call?"
"I'd like that," he said, and took his pad from his pocket.
"That'ssome notebook," she said. "It's bigger than I am."
"Well, you know," he said, and wondered again if he should tell her he was a cop. Lots of women, you told them you were a cop, it turned them off. They figured all cops were on the take, all cops were crooks. Just because every now and then you accepted a little gift from somebody. "So where can I reach you?' he said.
"We're staying at Quentin's apartment. The four of us."
"Who's the four of us? Not the Flying Dutchmen, I hope."
"No, no, they went back to Germany, they'll be joining us in Florida."
"So who's the four of you?"
"Willie and Corky hellip; they're married hellip; and Oliver and me And of course Quentin, whose apartment it is. Quentin Forbes."
"What's the address?" Parker asked.
"Four-oh-three Thompson Street."
"Downtown in the Quarter," he said, nodding. "The Twelfth."
"Huh?"
He wondered if he should explain to her that in this city you didn't call the Twelfth the "One-Two." Any precinct from the First to the Twentieth was called by its full and proper designation. After that, it became the Two-One, the Three-Four, the Eight-Seven, and so on. But that would have meant telling her he was a cop, and he didn't want to chance losing her.
"What's the phone number there?" he asked.
"Three-four-eight hellip;"
"Excuseme."
Voice as cold as the second day of February, hands on her hips, green eyes blazing.
"I'd like to go home now," Peaches said. "Did you plan on accompanying me? Or are you going to play house all night?"
"Uh hellip; sure," Parker said, and got to his feet. "Nice meeting you," he said to Alice.
"It's in the book," Alice said, and smiled up sweetly at Peaches.
Peaches tried to think of a scathing midget remark, but nothing came to mind.
She turned and started for the door.
"I'll call you," Parker whispered, and ran out after her.
The house was a white clapboard building with a white picket fence around it. A matching white clapboard garage stood some twenty feet from the main structure. Both buildings were on a street with only three other houses on it, not too far from the turnpike. It was two minutes past midnight when they reached the house. The first day of November. The beginning of the Celtic winter. As if in accordance, the weather had turned very cold. As they pulled into the driveway, Brown remarked that all they needed was snow, the turnpike would be backed up all the way to Siberia.
There were no lights burning on the ground floor of the house. Two lighted windows showed on the second story. The men were inappropriately dressed for the sudden cold. Their breaths plumed from their mouths as they walked to the front door. Hawes rang the doorbell.
"Probably getting ready for bed," he said.
"You wish," Brown said.
They waited.
"Give it another shot," Brown said.
Hawes hit the bell button again.
Lights snapped on downstairs.
"Who is it?"
Marie's voice, just inside the door. A trifle alarmed. Well, sure, midnight already.
"It's Detective Hawes," he said.
"Oh."
"Sorry to bother you so late."
"No, that's all hellip; just a minute, please."
She fumbled with the lock, and then opened the door. Shehad been getting ready for bed. She was wearing a long blue robe. Laced ruff of a nightgown showing in the V-necked opening. No slippers.
"Have you found him?" she asked at once.
Referring to Jimmy Brayne, of course.
"No, ma'am, not yet," Brown said. "Okay for us to come in?"