Eight Million Ways to Die

by Lawrence Block

Page 12

 

  My ex-wife Anita. Chance, the pimp whod killed Kim Dakkinen. And somebody named Faber. I didnt know anybody named Faber, unless he was some drunk whod become a long-lost buddy during my drunken wanderings.

  I discarded the slip with his number and weighed a trip downstairs against the hassle of placing a call through the hotel operator. If I hadnt poured out the bourbon I might have had a drink just about then. Instead I went downstairs and called Anita from the lobby booth.

  It was a curious conversation. We were carefully polite, as we often are, and after wed circled one another like first-round prizefighters she asked me why Id called. "Im just returning your call," I said. "Im sorry it took me awhile. "

  "Returning my call?"

  "Theres a message that you called Monday. "

  There was a pause. Then she said, "Matt, we spoke Monday night. You called me back. Dont you remember?"

  I felt a chill, as if someone had just scraped a piece of chalk on a blackboard. "Of course I remember," I said. "But how did this slip get back in my box? I thought youd called a second time. "

  "No. "

  "I must have dropped the message slip and then some helpful idiot returned it to my box, and it got handed to me just now and I thought it was another call. "

  "Thats what must have happened. "

  "Sure," I said. "Anita, Id had a couple drinks when I spoke to you the other night. My memorys a little vague. You want to remind me what we talked about in case theres anything I forgot?"

  We had talked about orthodontia for Mickey. Id told her to get another opinion. I remembered that part of the conversation, I assured her. Was there anything else? I had said I was hoping to send more money soon, a more substantial contribution than Id made lately, and paying for the kids braces shouldnt be any problem. I told her I remembered that part, too, and she said that was about all, except that of course Id talked to the children. Oh, sure, I told her. I remembered my conversation with the boys. And that was all? Well, then, my memory wasnt so bad after all, was it?

  I was shaking when I hung up the phone. I sat there and tried to summon up a memory of the conversation she had just described and it was hopeless. Everything was a blank from the moment just before the third drink Sunday night to the time Id come out of it in the hospital. Everything, all of it, gone.

  I tore up the message slip, tore it in half again, put the scraps in my pocket. I looked at the other message. The number Chance had left was his service number. I called Midtown North instead. Durkin wasnt in but they gave me his home number.

  He sounded groggy when he answered. "Gimme a second, lemme light a cigarette," he said. When he came back on the line he sounded all right. "I was watching teevee," he said, "and I went and fell asleep in front of the set. Whats on your mind, Scudder?"

  "That pimps been trying to reach me. Chance. "

  "Trying to reach you how?"

  "By phone. He left a number for me to call. His answering service. So hes probably in town, and if you want me to set him up-"

  "Were not looking for him. "

  For an awful moment I thought I must have spoken to Durkin during my blackout, that one of us had called the other and I didnt remember it. But he went on talking and I realized that hadnt happened.

  "We had him over at the station house and we sweated him," he explained. "We put out a pickup order but he wound up coming in on his own accord. He had a slick lawyer with him and he was pretty slick himself. "

  "You let him go?"

  "We didnt have one damn thing to hold him on. He had an alibi for the whole stretch from several hours before the estimated time of death to six or eight hours after. The alibi looks solid and we havent got anything to stack up against it. The clerk who checked Charles Jones into the Galaxy cant come up with a description. I mean he cant say for sure if the man he signed in was black or white. He sort of thinks he was white. Howd you like to hand that to the D. A. ?"

  "He could have had someone else rent the room. Those big hotels, they dont keep any track of who goes in and out. "

  "Youre right. He could have had someone rent the room. He also could have had someone kill her. "

  "Is that what you figure he did?"

  "I dont get paid to figure. I know we havent got a case against the son of a bitch. "

  I thought for a moment. "Why would he call me?"

  "How would I know?"

  "Does he know I steered you to him?"

  "He didnt hear it from me. "

  "Then what does he want with me?"

  "Why dont you ask him yourself?"

  It was warm in the booth. I cracked the door, let a little air in. "Maybe Ill do that. "

  "Sure. Scudder? Dont meet him in a dark alley, huh? Because if hes got some kind of a hard-on for you, you want to watch your back. "

  "Right. "

  "And if he does nail you, leave a dying message, will you? Thats what they always do on television. "

  "Ill see what I can do. "

  "Make it clever," he said. "but not too clever, you know? Keep it simple enough so I can figure it out. "

  I dropped a dime and called his service. The woman with the smokers rasp to her voice said, "Eight-oh-nine-two. May I help you?"

  I said, "My names Scudder. Chance called me and Im returning his call. "

  She said she expected to be speaking to him soon and asked for my number. I gave it to her and went upstairs and stretched out on the bed.

