A City Called July

TWENTY-ONE

Pia Morley’s apartment was in a high-rise at the north end of James Street. In Grantham, a high-rise is anything over five storeys. This had eight and I pushed the button that carried me up to the penthouse. If the word penthouse once meant something special, I couldn’t read it in the layout of Pia’s place. It looked like every other apartment I’ve ever seen in Grantham: the usual low ceilings and galley kitchen. I suspected that there wasn’t much room to entertain in the bathroom. There were compensations however: the balcony space looked generous and I counted lots of doors leading somewhere. Even if half of them were closets, it was a bargain. As soon as I saw the furniture in the living-room, I knew it was going to be tough going back to either one of my rented rooms.

Pia let me in when I rang from below and got the door when the elevator deposited me. She was wearing a velvet housecoat that looked tied with a belt but probably wasn’t. She motioned me to the chair that had flowers embroidered on a blue background. It was like sitting on a work of art. She settled into a generous couch with a large floral pattern. Behind her on the wall were framed pictures of classical building façades. There were three on each side of the fake fireplace, one above the other. The gilt mirror with an eagle on top gave the final blow. This was a very interior-decorated room. And when I thought about it, I couldn’t imagine Pia giving the required time to swatches of fabric and patches of paint. I wondered whether she could even give me the name of the chocolate-bar colour of the walls. I’d seen brown walls in a garage once, but never in a fancy apartment.

No sooner had she sat down than she was up again getting me a rye and water, weak on the rye and heavy on the water. She poured a mineral water for herself and sipped a Grand Marnier on the side. She sat down again and lit a cigarette with the piece of evidence Alex said he had removed from the scene of the crime. I didn’t know where to start, but I was getting used to that. I never seemed to have a list of questions percolating in my head. I knew that a couple of hot tap-water questions would hit me as the interview got going. I hoped.

“It’s good of you to see me, Mrs. Morley. I’ll try not to overstay my welcome.”

“Let’s cut the crap right at the start. Call me Pia, and you’re Benny, right? I heard that they call you Benny.”

“People of my generation. People like Pete Staziak, people like Alex.”

“Okay. I know you knew about that. You want to know about me getting molested by my camp counsellor when I was nine? Or should we keep to the present? You want to know about when I was a drug addict for two years? If you’ve got the time, I got the time.”

“I’d like to know why you went to see Nathan Geller last Friday night.”

“Is your drink strong enough? There’s hardly any rye in there.” It was a straight evasion, but she did it with polish. “I’m glad you’re not the type who waits for the yard-arm to come over the poop deck. I’m a true democrat about drink: I’ll drink anything, anytime.” I gave her an appreciative grin made specially for the occasion and was about to try again when she tried another line: “I thought you were being paid to uncover Larry Geller’s whereabouts. Are you taking on the whole family now?”

“You don’t think Nathan’s death and Larry’s taking off are related?”

“It only happens that way in books. In real life the strangest coincidences are just coincidences. It makes for a tidy world when everything is related to everything else. That’s why people are so frightened of strangers; there’s no chance of coincidence with them.” I didn’t follow what she was saying, but I was of half a mind to ask her to explain, when it hit me it was just talk to keep me from business.

“I don’t know about that. But, maybe you can help me to get unconfused about your name. Who was Morley and where does Pia come from?”

“Pia? It’s Italian. My family’s Italian. At least my father was. Morley comes from Barry Morley, my first husband. 1 married him when I left Alex. Like I told you, I spent the next two years in orbit. I was stoned all the time and when I finally came down I landed on my derrière and a decree nisi. Unless I think about it, I can’t even remember what he looked like. I was not all that discriminating in those days.” She lit a second cigarette with the restored monogrammed lighter and blew smoke at the imitation fireplace. I joined her. “Then, I met Glenn. He helped me straighten up my act. I’ll always love him for that. But I couldn’t live with him. Sometimes I think I shouldn’t live with anybody.” She was watching the smoke drift between us. “I was straight with Glenn. I told him up-front, ‘I’m a mouthy, aggressive, angry woman. Don’t think you’ll change me, because you can’t.’ He married me anyway and found out I was right. Sid’s the only man I’ve ever known with balls. He’s like an old ad in the magazines for piston rings or something: ‘Tough; but oh so gentle.’ That’s Sid. When I moved in with him, I never thought it would last. I gave it three weeks. I said to myself, ‘Live it and see what happens.’ I’m still here and I can’t wait till he gets home.”

