“Okay, Father,” Bannion said. “I’ve sounded extremely stupid, I realize. I’m sorry. Good hunting.”
“Why, thanks!” Father Masterson said with a pleased smile.
Bannion walked to his car and slid in behind the wheel, feeling something other than hate inside him for the first time since Kate had been murdered. Ahead of him the street looked quiet and innocent. Living room lights shone comfortably into the darkness. It was about as quiet and innocent as a ticking bomb, Bannion thought, as he stepped on the starter...
Debby was awake when he returned to the hotel. She was in bed and the lights were out, but she said, “Bannion?” in a quick scared voice when he opened the door.
“Yes, it’s Bannion,” he said. “How are you feeling?”
“Oh, I’m great,” she said in a low voice.
“Mind a little light?”
“No, I guess not. I’ve got to get used to being looked at sometime.”
Bannion turned on the bed-side lamp. He saw that she had put on lipstick, and had made an attempt to comb her hair. “You’re looking better already,” he said. She lay with her arms outside the covers, pressed close to her slim body, and her face turned toward the wall. “Oh, I’m a knockout,” she said.
He got a glass of water from the bathroom and put her pills on the table. “It’s time for these,” he said. “Excuse me, I’m going to get a drink from my room.” He didn’t wish to embarrass her with his presence while she went about the clumsy business of sitting up and taking the pills. When he returned she was lying flat, her face averted; but the water and pills were gone.
Bannion sat down. “How about food? You must be hungry.”
“I’m okay.”
“You’ve got to eat. How about some chicken soup?”
“All right,” she said. “I’m a damn nuisance, I know. Why don’t you bounce me out of here?”
“Do you want to go?”
“—No.”
“Okay, stop talking that way then,” Bannion said. “I’ll order something for you on my way out.” He sipped his drink, frowning slightly, and then picked up her room phone.
“Are you going right out?”
“Yes, I must.”
She smiled weakly. “Can’t you just talk to me for a little while first?”
Bannion hesitated and then put the receiver back in place. “This isn’t much fun for you, is it?”
“Not much,” she said. “I feel like something that’s been shut up because no one wants to look at it. I just lie here and think, that’s all.” She smiled, but it was a lop-sided effort. “For a gal who spent most of her life not thinking, it’s a pretty rough routine.”
“It won’t last forever.”
“What was your wife like, Bannion,” she said slowly. “I know she’s dead. I remember reading about it. That’s why you pushed me out that first night. Maybe that was the reason, anyway.”
Bannion stared at her, his face perfectly still. “She was a tall girl, twenty-seven years old, with red hair and light blue eyes. She wore a size twelve dress, I think.” He stopped and looked at the drink in his hand.
“That’s a police description,” Debby said, with a little laugh. “That doesn’t tell me anything. Did she like to cook, did she like to be surprised, what kind of things struck her as funny — that’s what I mean.”
Bannion stood and walked slowly to the window. He stared down at the neon jungle of Arch Street, saw the rain shining on the car tracks, and two sailors running along the sidewalk, the collars of their peajackets turned up about their necks.
“I’m sorry, Bannion,” she said in a low voice. “I’m a dummy. You don’t want to talk about her. Not with me, I mean.”
“I don’t want to talk about her with anyone,” Bannion said, coming back to his chair.
“I’m sorry.”
“There’s nothing to be sorry about,” he said. He picked up the phone and gave the operator a number. He tried to push the tangled memories of Kate from his mind, for now, for just a little longer. This call might be the pay-off, the beginning of the pay-off.
“You going out?” Debby said.
“Yes, I’m sorry.” The phone buzzed at the other end.
“There’s nothing to be sorry about,” she said, using his phrase deliberately. Her voice wasn’t bitter, although she meant it to be; it was only unhappy.
The connection was made. A sharp, alert voice said, “Hello?”
Bannion motioned Debby to be silent. “Lieutenant Wilks?” he said.
“That’s right. Who’s this?”
“This is Dave Bannion, Lieutenant.”
Wilks said hello again, quickly and heartily. They exchanged how-are-yous? and fine-thanks, and then there came a pause, a waiting humming silence. Bannion grinned without humor, and said, “The reason I called, Lieutenant, is that I’d like to see you tonight if that’s possible.”
Debby glanced curiously at Bannion. His voice was faintly tinged with entreaty.
“Well, let’s see,” Wilks said. “Actually, Dave, tomorrow would be better. How about dropping in at the office?”
“I’d rather make it tonight,” Bannion said. “This is important, to me at least. I talked with Parnell, the county detective, this evening about the Lucy Carroway murder.”
He waited, still smiling tightly, as the silence came again, the straining anxious silence.
“What’s your interest in that murder, Dave?” Wilks said, at last.
“That’s what I’d like to see you about.”
“All right, come on out. I’ll be expecting you,” Wilks said. There was no pause this time; his voice was sharp and cold.
“In half an hour,” Bannion said. He put the phone in its cradle and got to his feet.
“Gosh, butter wouldn’t melt in your mouth,” Debby said.
“It wasn’t altogether an act. If I sounded worried, it’s because I am,” Bannion said. “Well, I’ll have something sent up for you. I’ll leave the key with you. Be sure to lock yourself in.”
“You sound excited. Have you got a lead?”
Bannion glanced at her, understanding, and touched by her interest. She wanted to mean something to someone, to be a part, if only a verbal part, of some other human being’s plans, hopes and needs. He felt for her a little of the pity that his hatred had denied to himself.
“Well, it’s a try for a lead,” he said. “Wish me luck, Debby.”
“I do, I do,” she said, in a low voice. “I hope you get them, Bannion. I hope you get them all.”
“Thanks, Debby.” He patted her hand and left the room.
Chapter 15
Bannion asked the desk clerk to have some chicken soup, crackers and tea sent up to Debby. The clerk said, “Right away, certainly,” He paused, glanced around the lobby, then leaned closer to Bannion. “There was a man in asking about her five or ten minutes ago. I told him she couldn’t see anyone, doctor’s orders, and he said thanks and walked out.”
“I see. What did he look like?”
“He was middle-aged and rather flashily dressed. I didn’t like his looks, frankly.”
Some character of Stone’s, Bannion thought. “Okay, nobody sees her, remember that,” he said to the clerk.
“Yes, sir, Mr. Bannion.”
He wondered if he should call Debby, and decided against worrying her; she was okay for the moment. Stone could watch and wait now, until she tried to leave town. Then, if he still wanted her back, he could do something about it.