  A little less than an hour later the phone rang. "Its Chance," he said. "I want to thank you for returning my call. "

  "I just got the message an hour or so ago. Both of the messages. "

  "Id like to speak with you," he said. "Face to face, that is. "

  "All right. "

  "Im downstairs, Im in your lobby. I thought we could get a drink or a cup of coffee in the neighborhood. Could you come down?"

  "All right. "

  Chapter 10

  He said, "You still think I killed her, dont you?"

  "What does it matter what I think?"

  "It matters to me. "

  I borrowed Durkins line. "Nobody pays me to think. "

  We were in the back booth of a coffee shop a few doors from Eighth Avenue. My coffee was black. His was just a shade lighter than his skin tone. Id ordered a toasted English muffin, figuring that I probably ought to eat something, but I hadnt been able to bring myself to touch it.

  He said, "I didnt do it. "

  "All right. "

  "I have what you might call an alibi in depth. A whole roomful of people can account for my time that night. I wasnt anywhere near that hotel. "

  "Thats handy. "

  "Whats that supposed to mean?"

  "Whatever you want it to mean. "

  "Youre saying I could have hired it done. "

  I shrugged. I felt edgy, sitting across the table from him, but more than that I felt tired. I wasnt afraid of him.

  "Maybe I could have. But I didnt. "

  "If you say so. "

  "God damn," he said, and drank some of his coffee. "She anything more to you than you let on that night?"

  "No. "

  "Just a friend of a friend?"

  "Thats right. "

  He looked at me, and his gaze was like a too-bright light shining in my eyes. "You went to bed with her," he said. Before I could respond he said, "Sure, thats what you did. How else would she say thank you? The woman only spoke one language. I hope that wasnt the only compensation you got, Scudder. I hope she didnt pay the whole fee in whores coin. "

  "My fees are my business," I said. "Anything that happened between us is my business. "

  He nodded. "Im just getting a fix on where youre coming from, thats all. "

  "Im not coming from anyplace and Im not going anywhere. I did a piece of work and I was paid in full. The clients dead and I didnt have anything to do with that and it doesnt have anything to do with me. You say you had nothing to do with her death. Maybe
thats true and maybe it isnt. I dont know and I dont have to know and I dont honestly give a damn. Thats between you and the police. Im not the police. "

  "You used to be. "

  "But Im not anymore. Im not the police and Im not the dead girls brother and Im not some avenging angel with a flaming sword. You think it matters to me who killed Kim Dakkinen? You think I give a damn?"

  "Yes. "

  I looked at him.

  He said, "Yes, I think it matters to you. I think you care who killed her. Thats why Im here. " He smiled gently. "See," he said, "what I want is to hire you, Mr. Matthew Scudder. I want you to find out who killed her. "

  I took a while before I believed he was serious. Then I did what I could to talk him out of it. If there was any kind of trail leading to Kims killer, I told him, the police had the best chance of finding and following it. They had the authority and the manpower and the talent and the connections and the skills. I had none of the above.

  "Youre forgetting something," he said.

  "Oh?"

  "They wont be looking. Far as theyre concerned, they already know who killed her. They got no evidence so they cant do anything with it, but thats their excuse not to kill themselves trying. Theyll say, Well, we know Chance killed her but we cant prove it so lets work on something else. God knows they got plenty other things to work on. And if they did work on it, all theyd be looking for is some way to hang it onto me. They wouldnt even look to see if theres somebody else on earth with a reason for wanting her dead. "

  "Like who?"

  "Thats what you would be looking to find out. "

  "Why?"

  "For money," he said, and smiled again. "I wasnt asking you to work for free. I have a lot of money coming in, all of it cash. I can pay a good fee. "

  "Thats not what I meant. Why would you want me on the case? Why would you want the killer found, assuming I had any chance of finding him? Its not to get you off the hook because youre not on the hook. The cops havent got a case against you and theyre not likely to come up with one. Whats it to you if the case stays on the books as unsolved?"

  His gaze was calm, steady. "Maybe Im concerned about my reputation," he suggested.

  "How? It looks to me as though your reputation gets a boost. If the word on the street is that you killed her and got away with it, the next girl who wants to quit your string is going to have something else to think about. Even if you didnt have anything to do with her murder, I can see where youd be just as happy to take the credit for it. "

  He flicked his index finger a couple times against his empty coffee cup. He said, "Somebody killed a woman of mine. Nobody should be able to do that and get away with it. "

  "She wasnt yours when she got killed. "

  "Who knew that? You knew it and she knew it and I knew it. My other girls, did they know? Did the people in the bars and on the street know? Do they know now? Far as the world knows, one of my girls got killed and the killers getting away with it. "