“And what about his brother? You got along with Nathan?”

“Sure. I like his stuff. He was totally different from Sid. Like they came from different planets. You have a brother or sister?”

“I’ve got a brother on Mars.”

“I didn’t have a brother or sister. We were a very talked-about Italian family when I was young.”

“You say you admired Nathan’s work?”

“God yes. Didn’t you? Or did you ever see it? He was so wonderfully clear-headed.”

“He tried to pass himself off as a little simple in a social way. Claimed not to notice things. Does that ring true?”

“Nathan noticed what he wanted to notice. You’ve seen his stuff. You can’t do that sort of thing without being an observer all your life. Gosh, I hate to think about Nathan. I mean it’s so bloody depressing. When you think of all the bums without any talent. Without even any talent for living. You know what I mean?” I nodded and she was off again. I’d had a rough beginning with Pia Morley, but now I was on to her. Her natural mode was talking. This time it was about Nathan getting reviewed in American papers before his work was written up in the Canadian papers. Then she was on about prophets in their own country which I didn’t follow. I tried to lead her gently back to my investigation.

“You talked with him on Friday. He called you?”

“What? Oh, yes. Nathan called me. He sounded worried and he usually came to me with his worries. He and a dozen others. I tried to tell him I needed a break, right? That I needed some space, but he sounded so pathetic, and I’m the world’s greatest sucker. So I agreed to drop in at the studio as soon as I could get free. Nathan was practically the only person I ever smoked dope with any more. We used to do that a lot, now we do it for old times and giggle. Would you like to share a joint, Mr. C?” She opened up a box on the table-top and in with the cigarettes were half a dozen expertly rolled joints of marijuana. I shook my head and she closed the lid, like it was jellybeans she’d offered me. I tried to pick up my end of the interview.

“Around when was that?”

“Was what? Oh, when I got free. Well, I was out at the gun club with you until after dark. It must have been around ten or ten thirty when I got back here. Sid was wondering where I’d been and I had to tell him something credible. Then we played gin rummy for an hour. Sid had to go out around 11:30. I had a soak in the tub then went out for cigarettes. When I got to Nathan’s studio it was somewhere between midnight and one. He looked so pitiful lying there, all doubled up. I don’t want to think about it. I won’t sleep.”

“The coroner says that he died between midnight and two in the morning. If you saw him dead in the hour between midnight and one, that narrows our time for when the murder was committed.”

“That’s great. I mean good for you. But what about me? I found him during the critical time. Doesn’t that make me numero uno? Top suspect?”

“You could have done it, then asked Alex to see what you left behind. The cops like a neat package like that.”

“Shit. All that stuff went through my head when I was standing there in his studio. If I’d called the cops, they would have crucified me.”

“Did you touch the body?”

“I had to see if he was still alive. He was still warm, but I knew he was dead. I mean you don’t recover when you get stabbed with a knife like that. It must have been a yard long.”

“What!”

“Well, I’m exaggerating a little. But it was more than a foot.”

“Are you saying that the knife was lying there?”

“Sure, I’m not a total incompetent at telling a story.”

“But, what I mean is, the knife wasn’t in the studio when I got there. There was no murder weapon found.”

“But it was right there on the floor.”

“Until somebody picked it up and carried it away.”

“I’ve got to have another drink. You want one?” Pia got up and poured a generous belt of Scotch into a tumbler and gulped it down standing there. She didn’t move in the direction of getting me another drink. Maybe she could sense what kind of drinker I was. Holding on to the glass with both hands, she came back to the couch. She didn’t say anything for a long time. Then: “Benny, are you saying that the murderer came back for the knife?”

“Not necessarily, Pia. The murderer could have still been in the studio when you came in.”

“Oh, my God! He was there?”

“How long were you in the studio altogether?”

“I came in, closed the door, and called Nathan. He didn’t answer so I went up to his apartment on the second floor. I didn’t like spending time with the statues at night any more than it took to walk by them. At night they were scary. Upstairs I found … You know what I found.”

“How did you happen to leave your lighter? Did you have a cigarette?”

