Smoked Out (Digger)

by Warren Murphy

  "You can trust me, Mr. Borose."

  "I know I can, Alphonse. That’s a noble name, Alphonse. You should walk proud. Walka proud."

  On his way into Beverly Hills, Digger stopped to buy a newspaper. There was a brief story on the funeral of Mrs. Welles. He cursed under his breath when he read that Mrs. Rochelle Lindsley, the dead woman’s mother, had left immediately for her home in Connecticut. He had wanted to talk to her, but now it would have to wait.

  When he got to Wilshire Boulevard, Digger was surprised to find that the Occidental Gift Shop, three blocks from Rodeo Drive, was open. The store’s small display window was filled with California’s high-class rendition of New York schlock. In New York, junk shops sold cheap, sprayed-gold reproductions of the Empire State building made of genuine plaster. In California, they sold three-inch-high models of California cliff-houses made of genuine wood, complete with rope and wood bridges and shingled roofs. The display window also featured shells. Digger liked shells, often having thought that his ex-wife belonged in one. She had been a woman with no discernible backbone, developing one only when she got him into divorce court.

  Digger pressed the button that turned on his tape recorder. He could feel the faint vibrations against his back. A bell over the door rang as Digger walked inside. A young woman with dark brown hair sat at a small desk in the rear of the store. She seemed intent on a cluster of pill bottles spread out on the desk in front of her. Digger recognized her. She had been at the funeral. Lorelei Church. Miss Surf’s-Up of 1981, 2 and 3. The one who thanked him.

  Without looking up, the woman called, "Be with you in a minute."

  Digger walked to her desk in the back. The woman still didn’t look up. He took the occasion to look at the number on her telephone and memorize it.

  "I’m surprised you’re in today, Miss Church."

  "Aaaaah, I can’t figure out what I took this morning. I wasn’t thinking so well." There were six bottles in front of her. "I was a little out of it. I took some vitamins, but I don’t know which ones, so I don’t know what I have to take now."

  "Take the kelp," Digger said.

  "If I took it this morning, I don’t need it now."

  "Take everything but the A and the D. Nothing else will hurt you." The girl still had not looked up.

  "I’m not sure. I don’t like taking stuff I already took. Won’t too much kelp make you green?"

  "There has never been a case of it," Digger said. "In the last five years, according to the Harvard Medical News, there has not been one case of kelp o.d. in the United States. Oh, there was one in Venezuela, but it was a shipwrecked Etruscan sailor. He lived on seaweed and kelp for eight weeks."

  She finally looked up. "What happened to him?" There was not a glimmer of human sentience in her large, green eyes.

  "Sad story," Digger said. "He was finally rescued by a fishing boat, but when they helped him ashore, he was attacked and eaten by sea gulls. Left nothing but bones. Green bones."

  "That’s awful," she said.

  "Any man’s death diminishes us all," he said.

  "You a doctor?"

  "No."

  "A friend of Dr. Welles? You talk like a doctor."

  "No, not really. It’s just that I’ve always been interested in kelp. That’s because of my name."

  "What’s your name?"

  "Tim Kelp. Take one of each except the A and the D. That’ll keep you going until tomorrow. Should I run out and get some papaya juice for you to rinse them down with?"

  "No, it’s okay. I can take pills dry. I’m one of those lucky ones who can swallow pills. Even when I was a kid, I could swallow pills right down. Doctors loved me. I even liked needles. What’s the big deal about needles? They never hurt me." She hesitated. "How did you know my name? Are you a customer? Maybe I should be getting up to show you something? We’ve got a special on shells."

  "First things first," Digger said. He decided the girl was paralyzed by the need to perform some specific act so he opened the pill bottles and took out a Vitamin C tablet, an E capsule, a garlic capsule and a kelp tablet.

  "Here. Gobble these up. Yum, yum."

  Strengthened by the forceful second opinion, Lorelei Church swallowed the pills all at once, popping them into her mouth from the palm of her hand like so many salted peanuts. As her head went back, her marvelous bosom rose.

  "I love it when you swallow like that," Digger said.

