This Dame for Hire (19 page)

“I tell ya, there’s one born every thirty seconds.”

“Ya can say that again. And he got a load a money both times before anyone caught on. But there musta been plenty who didn’t.

“The wheelchair got him six months, the other, three. And the jail time was only cause the piker wouldn’t pay a fine.”

“Listen, Marty, he knew Claudette West. He says she was a customer. His mother says he was in love with her. I’m beginnin to think maybe he killed her.”

“Why would he?”

“Maybe he was tryin to pull his scam again with Claudette, and she found out and threatened him. Maybe she led him on, then dropped him. Maybe she sweet-talked him, but he saw her with other guys.”

“Ya think maybe he beaned ya?”

“It’s lookin more like that with each passin minute.”

“Don’t ya think it’s, well, queer that this character lives in your buildin?”

Cops believed in coincidence less than I did. “Yeah, I do. But ya know, somethin just occurred to me. He only moved in about a month ago. I wasn’t on the case then, but as ya know it was in all the rags that I found Claudette.”

“Yer thinkin maybe he tracked ya down and there just happened to be an empty apartment in this buildin?”

“Why not? And that apartment was vacant for months.”

“Okay. Let’s say that’s true. Why is he interested in
you
? Especially since ya wasn’t on the case yet?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Ya know what, Faye? I think we should ask him.”

“When?”

“Now.”

“His mother’s with him.”

“So we’ll have the jerk come down here. What number is his crib?”

I told him. “Ya sure this is a good idea, Marty?”

“Why not? If nothin else, we get him rattled. And I don’t think he’ll come after you no more.”

I had a sec when I didn’t want to be left alone, but I blew it away as having the heebie-jeebies for no real reason. Nobody was gonna bust into my place while Marty was upstairs. Besides, the most likely one to do that was the same guy Marty was going after.

“You’ll be okay?”

“Sure. Go.”

When he was gone, I was sorry I hadn’t told him to lock up and take my keys. But then he woulda known I was a scaredy cat, and that wouldna been good for me and him working together.

I’d never been attacked before, and it sorta had me rattled. I didn’t remember Woody warning me about that. He said a lotta stuff before he left, told me to watch my back, be careful, but not that I might get clobbered. Least I didn’t think he did.

I slowly inched forward on the sofa and reached my pack of butts, shook one loose, and lit up. The thing was, whoever kayo’d me wasn’t out to kill me, so what was the point? Was it a high sign for me to take a powder from the case? The only person who’d care one way or another would be the killer. So he knew where I lived and had followed me home from Blondell’s. And I knew it was a man cause of those footsteps I heard.

Would the next time be more than a warning? Would he kill me as well? But even if he knocked me off, wouldn’t the Wests hire somebody else? Well, nobody ever said murderers were smart.

The door opened, and I held my breath until I saw Marty. Jim Duryea was right behind him.

“Mr. Duryea has agreed to honor us with his company.”

Jim smiled weakly.

“Take a load off, Mr. Duryea.” Marty pointed to my reading chair.

As he sat he said, “Please call me Jim.”

“Okay. Would ya like a drink or anything, Jimbo?”

“Nothing, thank you.”

“You okay, Faye?”

“Solid.”

Marty sat on the other sofa, putting Jim between us.

“Jimbo, we got a few questions, like I told ya upstairs.”

I wondered how Marty had gotten him to come down.

“I certainly hope we didn’t wake my mother.”

Ah. “Were ya yellin?” I asked.

“Our pal here got a little riled up at one point, didn’t ya, Jimbo?”

“Do you have to call me ‘Jimbo’? I’d prefer Jim.”

“Right.”

“What did ya get riled up about, Jim?” I asked.

“Well, I . . . it’s hard to explain.”

“I think he doesn’t wanna talk about Claudette.”

“No. I don’t.”

“Have ya told Jim about what we know, Marty?”

“Not yet.”

“Know? What do you know?”

Marty took a pad outta his pocket, flipped it open, and pretended to study what was there.

“Let’s see now. We know about the wheelchair con for one.”

“Wheelchair con?”

“Yeah, the first one that landed ya behind bars.”

Jim looked like he’d eaten a bad piece of rabbit. And then he put his head in his hands. Marty and I looked at each other. We knew he’d spill the beans now.