“I’m vague on the details after I found the body. I remember thinking … No, it wasn’t even thinking. It’s what you do instead of thinking when panic sets in. I remember the telephone. Wondering should I use it. I don’t think I had a cigarette. I wasn’t there long enough. I think I just arrived, looked at the body, then got confused and left. I came right home and got into the tub. That’s the only safe place in the world.”

“Then how did you lose your lighter?”

“It must have fallen out of my bag when I put it down to examine Nathan. I don’t know. I only remember that in the morning I didn’t have it, and I knew where I didn’t want to have it found.”

“You didn’t have a cigarette before going to bed? What I mean is why didn’t you notice that the lighter was missing after you got back here?”

“I guess I used the table lighter. When I’ve got both I use either one. I don’t know. And there is such a thing as matches. All I know is that I didn’t really start to worry until morning. And that’s when I called Alex.”

“Did Alex answer the phone himself?”

“Yes. He tried to calm me down. I was next door to going out of my mind.”

“Did he call you by the name he used to call you in the old days?”

“You mean did he call me Toni? Sure. He always calls me Toni. It’s from Antonioni, my family name.” She looked at me strangely, like I’d just correctly identified the name on the label of her brassiere. “What has this got to do with my lighter?”

“Nothing. Everything. I don’t know yet. Okay, I’ll return to that. You’re sure you have no recollection of putting it down?”

“No.” Pia was sitting holding on to herself. Her right hand was holding on tightly to her left elbow and the left hand was clutching her right upper arm. This resulted in a pucker of breast showing at the V-neck of her housecoat. It was a nice effect. She could tell I liked it.

“Think, now. You didn’t leave the lighter on, say, the coffee-table in Nathan’s apartment?”

“I wasn’t near the coffee … Oh, Benny, I can’t think any more. I can’t remember what I remember. I don’t think I put it down anywhere. But that’s the word of an idiot.”

“Okay. Don’t strain yourself. Is it possible that you didn’t lose the lighter at the studio? Could you have left it someplace else earlier? Don’t answer now. Think about it.”

“What are you going to do now, Benny?”

“I wish I knew. I feel like I’m holding on to a bundle of rope that’s all tangled up. So far I’ve found at least six ends. I don’t know if I’ll ever get it straightened out.”

“Benny, I want to say how …”

“Forget it.” Pia got up from the couch, and I put down my nearly untouched drink. “Look, Pia, I think I know that you live a fairly complicated life, and that there are parts of it that you don’t want anybody going into. Things you don’t want Sid to find out about. I understand about that. I’m not here to make things difficult for you either domestically or in business. But to find out about Larry’s disappearance and Nathan’s murder, I have to ask tough questions.”

“I think I understand. I’ll try to help, if I can.”

“Well, at least that makes two of us.” We moved towards the door of the penthouse. In a minute I’d be in the elevator on my way back to the street. I wanted to make these last few questions count. “Pia, am I right in thinking that Sid knows nothing about Tony Pritchett’s part in the Niagara-on-the-Lake highway plan?”

“Right now he doesn’t. I don’t think we intended to keep him in the dark indefinitely.”

“Why wasn’t he involved in that part of the planning?”

“Because he’s so up-front, so straightforward. He doesn’t realize that we needed Tony to get the proposal underwritten. Once the tenders are chosen and we have the go-ahead, then it doesn’t matter any more. But Sid wouldn’t have gone along if he suspected that Tony Pritchett and his connections were involved. To Sid, Tony’s a crook, a mobster, a character in a Mafia movie. He doesn’t understand that in his business investments, Pritchett’s as honest as any other investor. He doesn’t need to use pressure tactics or strong-arm methods.”

“That’s why I got an engraved invitation to that meeting at the gun club.” Pia lowered her eyes. I got angry with myself. Here I was trying to score debating points instead of digging out as much information as possible. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to take cheap shots,” I said, and she smiled.

“I guess some of Tony’s boys are slow learners. But Glenn tried to make it up to you. Against my advice, remember.”

“Was Larry involved in this business with Pritchett?”

“No. As far as I know he doesn’t even know Tony. And he and Glenn didn’t get along. They were chalk and cheese. No, I think that’s a dead end.”

“Okay. I think I’ve just run dry. If I think of anything else …”

“Just call me.”

For a fairly short visit, I thought as I went down in the elevator, I’d learned quite a lot. Furthermore, I was already looking forward to my next meeting with Pia Morley.