by Mike Resnick
I finally made it into the apartment, saw that Marlowe’s food bowl was empty, opened a can of pork and beans and poured it in. I remembered that I hadn’t shaved in three days and stopped by the bathroom long enough to take some of the fuzz off, turned on the TV to see if we were at war with anyone, and finally ran out of reasons and excuses not to drive over to the Pepperidge house.
It was dark when I got there. I pulled up the driveway, got out, and went to the front door. It had the kind of knocker on it that you’d swear was made to be looked at rather than used, and I rang the bell. About thirty seconds later the door opened, and I found myself facing Velma’s very formidable figure and thinking the bullet that grazed Mela’s arm would have bounced off hers.
“You again!” was her way of greeting.
“For the last time, I promise,” I said. “May I come in?”
She considered it for a moment, then almost imperceptibly nodded her head and stepped aside. I noticed that Fluffy had come to the large foyer too, doubtless to see who was crazy enough to visit her owner.
“Well?” Velma demanded.
“It looks like the police are going to be able to arrest Big Jim’s killer,” I told her.
“I don’t give a shit about that!” she snapped. “Where’s the money he stole from the Bolivians?”
“The police will have three of the diamonds soon.”
“That’s three million, maybe a little more,” she said. “Where’s the rest?”
I shook my head. “That’s three hundred thousand, maybe a little less.”
“What kind of bullshit is this? We both know he stole millions from the Bolivian mob!”
“Maybe he overestimated,” I answered. “But two reputable jewelers have valued them at a hundred thousand apiece, tops.”
“What the fuck are you trying to get away with?” she demanded.
“Not a thing. You hired me to find the cat,” I said. “Well, the diamonds. I’ve found three of them. The killer has the other six, and he’s so far in debt that he’s probably sold them already. The seventh is in a ring he gave his girlfriend. You might be able to get that one back. I’m just here to report that the job you paid me for is done.”
“Who’s the killer?” she said.
I figured if I told her, she’d walk over to Delahunt’s house, kill him if he was there, rip the joint apart and maybe kill Mrs. Delahunt if she got in the way, and find a way to blame me for her being there at all.
“The police will let you know as soon as they’ve arrested him,” I said.
“You are a goddamned fucking liar!” she screamed. “We both know those diamonds are worth a million apiece! Jim had been ripping those assholes off for years. He could have hidden a million every three months!”
“The cops will have their hands on three of the diamonds in a few days,” I said. “If you don’t believe me, maybe you’ll believe them.”
“You kept the real ones and substituted some cheap ones!”
“They’ll match the descriptions on your insurance policy,” I said.
“You’re all liars!” she bellowed. “You, the cops, the insurance company, all of you!”
She stamped her foot down and managed to land it on Fluffy’s tail. The cat screeched in pain and surprise.
“Here!” she said, reaching down, grabbing Fluffy up by the scruff of the neck, and hurling her at me with a motion that would have been the envy of Roger Clemens.
I caught her against my stomach, let out an “Oof!” and tried to think of what to do next.
“I never want to see either of you again!” she shrieked. “Now get the fuck out of my house!”
I considered putting Fluffy down, but I decided no one, not even a cat, should have to live in the same house as Velma, so I opened the door with my free hand, carried the cat out to the car, deposited her in the backseat, and backed out of the driveway before Velma remembered that Palanto had a gun and went looking for it.
The cat meowed unhappily all the way home. I found a parking place just a couple of doors down from my apartment, picked the cat up, climbed up the stairs, and was about to unlock the door when I realized who was waiting on the other side of it.
Marlowe had squatter’s rights on that apartment, and he probably outweighed Fluffy by a good five pounds, which may not have been much difference when Ali fought Frazier, but it gave him a 50 percent body weight advantage.
Well, I’d just have to use a firm hand and keep an eye on him. Fluffy hadn’t asked to be literally thrown out of her home, and I decided it was my job to keep Marlowe from ripping her to shreds until I could find a new home for her.