  She put the caps back on the bottles and put them in her desk drawer.

  "All right. Down to business. What can I do for you, Mr. Kelp? Usually I’m terrible on names, but I don’t think I’ll ever forget yours."

  "Call me Tim and I’ll call you Lorelei. People who’ve been through what we have have to be friends. I was saying that I was surprised you were open today."

  "Nobody told me to close, so I stayed open. I’ll stay open until they tell me to close. Then I’ll close."

  "That’s logical. I’m doing a job for the staff magazine at the Hospital in the Hills. We’re doing a special edition on Mrs. Welles and we were just talking to all the people whose lives she enriched."

  "She paid me three-ten an hour. That’s enriched?"

  "Well, we’re not really going to go into that," Digger said. "Personal stuff, mostly. Nice lady. Businesswoman. Public spirit. You know the thing. All the people at the hospital got together to do this. It’s going to be a surprise for Dr. Welles. Sort of a tribute to their life together."

  "You’re from the East, aren’t you?"

  "Yes," Digger said. "Jersey City, N.J."

  "That’s in New Jersey?"

  "Yes. N.J. is an abbreviation of New Jersey."

  "I’ve never been to Jersey City, N.J."

  "Some of the very finest people haven’t, but we’re working to change all that. How did you know I was from the East?"

  "You talk funny. Fast, kind of. Like you know what you’re going to say all the time. All the words and everything."

  "That’s because of my training."

  "A hospital taught you to talk fast?" she said.

  "No, actually, I don’t work for the hospital. I’m a representative in service from the Standstill Public Relations Agency, founded 1927, Steven and Stanley Standstill. ‘If you’ve got a problem, come to a Standstill.’ We’re doing this memorial for Mrs. Welles. Awful accident."

  "What accident? Was anybody hurt?" Lorelei asked.

  "Mrs. Welles’s accident. She died, remember?"

  "Oh, yeah. I thought you meant a new accident. Hmmmm, that was awful. She was a nice lady. I don’t trust German cars, do you?"

  "More than I trust Germans. What kind of a woman was Mrs. Welles to work for?"

  "She was real nice."

  "How did she deal with customers?"

  "She was nice to them. Real nice. You have to be if you’re going to be in business."

  "That’s true. Do you remember any anecdotes or incidents that might be good in a memorial news story from the Standstill Agency’s viewpoint?"

  "No."

  "How long had you worked with Mrs. Welles? You sure you don’t mind if I call you Lorelei?"

  "Go ahead."

  "Well, Lorelei?"

  "Well what?"

  "How long had you worked with Mrs. Welles?"

  "Since she opened the store. About two years."

  "How was business? Is today any example?"

  "Okay. Sometimes it was busy. Most days it wasn’t much. Sometimes I think Mrs. Welles wondered why she opened the store. She would say to me, ‘Lorelei,’ she’d say, ‘sometimes I wonder why I opened this store.’ But I guess it was like fun for her, like something to do."

  "Bored doctor’s wife, like that?" Digger suggested.

  "Maybe."

  "Did Mrs. Welles work hard at the business or was it a hobby? For instance, she was on her way here at 6:00 A.M. Wasn’t that early to get here?"

  "Yeah. I used to open the store most days. We open at nine-thirty and I’d always be here by nine. I�
�m very reliable. Most people think a girl with a big chest isn’t reliable, but I’m very reliable. But the last week, she was coming in early every day."

  "Did you ask her why? Did she say why she was coming in early?"

  "She just said that she had an urge to come in early. The doctor was away and all, so maybe she just wanted to get out of the house. Did you talk to him? Is he going to keep the store open?"

  "I haven’t talked to him yet. This is all going to be a surprise for him. But I will talk to him later and I’ll put in a good word, Lorelei. You’d be surprised, girls with big chests who are reliable are hard to find. Does he know you’ve got a big chest?"

  "He knows. Oh, he knows."

  "You sound like you don’t like Dr. Welles too much. Is he fresh?"