Duryea mumbled something.

“Speak up, Jimbo. We can’t hear ya.”

He lifted his head. “My mother doesn’t know about any of this. She thinks I was out of the country for those six months. I had a friend forward my mail from India.”

“And the three months?” I asked.

“Africa.”

“Let’s talk about tonight,” Marty said.

“What about it?”

“Did you knock out Faye?”

“God, no. I like Faye.”

I said, “How come you moved into this building? And don’t tell me it was cause ya liked the apartment.”

“I
did
like the apartment. But that wasn’t the only reason.”

“Faye was the other reason, wasn’t she?”

“Yes.”

“Cause of Claudette?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“I wasn’t even on the case yet, Jim.”

“But I knew about you. You found her.”

“You kill Claudette, Jimbo?”

I couldn’t believe Marty was asking him that.

“Kill her? I loved her.”

“Let me run this by ya, Jimbo. Claudette found out some con you was cookin up and ya had to get her outta the way.”

“No. I told you, I loved her. And I’ve gone straight. No more cons.”

“So why did ya want to be here . . . in this buildin . . . cause of me?”

“It’s stupid. You’ll laugh at me.”

“Nobody’s laughin,” Marty said.

“I picked up the paper and there was Claudette, front page, and the headline
SOCIALITE MURDERED
.”

“You told me ya didn’t know she was dead.”

“I lied. I didn’t want my mother to know I read the papers. All she knew about Claudette was that she hadn’t come back to the shop, that’s all.”

“Ya always tell yer mother when yer interested in a broad?” Marty asked.

“I know how it sounds, but I do.”

“It sounds like what it is,” I said.

“Yeah? What is it, Faye?” Marty asked.

“Givin Mama scraps.”

“Something like that,” Jim said. “She’s the most intrusive person I’ve ever met, and I can’t not tell her something because she’ll go out and mess around in my life until she finds out what it is she wants to know. So I gave her just enough.”

“Which was what?”

“Claudette’s name, and that I found her appealing. I told her about the lunch and then later that she hadn’t come into the shop again. I invited you to dinner, Faye, hoping it would come out that Claudette was dead. Then my mother would stop taunting me with her disappearance from my life.”

“Ya know, Jimbo, this still doesn’t explain why ya moved in here to be close to Faye.”

“It doesn’t, does it?”

We stared at him, waiting.

“I wanted to be close to Faye because she was one of the last people to see Claudette.”

“But she was dead when I found her.”

“I know. It didn’t make any difference. Being near you, even if it was as an upstairs neighbor, made me feel closer to Claudette. It was a kind of tie to her, and that was better than nothing. It made me feel I’d hung on to some small piece of her.”

“Well,” Marty said, “that’s what makes horse races.”

TWENTY-ONE

Like they say, I was back to square one. Not entirely cause I still had Cotten, ex-boyfriend; Brian Wayne, English professor; Leon Johnson, aka Rockefeller; and Jim Duryea in my sights. And if I wanted to, I could’ve added
Mrs.
Duryea to my list, but I didn’t want to.

She had motive, maybe opportunity if I ran it down, and probably means, but it didn’t sit right with me. I couldn’t picture Dragon Lady out in the snow on Bleecker Street at ten o’clock in the
P.M
., whacking Claudette West, no matter how jealous she was of her. It just didn’t gel.

Jim Duryea and the rest of the group were pretty flimsy suspects, but they were all I had so far.

My notes were in my office, and I was taking the day like I’d been told to. It made me mad that I hadn’t outfoxed my attacker. If Woody knew about it, he’d probably have me close down the office. I’d called Birdie to tell her, but it was strictly on the q.t. Not that she was gonna tell Woody, she’d never even met him, but it made me feel better to keep it hush-hush. Who was I kidding? The whole neighborhood knew. The mouth of Dolores alone could get it in the
Daily News,
should they be short of stories.

I had a slight headache, and every so often my vision was blurred up. Lying around never appealed to me, and my eyes kept me from reading. So I put on the radio for company and sorta listened to Don McNeil’s
Breakfast Club.

While I was lying there, I decided I had to work backward. What was Claudette doing on Bleecker that night? Was she
going
to meet someone or
coming
from seeing someone?