I needn’t have worried. I opened the door, stepped inside, set her on the floor, and said, “Marlowe, say hello to your new roomie.”
He took one look at her and spent the rest of the night hiding under my bed.
28.
Marlowe was still under the bed when I got up about eight o’clock. As for Fluffy, she was curled up on his favorite couch cushion, looking for all the world like she owned the place.
“Okay,” I muttered. “I don’t know much about cats, but one thing I do know is they use litter boxes. Hold yourself in check another twenty minutes.”
I got dressed, put on my coat, and walked a couple of blocks to the little mom-and-pop grocery store, picked up a bag of cat litter and a plastic box, then let them sell me a scoop to clear the litter out of the box, and a couple of minutes later I was back in the apartment, pouring litter into the box and sticking it under the bathroom sink.
I picked Fluffy up, carried her to the bathroom, set her down in the box, and waited.
She stared right back, stood there for a minute, then jumped out, walked back to the couch with all the dignity she could muster, and hopped back up onto the cushion.
I figured as long as I still had my coat on, I might as well take Marlowe for his walk, since to the best of my knowledge dogs didn’t use litter boxes. I had to reach under the bed and drag him out. Then he practically pulled me out the door and down the stairs. At first I thought he had to go, but when we got outside he just stood there, and I realized what he really wanted to do was get away from Fluffy.
I walked him to Mrs. Garabaldi’s where force of habit took over, he watered her petunias, and we headed back home. This time he didn’t make a beeline for the space under the bed but just sat in the farthest corner of the living room and stared at Fluffy.
“You know,” I said aloud, staring at the cat, “if you’re going to stick around for any length of time, you need a better name. A manly, macho private eye can’t have a pet called Fluffy. A dame, maybe, but not a cat.” I considered my options. “He’s named after Philip Marlowe, but you’re the wrong color to be Sam Spade. Besides, if I call you Spade, some of the black guys at the Twenty Yard Line might take serious offense.” I stared at her further, and finally it came to me. “You’re a female, and Samantha’s a name for a female. And since we’re going to be living together, at least for a while, that’s too formal, so I think I’ll call you Sam. How does that sit with you?”
She opened one eye and stared at me. That’s fine. I can ignore you when you call me Sam just as easily as when you call me Fluffy.
Marlowe gave me an I could have told you so look, and then I checked my watch and realized that they’d be releasing Mela in about forty-five minutes, and I didn’t want him going anywhere but to the Cincinnati police with me.
I opened a can of sardines that was old enough to grow a beard and left it on the kitchen counter where Marlowe couldn’t reach it. I figured Sam could smell them, and when she got hungry enough she’d make her way back there and grab a little breakfast or lunch, and of course she could share Marlowe’s water bowl.
Then I was out the door, and a minute later I was driving across the Ohio River to St. Elizabeth’s. I parked, went in, got a fierce glare from the receptionist I’d spoken to yesterday, and was about to ask about Mela when he approached from wherever he’d been waiting.
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“Hi,” I said. “How are you today?”
“Fine,” he said. “It’s really just a scratch.” Suddenly he smiled. “I hope it leaves a scar, though.”
“Oh?” I said. “Why?”
“I have an older brother who fought in Vietnam. He took a bullet in the leg, and for the next twenty years every time our family, which is quite large, had a reunion, every one of the kids nagged and nagged until he showed them his scar.” He paused. “I was 4-F.” He patted his arm gingerly. “Now I finally have a wound to show them.”
“If I’d known it meant that much to you, I’d have shot you myself,” I said, and he chuckled. “I suppose they confiscated the box?”
He nodded. “You told me they would.”
“Okay, we’re a day late, but they still want to see you,” I said. “I’ll drive us over.”
“Will this take very long?” he asked.