  "No, but he looks. He comes in the store once in a while, or he used to, and he’d always look at me, you know how, I was always afraid of that because I was afraid he would try to get over on me and when he did I was going to have to quit, because I don’t give it up for commerce."

  "A wise decision. Commerce will prostitute us all if we let it. Why did Dr. Welles come in the store? Just to take his wife to lunch? Like that?"

  "No. She always ate lunch in the store. I used to go out and bring her back a sandwich. Tuna on toast. She always ate the same thing. I don’t know why he came in. He always came in around lunchtime, just when I was going out."

  "How long did he stay?"

  "He was usually gone when I got back. But sometimes he was still here. Once I heard them arguing."

  "About what?"

  "I don’t know. I didn’t listen. It was about money. This place doesn’t make a profit. He must have been upset about that."

  "Rich doctor. Mercedes-Benz. House in the hills. Why worry about a couple of dollars from your wife’s hobby?" Digger asked.

  "I don’t know. Once he really upset Mrs. Welles. I waited until he left before I went into the back office to give her her sandwich because I didn’t to want walk in while they were arguing. She was all pale and popping a pill. She didn’t even touch her sandwich. When I left, I threw it in the trash basket at the corner. If I threw it away here, I’d probably get mice and bugs. I hate bugs. I don’t mind needles or pills, but I hate bugs."

  "What kind of pill? Did she take pills a lot?"

  "I don’t know. I never saw her take pills but that once, but she had pills in her desk. Sometimes I’d find her with her head on the desk, like she was asleep. He yelled at her a lot, I think. I don’t want to marry a doctor."

  "I’m glad that doesn’t include me," Digger said.

  "You want to marry me?"

  "Maybe later after I’m done with this job. This is really important to my career. Sooner or later, everything comes to a Standstill. I want to be sure to get this right. Do you think her pills are still in her desk?"

  "Let me see."

  Lorelei walked away. She was tall and leggy and her rear, ungirdled buttocks coexisting warmly in the same space, was as impressive as her front. Digger followed her into Mrs. Welles’s office to look around. It was a small room, eight-by-ten, with a desk, filing cabinet and adding machine, telephone and not much else. He looked at the telephone number, but it was the same number as the phone on the outside desk.

  Lorelei rooted around in the center desk drawer as Digger watched. There were a few envelopes, pens and pencils. A box of staples. A bookkeeper’s ledger.

  "That’s funny," Lorelei said.

  "No pills?"

  "No pills."

  "Try the other drawers," he said.

  The pills were not in the desk.

  "Maybe she carried these pills in her purse?" Digger said.

  Lorelei shook her head. He watched her chest jiggle. He loved the way she shook her head.

  "No," she said. "She had them in the desk because sometimes I saw them when I needed a paper clip or something."

  "It’s not important," Digger said. "Thank you. Did you ever notice what kind of pills they were?"

  "No. They were white, I remember."

  "That narrows it down quite a bit," Digger said. "Are you going to lunch?"

  "I don’t think so. I have to keep the store open. When I used to go, Mrs. Welles was here. I think I better stay. If I close and the doctor comes in, maybe he’ll think about firing me. Jobs are hard to find."

  "You’ve been a real help, Lorelei. I know this is going to be the best article anybody ever wrote. I’m going to use every good eastern word I know. This is my big chance with Standstill and I owe it all to you."

  She smiled at him. Her teeth were perfect white pearls against the light, unlined, unwrinkled tan of her face. The girl had never had a worry in her life.

  He walked toward the door. She said, "Just because you’re not a doctor doesn’t mean I won’t have anything to do with you. You don’t have to be a doctor."

  "That makes me feel real good," Digger said.

  Outside, in his car, he wondered if the girl could really be that dumb. Could anything drawing breath be that dumb? Or was she a lot smarter than he thought she was?

  He wished Koko were there. She would know.

  Chapter Five

  There were two messages waiting at the Sportsland Lodge. Call Walter Brackler and call Alphonse Rizzioli.

  Digger called Rizzioli first.

  "Alphonse, this is Mr. Borose."

  "Yes, sir. I checked it. I went over that car with a fine comb. I took everything apart. I really did."

