have a private line. It‟s listed under D. F. Raines. Chief would love to see you.”
1 didn‟t buy that. To Chief I would just be bad news, a vague face from the past, a painful reminder
that his son was dead. What she was really asking was, Are you coming to Windsong tonight?
“Sure,” I said.
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
She didn‟t just leave, she turned and fled.
I sat back down and looked across the table at Babs, whose mouth was dangling open. She reached up
slowly and pushed it closed with a finger.
“You sly son of a bitch,” she said.
“What‟re you talking about?”
“You know Doe Findley that well?” she said.
“What do you mean, that well?”
“1 mean that well.”
“We knew each other in college. Twenty years ago.”
„Uh-huh, honey. That wasn‟t a „gee it‟s nice to see you again after all these years‟ look. That was a
„where the hell have you been for the last twenty years‟ look.”
“It was probably a shock seeing me again. 1 knew her brother.”
“I don‟t care who you knew. These old eyes are not that bad yet. Twenty years, huh?”
“What are you raving about?” I said to her.
“So where did she fall in love with you? She didn‟t go to Georgia, she went to. . . oh, let‟s see, one of
those snotty colleges up north.”
Now she was doing the coaxing.
“Vassar,” I said. “Real hard to remember.”
“So you have kept track?”
“Through Teddy.”
“Oh, right. And you just sat there, letting me jabber on about the Findleys and Harry Raines. .
“Trash it,” I said.
“Trash it?”
“Trash it. There‟s nothing there.”
She wasn‟t about to back off. She leaned back in her chair and appraised me through narrowed eyes.
“Jake Kilmer. That name ought to mean something to me,” she said.
She sat there struggling with her memories, trying to sort me out of the hundreds of names and faces
from her past. Then recognition slowly brightened her eyes.
“Of course,” she said. “You played football for the Dogs.”
“You have some memory,” I said, wondering how often that interlude was going to keep haunting mc.
I doubt that it had been mentioned once in the last ten years, and now it seemed to pop up every time I
said hello, or maybe it was just popping up in my mind.
“You and Teddy played on the same team, didn‟t you?”
“For a while.”
“She‟s not a real happy woman, Khmer,”
“1-low would you know that?”
“1 know everything, darling, it‟s what I do, remember? I‟m the town snoop.”
“I thought you said Raines had a wonderful family.”
“I didn‟t say he had a happy one. Raines is married to politics and Doe doesn‟t play second fiddle
well at all.”
“People seem to think she married well.”
“Tom Findley couldn‟t have picked a better man for the job.”
“Christ, you are bitchy.”
“I like Doe,” she said, ignoring the slur. “She‟s very honest. Not too bright, though, do you think?”
“I don‟t remember. When I was in college I thought everybody was brilliant but me.”
“She had an affair, you know.”
I leaned over toward her. “1 haven‟t heard a word about her since Teddy died, okay? I am not hooked
into the Dunetown hot line.”
“You‟re really not going to ask who she had the affair with?”
“Nope.”
“It was Tony Lukatis.”
“No kidding. Little old Tony, huh?”
“You‟re much too blasé to really be blasé, I know it. I know all the tricks. Listen, we have name
entertainers coming out to the beach hotels now. I get some big-time gossip. They all try to act blasé,
too, but it doesn‟t work—and they‟ve been at it forever. Tony Lukatis was the guy. The golf pro at the
country club. His father was the manager.”
My memory jumped back to that summer like the ball bouncing over the lyrics of a song at an oldtime movie matinee.
“Nick?”
“Ah, you do remember.”
“I remember Nick. I don‟t remember Tony.”
But then suddenly I did remember him, a little kid with incredibly curly hair who spent most of his
time on the putting green when he wasn‟t caddying. He must have been fifteen or sixteen that
summer.
“Aha, I see recognition in those green eyes.”
“Yeah, he‟s younger than she is.”
“The best kind, darling.”
“He had a sister.”
“Dierdre.. . DeeDee?” Babs pressed on.
“Skinny little kid, used to hang around the club?” I asked. “Skinny little kid? I can tell you haven‟t see
her in a while.” “What‟s she doing these days?” I asked, trying to seem interested.
“She‟s Charlie Seaborn‟s secretary—Seacoast National Bank.”
“Did Raines know about the affair?” I tried not to sound too interested.
“Not so you could tell.”
“What happened?”
“Poor little „Tony. Rumour has it he decided to get rich quick arid got mixed up in some pot
smuggling. He went to prison for five years. I‟ve lost track of him since. It almost killed DeeDee.”
The conversation was cutting close to the bone. I decided it was time to ease on out.
“You‟ve been a lot of help,” I said. “I‟ve got to get moving but I owe you a drink.”
“You better believe you do, dearie,” she said. “You know how to get in touch. And if you don‟t, I
will.”
I headed out of the restaurant, feeling like I had barely averted disaster.
No such luck.
20
HIDE AND SEEK
Stick was hiding behind the morning paper in the lobby of the hotel when I left the restaurant. He
flashed that crazy smile of his when I spotted him.
“Not bad, not bad at all,” he said. “Doe Findley and Babs Thomas for breakfast. And I was afraid
you‟d get lonely.”
“Strictly business,” I said.
“Hey,” he said, spreading his arms out at his sides, “1 never doubted it for a minute.”
“I‟m sure you have my social calendar filled for the day,” I said. “What‟s up?”
“A little war conference with the troops.”
“You mean they‟re speaking to me?”
“They‟re thinking about it,” he said, leading me out the door. His Black Maria was hunched down in
the loading zone, like it was looking for trouble.
“Why don‟t I take my car?” I suggested. “In case we have to split up.”
“No worry,” he said, opening the door for me. “I‟m your tour guide for the day. It was a raffle. I lost.”
“Keep it under ninety, will you?” I asked as I got in.
“It stutters under ninety,” he answered.
“Fine, let‟s listen to it stutter for a while.”
He took me to a bright, airy place in a row house overlooking the river. It didn‟t look like a restaurant;
it was more like having coffee in someone‟s living room. The place was about five minutes away,
hardly time for the Maria to get up to speed, for which I was momentarily thankful. I was sure I
wouldn‟t be that lucky for the entire day. Zapata, Salvatore, and Flowers were seated at a table in the
back.
“Hey, Mildred,” Salvatore yelled across the room as we entered, “two more javas.”
They all stared at me as I approached their table.
“What‟s the matter, is my fly open?” I asked as 1 sat down.
“Sorry,” Charlie One Ear said. “We haven‟t seen you in the daytime.”
“What you see, gentlemen, is a ruin,” I said. “Give me a couple of days to get some sun. I look much
better with a decent night‟s sleep and a little colour.”
“It‟s the fluorescent lights in the Warehouse,” Charlie One Ear 1oked. “They give everyone a ghastly