“They’ll probably be done with you in an hour,” I said. “But of course it’ll take them a few days to get the diamonds—after all, two guys were killed in Covington because of them. Still, the two departments work pretty well together, and since there’s no one left alive to charge with murder and there’s a murder case pending across the river, I think the diamonds should be in Cincinnati in, oh, maybe a week.”
“I can save you a return trip and have my wife pick me up,” he offered.
“The cops will take you back,” I said. “You’re only there because they want to see you, and since you’re coming willingly and saving them a ton of interstate paperwork, they’ll be happy to do it.” I paused. “At least, they’ll look happy.”
“The man who yelled at you to duck,” said Mela as we walked to the car. “Was he your partner?”
“In a way,” I said.
“How is he?”
“Dead.”
“I’m sorry.”
“So am I,” I said. “But if he hadn’t been backing me up, you and I would be lying side by side in the morgue.”
He shook his head. “All because Abner stole some diamonds.”
“All because he stole some diamonds from a man he’d just killed,” I said.
He rubbed his face with his delicate hands. “It’s all too much for me. Jewelers are conditioned to worry about robbery, not murder.”
We crossed the combined I-71/I-75 bridge to Ohio, and a couple of minutes later I parked at headquarters and escorted Mela into the building and up to Jim Simmons’s office.
“Good morning, Eli,” said Simmons, getting to his feet and turning to Mela. “And you must be Mr. Mela. I hope you’re okay?”
Mela nodded. “Just a scratch, thanks to Mr. Paxton and his partner.”
“Partner?” said Simmons curiously, looking at me.
“Friend,” I said.
“I was sorry to hear about him,” said Simmons.
“While I’m thinking of it,” I said, “when the diamonds are finally returned to Velma, I want the finder’s fee to go to his family.”
Simmons smiled. “First we got to find them.”
“Orestes?” I said. “Tell the lieutenant what’s in the custody of the Covington police.”
“Three diamonds worth perhaps a hundred thousand each, possibly a little less. I don’t think any jeweler will argue with an estimate of eighty-five to ninety.”
“And these are the diamonds you were bringing to me yesterday when the shooting started?”
He nodded his head. “Yes.”
“Exactly how did you come by these diamonds, Mr. Mela?” asked Simmons.
“They were part of a group of ten that were brought to me last week by Abner Delahunt.”
“Where are the other seven?”
Mela shrugged. “I can only give you hearsay. I set one of them into a ring that I am told Mr. Delahunt gave to a lady friend, but I have no proof of that. And Mr. Delahunt took the other six back, and I have not seem him or them since then.”
“Okay,” said Simmons, “that jibes with what Eli told us. We’ve already confiscated the ring. Are you willing to identify it when we ask you to?”
“Certainly.”
“One last question: Are you willing to be deposed?”
“Deposed?” repeated Mela.
Simmons nodded. “You’ll be escorted to another room, accompanied by two members of my staff, and they’ll ask you to repeat your story in front of a recorder, a video camera, and a steno—and after a stenographer types it up you’ll be asked to sign it. Do you have a problem with any facet of that?”
“No, sir, I do not,” said Mela.
“Good.” Simmons pressed a button on his desk, and a moment later a plainclothes cop opened the door. “Tom, will you and Barry please escort Mr. Mela down the hall and take his deposition?”
Tom nodded. “And afterward?”
“He’s free to go. In fact, find him a ride home. If one of our men isn’t heading that way, get him a cab.”
“Yes, sir,” he said, leading Mela out of the office.
“Well,” said Simmons, leaning back in his chair, “you delivered him. And when you didn’t show yesterday, before I got word about what had happened, I brought in the girl just to be on the safe side.”
“Mitzi Cramer?”
He nodded. “That’s when we impounded the ring.” Suddenly he smiled. “What she’s doing outside of Playboy or Penthouse I don’t know.” The grin got bigger. “You wouldn’t believe how many cops offered to take her home.”
I chuckled at that. “So what’s next?”