  "You’re missing the point, Alphonse. I knew that you would work very hard for the boys. You don’t have to tell me that you did that. I knew you would. I just need the results of your work." Digger wished he had cotton that he could stuff into his cheeks.

  "Nothing. Everything worked. Sure, things were banged up, but no broken hoses or linkages. No cables cut. I checked the brakes from the drums to the fluid lines. There wasn’t anything. I even checked—"

  "Alphonse, Alphonse, what you’re saying is that the car had nothing wrong with it mechanically?"

  "That’s right, Mr. Borose."

  "That woman didn’t go off the cliff because something went wrong with her car?"

  "That’s right, Mr. Borose. Nothing wrong with that car."

  "You’d stake your reputation on that?"

  "Yes, sir. I’d stake my…yeah, my reputation. I wish I had a new car to work on. Not so banged up, I mean. I could look at things better then, but there’s nothing wrong with this car. I know it. I can tell. I can almost smell when something’s wrong with a car."

  "All right, Alphonse. You’ve done a good job. We won’t forget it. I’ll send your money around tomorrow."

  "Thanks, Mr. Borose."

  "And Alphonse, it would be better if you didn’t call me again. If we need you, we know where to reach you. You understand how it is," Digger said. He had no idea what he was talking about.

  "Sure. Sure. Thanks," said Rizzioli.

  Brackler had left his New York office number.

  "Walter Brackler, please. This is Julian Burroughs."

  "Just a moment, sir. I’ll see if he’s in."

  "I know he’s in. Just tell him I’m on the phone."

  "Just a moment, please."

  "Burroughs?"

  "Yes, Kwash."

  "What the hell are you doing to the L.A. office? All I heard was bitching from Tom Langfill."

  "Just doing my job. Is that what you called to complain about?"

  "The L.A. office doesn’t need you messing up their routine. They do pretty good work without you."

  "Do you want me on this Welles case or don’t you?"

  "I don’t. Mr. Stevens does."

  "Good. Then why don’t you call the L.A. office and that Landfill character and tell him if they really want to get rid of me, they should just cooperate and I’ll be gone quickly."

  "Just don’t go throwing your weight around," Brackler said.

  "What weight? Would I do that?"

  "Lightweight. Yes,
you would. That would be the first thing you did."

  "Look, Kwash. I don’t know anybody out here. If I did, I’d make my own contacts. I don’t have that kind of time. You want me to buy a house here? I’ll stay forever. The climate’s nice. If I’m going to get anything done, I need help from the L.A. office. I’m not asking for much, but any much is too much for that lazy slug you’ve got running it. He can’t even follow instructions. I told him if he had any questions to call Mr. Stevens. Instead, he called you, which, as everybody knows, is a total waste of time."

  "I told him to cooperate. Try not to get everybody upset," Brackler said.

  "All I want to do is finish here and go home."

  "How are you doing?"

  "I’m keeping the expenses down so far. That’s the good news."

  "Big deal."

  "Goodbye, Kwash." Digger depressed the receiver button, then called the desk.

  "Front desk."

  "If I get any calls from New York from a Walter Brackler, I’m not in."

  "For the evening, sir?"

  "Forever and a day," Digger said.

  He hung up, then called his apartment in Las Vegas. Koko did not answer. He let the phone ring fourteen times before he hung up.

  "Damn it."

  He sat on the sofa and smoked a cigarette. Where was Koko, for Christ’s sake? Probably working. She was probably back at the blackjack table in the Araby. He would try her later. He had no reason to think she was anywhere else. These were her normal work hours and she would be working. Where else would she be? And besides, he wasn’t her keeper. She was free, saffron and twenty-one. She could do whatever she wanted. She didn’t have to report to him. It wasn’t as if they were married. She would be working her shift as a blackjack dealer.

  Sure.

  Shit.

  He called the number of the Occidental Gift Shop. Lorelei Church answered.

  "Occidental Gift Shop."

  "This is Tim Kelp. Remember me?"

  "Sure. The public relations man. You were here before," she said, as if imparting a confidence.