As for the father of Claudette’s unborn child, there was no one I could rule out. Not even Johnson/Rockefeller, cause no matter what he said about no sex, it didn’t have to be true. I hadn’t asked Cotten about their sex life cause, I had to admit, it hadn’t entered my noggin. How could I’ve been such a dumb bunny? Well, I was learning on the job, after all.

But maybe that wasn’t it, me being a knucklehead. Asking about people sleeping together was always a tricky question. And at the time I saw Cotten I didn’t know Claudette was three months pregnant when she died.

Course this brought me back to Brian Wayne. I’d have to check on sex between Cotten and Claudette, but if that didn’t pan out, Brian Wayne was the obvious next choice. Maybe he was the first choice. Even so, I had to ask Cotten first.

I started feeling excited, like I wasn’t at a dead end after all. But I was sidelined, on the bench, having to rest.

I sat up and slowly swung my drumsticks over the edge of the sofa so I was sitting straight up, feet on the floor. I felt a little dizzy, but that passed. Pushing off with a hand on the sofa arm, I stood, real gingerly. The dizziness happened again, but like the first time, after a few secs, it did a Judge Crater. The trick was to take a few steps. I did. I felt fine, well, maybe a little wobbly, but I knew that would fade. I took a few more steps, then another few, and before I knew it I was in my bathroom. I wanted to take a bath, but I was afraid I might fall, so I washed up as best as I could and then went into my bedroom. I picked out a nice polka-dot dress and red pumps to match. No creep in the night was gonna keep me down.

When I was ready, I sat at my telephone table and dialed. Cotten answered on the second ring. I told him who I was.

“I thought you were through with me.”

“Did I say that?”

“No.”

“Okay, then. I have to ask ya a question, Richard. It may be embarrassin, but I need to know.”

“What?”

I could feel myself blushing. I wasn’t sure how to put it. And I didn’t even know if he knew she was pregnant. Then I realized I should do it that way.

“Well, this may or may not come as a bolt outta the blue, I don’t know.”

“Would you please just ask. I have a class I have to get to, and I’m going to be late as it is.”

Okay, smarty pants. “Did you know Claudette was pregnant when she died?”

There was a long silence on the other end, but I could hear him breathing.

“Richard?”

“Yes. I’m here.”

“Did ya know?”

“No. I didn’t.”

“Was it yours? The baby?”

“No.”

“You sound pretty sure of that.”

“I am.”

I knew the answer, but I had to ask anyway. “How come yer so sure?”

“You’re right. This is embarrassing. I’m sure because I never slept with Claudette. She wouldn’t.”

“Never?”

“Never.”

“Got any idea who the father might be?”

Silence and breathing again.

“Richard? Ya got any idea?”

“Do you know how pregnant she was? I mean, how many months?”

“Three months. Why?”

“Oh.”

“Oh?”

“Well, six months before she died we stopped seeing each other for a short time.”

“What’s a short time?”

“Two weeks.”

“She seein somebody else then?”

“I don’t know. She said she wasn’t, but if she’d been six months pregnant then it would’ve been during that time.”

“Did you believe her, Richard? That she hadn’t stepped out on ya?”

“We’d broken up. She wouldn’t have been
stepping out
on me.”

Touchy. “Yer right. It wouldn’t a been that. But did ya believe her that she hadn’t dated anyone durin that time?”

“I didn’t say she hadn’t dated anyone. You asked if she had been
seeing
anyone. The implication is—”

“Yeah, yeah, yer right.” I wanted to give this joker a kick in the keister. “So who was she datin?”

“She told me she had one date.”

“Who with?” No wonder Claudette dumped this guy.

“I think his name was Garfield.”

“First name or last?”

“Last. I can’t think of his first name.”

“Ya gotta try, Richard.”

“What difference does it make? It’s the wrong time period, and Claudette would never have slept with a man she went out with one time.”

I didn’t think it would be helpful to suggest that the lack of sex he’d had with Claudette might have been his own fault.

“Do ya think she might’ve seen him again later?”

“You mean when we were back together?” He sounded like this would be impossible.

“Well, yeah.”

“Claudette would never have cheated on me.”

Why should I clue in this also-ran that she probably had a lotta boyfriends while she was supposed to be with him? “Can ya think of Garfield’s first name, Richard?”