“We bring Delahunt in, of course.”
“Today?”
“If he’s home or at work, yes. If not, we issue a B.O.L.O. for him. I think we’ve got the goods on him. Maybe not for murder, but surely for stealing the diamonds.”
“I’ve never even seen the man,” I said. “You mind if I stick around?”
“No problem,” he said. “He’ll be lawyered up, of course. And you can’t sit in the interrogation room, but you can watch and listen through the one-way glass.”
“Sounds good,” I said. “I’m going to go out and grab a quick lunch. No way you bring him in before I get back.”
“Hell, it’ll take a couple of hours. You know he’s not talking to anyone until he’s got his lawyer at his side.”
“That gives me time to head up to Rascal’s,” I said.
“The deli?”
I nodded. “The best in town. Doesn’t everyone want blintzes and chopped liver right before nailing a killer?”
“Some of us prefer lox and knishes,” he said.
“Hint taken,” I replied. “I’ll bring some back for you.”
“You’re a good man, Eli,” he said. “Even if I do have to buy the tickets for the Bengals game.”
“I hope it’s that easy,” I said. “But let’s get him to confess first.”
“Let’s also keep it legal and un-include you from the ‘let’s,’” he said. “Now go. I’m gonna be starved in two hours.”
I went.
29.
I hit some traffic coming back from Rascal’s, and I got to headquarters about forty minutes later than I’d planned to. And on the way in I almost bumped into Tyler Grange, wearing one of his usual twelve-hundred-dollar suits and a pair of four-hundred-dollar shoes.
“Hello, Eli,” he said. “Long time no see.”
“Hi, Tyler,” I replied. “Here to defend the meek and disposed, as usual?”
He gave me a deprecating little chuckle. “Just here for a deposition.”
“Would I be dead wrong if I suggested that you’re representing Abner Delahunt?” I asked.
He looked surprised. “You know Abner?”
“Never met him in my life,” I said truthfully.
“Well, I don’t know how you come by your information,” he said, frowning, “but yes, I’m representing him.”
“Can I give you a little hint?”
“Sure,” he said with a phony smile. “Innocent or guilty?”
“That�
�s up to a jury to decide,” I said. “If it gets that far.”
“That’s why he’s got me,” said Grange. “To make sure if it gets that far that he’s innocent of whatever he’s charged with.” He paused. “And your hint about this man you’ve never met?”
“Don’t charge him more than minimum wage, Tyler.”
He frowned, “I beg your pardon?”
“He’s dead broke.”
The frown increased. “What makes you think so?”
“Just a hunch,” I said.
“Well, you’re wrong. The man has a dozen real estate offices.”
“Whatever you say,” I replied. Besides, it’ll do you good to do some pro bono work.
“I have to go,” he said. “I have some business to transact.”
I shook his hand but didn’t wish him luck. He went off toward the holding cells, which meant that Delahunt was already in custody, and I brought Simmons his lunch.
“Thanks,” he said.
“I ran into Tyler Grange down the hall,” I told him.
“Yeah, he’s representing Delahunt,” answered Simmons. He frowned. “He’s damned good. He could make this much more difficult.”
“You’ve got everything you need,” I said. “Mela, Mitzi, and the diamonds. Or you soon will have it, anyway.”
“Oh, we can prove he stole the diamonds. Proving that he murdered Palanto will be harder.”
“He’s new to this,” I said. “You’ll trip him up.”
“I hope so.”
“I wish I could sit in on it,” I said.
He shook his head. “You know you can’t. Settle for watching and listening from the next room.”
“So who’s going to be questioning him?”
“Wayne Perin’s our best at it,” he answered. “I’ve filled him in on all the details, and he’s spoken to Mela and Mitzi. And I’ll probably sit in on it too.”
“I hope you nail the bastard,” I said. “Originally all I wanted was to find the diamonds, but they’re worth nothing to me now, and a man died saving my life.”