“Do you have another engagement this evening?” she asked. “A date?” Her pretty lips twisted into a smirk as she stood before me.
“No,” I said. “That’s not it.”
“Well then,” she said. “Let’s go. Carolina’s is just up the street.”
I hesitated for a moment. I was weakening and she could see it. She moved a step closer and lifted her face up to mine and then the phone rang.
I pulled away, turned my back on her, and answered it. “Derringer and Carl.”
“What are you doing asking questions about a corpse?” said the familiar, high barking voice on the phone. “You’re forgetting your role.”
“Screw you,” I said to Chuckie Lamb, suddenly defensive about my visit to Slocum and examination of the murder evidence, all contrary to my client’s firm instructions. “I’m just doing my job.”
“Your job is not to sneak into the DA’s office and plot. Your job is to sit quietly and shut up. That’s what they’re paying you to do.”
“I know what my job is,” I said. “What I don’t know is why you are so pissed off that I’m doing it. Although I have my suspicions.”
“Oh, you’re a brain all right, Vic,” he said. “You keep looking and you might find something you don’t want to find, something that could get you hurt.”
“So that’s the way it is,” I said. “What this call is all about.” I tried to sound hard but I could feel the flutter of fear rise along my spine. I had never been threatened before, not like that, not by someone like Chuckie Lamb, who I had no doubt could turn murderous if he wanted to, who maybe already had.
“I just think you should know exactly what you’re getting into, Vic.”
“You’re doing me a public service, is that it?”
“Now you got it.”
“Give me one reason I should listen to you and be afraid.”
“I’ll give you a quarter of a million reasons, you small-time loser.”
I turned around suddenly. Veronica was standing by the far wall, looking at a print of some flowers, but it wasn’t a very interesting print. Vimhoff had bought it for fifteen bucks, framed, and I doubted if it grabbed all of Veronica’s attention. Did she know who I was talking to? I didn’t want her to know, didn’t want her to have anything to do with my role in this case. I lowered my voice. I knew there was a $250,000 discrepancy between the funds claimed to be given to Concannon by Ruffing and the funds apparently received by CUP, though until that moment I hadn’t focused on it. But Chuckie had made a slip, had inadvertently let me know that it was important.
“So where are they?” I asked, still looking at the pretty curve of Veronica’s back. “All those reasons.”
“Lay off and you’ll live longer,” said Chuckie Lamb.
“So it is a threat, isn’t it?” My hand started to shake and I couldn’t stop it. I grabbed the receiver with the other hand. That helped, but not much. “It’s been a pleasure, but I can’t talk anymore now,” I said. “There’s someone here.”
“Someone I might know?”
“None of your business.”
“Someone involved with the case?”
“Not really.”
“Long legs, thin hips, the face of a spoiled child?”
Just that instant Veronica turned around and looked at me. “Yes, actually,” I said. “That’s it exactly.”
“Then you are as good as wasted already,” he said.
“Anything interesting?” asked Veronica after Chuckie had hung up and I held the telephone in a still shaking hand.
“No,” I said, putting the phone down slowly. “It was nothing. Just another debt collector.”
“Oh, the terrible strain,” she said. “I can see it on you. You simply must come with me for a drink. To calm your nerves.” It was not a question, it was a statement of fact, and before I could convince myself that I really ought to refuse she said, “Besides, Jimmy wants you to join us for dinner and he insisted I don’t accept no for an answer.”
Carolina’s is one of those places where suits congregate after office hours to pretend their lives are worthy of a beer commercial. There’s a restaurant that serves squab and monkfish and asparagus bundles tied with a yellow silk ribbon, but the real action is off to the side, where women with flat bellies go to have their drinks bought for them by Italian suits standing three layers deep at the bar. Guthrie and I used to go to Carolina’s when we were still partners and still friends and we’d laugh at the scene, even as we scanned for a pair of willing eyes. Guthrie is a handsome dog, broad and swarthy, and he’d usually end up leaning over something comely, laying on his saccharine charm as I clutched my beer, my back against the wall, watching. If there was a friend he’d call me over, but that never worked because after Guthrie had his choice the friend was generally not much worth it or, if she was, she’d have her eye on Guthrie. I always associated Carolina’s with failure, so I hated everything about the place, the too expensive drinks, the blank white walls, the forced expressions of self-satisfaction that were worn there like a uniform. But I must admit, it felt different to be there with a beautiful woman who laughed at my jokes and leaned close as she whispered her confidences.
“My jaw is too heavy,” she said, rubbing the back of her fingers along her jawbone. “It’s like the jaw of a wrestler.”
“You’re being silly,” I said. “Do you want another drink?”
“Of course. No, it’s not silly. I have a jaw like that giant wrestler, what was his name, Alex or something.”
I waved for the bartender. “Andre the Giant?”
“Yes. I have a jaw like his.”
“No you don’t. Your jaw is beautiful.”
“You’re sweet to lie for me. Here, feel it.” She took my hand and placed my palm upon her jawline. Her hand was cool and dry, her cheek smooth. My thumb rested in the hollow beneath her chin. She held my hand there for moment. “That’s why the modeling didn’t work. That and my legs.”
“Now you’re being very silly. Another Sea Breeze and Absolut martini,” I said to the bartender, who nodded at me while he stared at Veronica.
“We have to go soon,” she said. “After this drink. We’re meeting them at a place on Tenth Street. A private room. It’s all very serious.”
“What does Jimmy want to see me for?”
“Chet will be there,” she said. “Chet’s always there. And I think your friend Prescott.”
“And Chuckie too, I assume.”
“No, not Chuckie. He’s off visiting his mother.”
“His mother, huh? He doesn’t seem the type.”
“Oh, he’s always off visiting his mother. But I think they want to talk about the trial anyway and, as far as the trial goes, Chuckie’s out of the loop.” Now that was interesting. So Chuckie wasn’t threatening me on behalf of Chester or the councilman. He wasn’t authorized to make the call, he was freelancing, threatening me only on behalf of Chuckie.
“How can you drink that?” she said, pointing to the bright purple Sea Breeze in the highball glass the bartender placed in front of me.
“It tastes like summer. Besides, if I started drinking martinis I’d collapse before I could step out of this place.”
“Cheers,” she said, lifting her clear martini glass and downing a swallow. “Some nights I need a start on the champagne.”
“Victor Carl, Victor Carl,” said a loud nasal voice that I recognized immediately. “Looking very sharp indeed.” I felt something in the pit of my stomach the moment I heard that voice. Its owner was a tall, handsome man with short black hair, greased and combed straight back. Athletic shoulders filled his olive-green suit. He had a smartass smile and a bright yellow tie and he slapped me hard on the back as if I were a fraternity buddy.