“You’re pretty good, but not that good.”
“I’m just warming up.”
“I won’t be around for the finale.”
“Really?”
“This won’t take that long. What do your young ladies do for kicks?” I asked, making it sound as casual as possible. “San Pietro isn’t exactly the Lido.”
“They’re driven into Santa Barbara or Los Angeles when they want to have fun. Sometimes they sneak into town for a movie.”
“Do they do well? I mean, do they make a nice living?”
“Is this going to be twenty questions?”
“Curiosity.”
“Jade, the naked sun goddess, is studying biology at U.C.L.A. She only works summers and holidays. So far, she’s put herself through three years of college, makes straight A’s, and will have a nice little nest egg when she graduates. That answer your question?”
“I was wondering where they bank,” I said, and tried to blow a smoke ring, which fell apart as it left my lips. She blew three perfect ones and stared hard at me as they rose toward the chandelier.
“Do you shill for a bank on the side?” she asked after a minute crept by.
“I’m sure you know about the five hundred a month the woman Verna Hicks Wilensky was getting. I just talked to the notary at one of the banks. She described two of the buyers as five-three or five-four, a hundred and ten pounds, sexy, very fancily dressed for San Pietro. Pleasant, friendly, self-assured. The description could fit either of the naked goddesses down by the pool. And probably all the rest of the gals in your sorority.”
“Or any other good-looking girl five-three or five-four.”
“The descriptions of the buyers all follow the same line. Pretty, far too well dressed for your average San Pietro girl, in their early twenties. Well spoken, good manners, friendly but not overly so…”
“What are you building?”
“As you told me, your girls sneak off to Eureka for an occasional movie but don’t spend time down there.”
“It’s called San Pietro. Eureka is history.”
“Not from where I’m standing. Some things don’t wash off.”
“And you’re different? Your badge makes you any better?”
I thought about that for a moment or two.
“Maybe you’re right, Delilah. Maybe it’s the same gutter no matter how you dress it up.”
“Maybe you better sashay out of here.”
“I’m not through yet. We were talking about your dollhouse. The girls wouldn’t be recognized down in the village. They don’t give their names, they hand the notary an envelope with five Ben Franklins in it and the name of the payee, get the check, put it in an addressed, stamped envelope, and get lost. I’d like to talk to some of the girls.”
“Sure. Just as soon as I fall over dead on the floor.”
“I could get pushy.”
“You could lose that pretty smile of yours.”
“We could do this the hard way, Delilah.”
“ My first name is Miss,” she said harshly. “And you’re up here chasing your own tail. Trying to pin something on me or Culhane or somebody else up here. Let me show you something.”
She led me across the room and pointed to a small photograph mounted on the wall. It was a shot of Brodie and his crew, somewhere in France. The remnants of a town formed the background and they were up to their ankles in mud. Below the photograph, mounted on black velvet, were a Purple Heart and a Silver Star. She stared at Culhane’s figure as though transfixed.
“Why did you leave, Brodie?”
He shrugged. “To see the world.”
“Uh-huh.”
“You want to know the truth? I was running away from what I just came back to.”
She smiled ruefully. “You were sweet on Isabel, Ben was sweet on Isabel, and Isabel was sweet on both of you. Me? I was sweet on you and I couldn’t make it to first base.”
“Hell, we were just kids, Del.”
“Doesn’t make it hurt any the less.”
“We were all good friends. Still are, I should hope.”
“Nothing could ever change that, Brodie.”
She went to the record changer and put on an up-tempo jazz record, “Aunt Hagar’s Children Blues,” and started to dance. Brodie had seen girls in Paris dancing like that, loose, legs flying, swinging to the rhythm of the music.
“C’mon, I’ll teach you to do the Charleston.”
“Can I do it on one leg?” he asked with a smile.
She stopped and lifted the needle off the turntable.
“I’m sorry…”
“Hey, it’s nothing. In another month I’ll be good as new. Still a little gimpy, that’s all.”
She sat down near him.
“Here’s to us,” she said, holding up her glass. When they tapped them, the fine glassware pinged like tiny bells.
“To us,” he echoed. “A month from now you can teach me to dance. Give me an excuse to come by.”
“You’ll never need an excuse, Brodie. Just show up. I’ll give you the key.”
Without looking at me, she said, “Do you know about these men?”
“I’ve met most of them,” I said. “Look, I’m not up here to give anybody grief, particularly a bunch of war heroes. I’m here because I’ve got a job to do and it involves murder and…”
“Go back to L.A. You think anybody up here will give you a nickel’s worth of news? There’s not a man in that picture wouldn’t lie, kill, or die for Culhane. And you can include me in the club.”
“I didn’t say anything specific about Culhane.”
“I think you’re dancing with the idea.”
“I think some of your girls have information that can help me. You want to do it the hard way?”
“Oh? And how would that work?”
“The scenario would go something like this: I send the black wagon up here from L.A. I come in with a fistful of warrants, and we haul a dozen of your ladies down to the city and go in the little room with the bare bulb hanging from the ceiling and get real serious. All we want to know is where they got the bucks to buy some cashier’s checks.”
“You’d have to wade through a couple of lawyers who make more money while they’re taking a leak than you do in a year.”
“I’ve done rounds with the best. Lawyers don’t rattle me, although being in the same room with them usually gives me a rash.”
“You’re an arrogant son of a bitch.”
“I’ve been called a lot worse.”
“I’m sure you have,” she said, standing up. “Well, that’s what you’re going to have to do, so you may as well trot on home and get your warrants.”
“I think you’ve told me enough already.”
“Don’t bang your head on the wall, Sergeant. A couple of dozen very well heeled, very well connected gentlemen come through here every week. Any one of them could have slipped one of the girls some Ben Franklins and asked her to do that little chore. The girls don’t know any of them by name.”
“Then why are you getting wrinkles in your corset?”
“It’s bad for business.”
“So’s murder.”
“I think you should finish your drink and toddle along. You can take the cigar with you.”
She walked across the room and opened the door.
“Swell,” I said. “And I was hoping we’d get along.”
“Save up your money for about ten years and come back; you’ll find out how pleasant I can be,” she answered.
“So long, Delilah,” I said. “Thanks for the drink and the cigar.”
The big colored guy was waiting for me at the front door with my hat.
“Good day, sir,” he said.
“It could have been better,” I told him.
I walked back toward the parking lot. I was guessing that the discreet side door hidden behind the hedgerow probably led to a private room for the locals.
Or maybe it was where the milkman made his morning delivery.
CHAPTER 26
Ski was in the diner when I got back there a little after three. He had commandeered a large booth in one corner and was leafing through his little black notebook.
Brett Merrill was sitting across the room in seersucker, a white shirt, and a blue tie, talking to a well-dressed gentleman who didn’t look like he belonged in a diner. Neither of them did.