Donald put a small bottle of Schweppes on the bar and opened it. “I think I saw you on the news. The camera did a shot of the crowd at the armory. Some party!”
“Right.” Thorpe poured the club soda into an ice-filled glass. “Listen, I’m in arrears here. Don’t put that on a chit.” He slid a dollar across the bar and Donald palmed it and stuffed it in his pocket.
Thorpe said, “Has anyone spoken to you about that Edwards guy?”
Donald nodded gloomily. “Cop named Spinelli. Hey, I didn’t tell him about the envelope.”
Thorpe said, “Oh, you could have. I have to speak to Spinelli anyway, and I’ll tell him. So, if you did, no problem.” Thorpe squeezed a lemon wedge in his glass.
Donald poured himself a Coke. “Well… I didn’t know, and I figured you wanted it on the q.t. So I didn’t say anything. I wanted to check with you first. Then I could say later I just forgot. You know?”
“Sure. I appreciate it.” Thorpe drained off the club soda.
Donald looked around and spoke quietly. “What’s with this Edwards guy? His name’s Carbury, right? You knew that.”
Thorpe shrugged. “I don’t really know much—” Thorpe suppressed a belch. “Excuse me. That felt good… No, I don’t really know. They think he got mugged. Maybe stuck.”
“Oh, Jesus. That don’t look good. I mean a high-class Englishman and all. Gives the city a bad name.” He shook his head sadly, then said, “There was nothing about it in the papers.”
“Really? By the way, when did Spinelli speak to you?”
“Oh… Friday night. When the cops got here to look at Edwards’ room. He only asked me a few questions. But then he came back Saturday afternoon, about four. When I got on duty. This time he was a little more pushy. He had a whole bunch of questions, and I got the feeling he spoke to you already. But then I thought it might’ve been that guy you were with Friday night. You remember?”
Thorpe nodded. “But you say you didn’t mention I was looking for this guy Edwards?”
“No. Honest. Hey, fuck them. That’s none of their business. Right? I figured you could tell them if you wanted them to know. Members’ privacy got to be protected. Right?”
“Right. When is your appointment downtown?”
Donald looked a bit surprised and uncomfortable. “Tomorrow. My day off. Who needs it?” Donald changed the subject. “Hey, that July Fourth thing. I’d like to work that… but, you know, we get triple time on a holiday.”
“No kidding? I might do it myself.” Thorpe laughed. “Well, no problem. Do you drive?”
“No, I guess I need transportation, too.”
“You got it.” Thorpe looked at his watch. “Well, that’s it for me.” He slipped Donald a twenty-dollar bill. “Thanks.”
“Thank you.”
Thorpe slid off the barstool. “Where you heading?”
The bartender shrugged. “Home, I guess. Nothing happening on a Sunday night.”
“No, there isn’t. Subway, cab, or bus?”
“Subway. North Bronx.”
“Be careful. Banjos and bongos.”
“Hey, tell me about it.”
“I just did.”
31
Katherine Kimberly sat up straight in bed, her heart beating rapidly as her hand groped for the Browning automatic on the night table. She stopped moving and remained motionless, trying to get her bearings. Telephone. Damned telephone. She took a long breath and picked up the receiver. “Yes?” She looked at her clock. It was a few minutes before six.
Thorpe’s voice came on the line. “Good morning. Did I wake you?”
She cleared her throat. “No. I had to get up to answer the phone anyway.”
Thorpe laughed. “Terrible joke. Are you running today?”
“Yes. Where were you last night? I tried to reach you until midnight.”
“Ah, the wicked walk at night. Old Latin proverb.”
“Latin or otherwise, it doesn’t answer the question.”
“The question cannot be answered over an unsecured telephone, my sweet. When are you going to learn the business?”
“Don’t lecture me.”
“Sorry. Listen, are you going to Van Dorn’s bash?”
She sat back against the headboard and took a glass of water from the night table. She finished it, then said, “You called me at six to ask that?”
“I didn’t want to miss you. I knew you’d be running. It starts at about four. Fireworks and music begin at sundown.”
“Oh, God… ”
“I enjoy the show. Listen, I’ve got my boat at the South Street Seaport. Meet me at… let’s say, four.”
“I guess you don’t want to drive?”
“No, I want to float. Beat the holiday traffic. We can be at Glen Cove Marina in forty minutes.”
She said, “Do you know if Pat O’Brien is going? I haven’t heard from him.”
Thorpe replied, “You know, if he wasn’t an older man, and your boss, I’d be jealous of your attentions toward him.”
“I’m fond of him.”
“Everyone is. He’s a gentleman. I try to emulate him. Anyway, I spoke to him yesterday. He can’t make it.”
“Oh… how about Nick? How many people will the boat hold?”
“I can get five in. But Nick had an early meeting in Washington, holiday notwithstanding. He must be on the way to the airport by now. Don’t you want to ride alone with me?”
“I just think that you ought to offer someone a lift. Maybe the Grenvilles.”
“They ran back to the suburbs as soon as the police got through with them Saturday morning.”
“What do you think of what happened?”
Thorpe didn’t speak for some time, then said, “Suspicious. We’ll discuss it later. Anyway, I’ll offer Claudia a lift.”
Katherine looked out her bedroom window. There was a hint of dawn penetrating the alleyway outside her building. She said, “You heard about Arnold, too, of course.”
“Of course. The police are looking for you.”
“I’ll see them in my office Tuesday.”
“Real lawyer. Where are you running this morning?”
“Brooklyn.”
Thorpe said, “Are you running alone?”
“Why do you ask?”
“Well, be careful of muggers.”
“I haven’t yet met a mugger who could keep up with me.” She hesitated, then said, “Tony Abrams is running with me.”
Thorpe didn’t respond for a second, then said, “Ah, that’s interesting.”
“Why?”
“I didn’t know he ran. Why him? He’s not your speed, you know.”
“I’m running right by his place.”
She let the silence drag out, then said, “You’re welcome to come along. It might do you some good.”
“You’re welcome to lift weights with me, practice karate, and navigate the obstacle course at the Farm.”
“I’m not in the mood for one-upmanship. Also, I think your behavior Friday night was crude and uncalled-for. What’s gotten into you?”
“I’m under some pressure—”
“Also, you weren’t around Saturday night, and all day Sunday. And now you call me at six — where are you anyway?”
“The Lombardy. Actually, I’m in the damned garret. With the computer. I’ve been working all night. All weekend. I’ll explain it to you later.”
She drew a deep breath. “Okay… I’ll see you at four.”
“Wait. I may be able to join you. When and where do you start?”
“City Hall at about seven. Then over the Brooklyn Bridge.”
“Too early. Then where?”
“I should be at Tony Abrams’ place by eight. He’s at 75 Henry Street. If you’re going to meet me, do it there, or later.” She gave him the route she expected to follow.
Thorpe said, “I thought Abrams was staying at Thirty-sixth Street.”