Buyer beware

14

I'd left word at the desk for a wake-up call at eight in the morning. When the phone rang it wasn't eight o'clock; it was three A.M. But it definitely woke me.

"Somebody's hurt me!…"

At first I didn't recognize the hysterical female voice.

"They beat me!…"

It was Belle Dee. "Belle, where are you?"

"Home… just got here… They told me not to call the police. Said they'd kill me if I did. They kept asking about Vic… I couldn't tell them any more than I told you!"

"I'll call a doctor."

"No! Please! A doctor might tell the police." The voice was still high, agonized, but she was gaining control.

I was responsible. I'd led somebody to her. "How badly hurt are you?"

"Don't know."

"I'll be there."

"Please, Alto!…"

"It's Alo," I said and hung up.

I was sitting on the edge of the bed, trembling, telling myself it was because the room was too cool. But I was scared. I reached for my pants.

The drive to Belle Dee's apartment was a skip in time, one of those chores performed automatically and precisely with the best part of the subconscious mind while the conscious boiled.

They'd done a job on her. She took a long time to answer my knock and reassurances, and when she inched open the door, she flinched in fright at the crack of light from the hall.

In the dimness of Belle Dee's apartment I could see that her upper lip was grotesquely swollen, and there was a slender track of blood down her neck, behind her right ear. She clung to me for a moment when I entered; then she slumped to the floor and sat against the wall, pressing the back of her head against the plaster, her eyes closed.

I switched on the softest light I could find, but she didn't like it. I didn't either. When I looked closely at the blood on her neck and the delicate splatter marks on her face, my stomach threatened and the room suddenly became an elevator going down.

"You all right?" she asked.

"I think so. Got any bandages?"

"Bathroom."

I found my way into the tile bathroom and opened the mirrored medicine chest. There was a bandage box, empty. But I found a roll of adhesive tape, some cotton, and on the vanity shelf beneath the washbasin an aerosol can of spray antiseptic.

Belle Dee was watching me, frantic-eyed, when I returned. "That stuff burns!"

"We'll use soap and water as much as possible," I said, helping her to her feet, then into a chair. Fighting off my dizziness, I went back to the bathroom and got some damp washrags and soap. Then I came back and did the best I could for her.

By the time I was finished, Belle Dee was leaning back in the chair, peering out at me from beneath a strip of tape over her right eyebrow. The eye was beginning to blacken. I got her some brandy, but it stung the cuts in her mouth, so she settled for ice water. I drank the brandy.

"How many were there?" I asked.

"Two. They were waiting for me when I came home. I shut the door, turned around and there they were."

"Do you know who they were?"

Belle Dee shook her head no. Her left hand was unconsciously clutching her stomach. She said they had kicked her. I was ashamed for being more frightened than angry.

"What did they say? What kind of questions did they ask you about Talbert?"

"They asked me how well I'd known him, if I had any idea who'd killed him, why Vic had left town. I told them I didn't know the answers. That got them mad, made them mean. They warned me not to answer any questions about Vic, from anyone, or they'd be back."

I poured another glass of brandy. "Could you identify them?"

"No, they wore something over their faces, like gauze."

"Nylon stockings?"

"Maybe. All I can tell you is, one of them had terrible breath." For an instant some inner pain etched twenty more years on her face. "Jesus!…"

"Sure you don't want a doctor?"

"I'd rather be hurt than dead."

There was my kind of logic. "Can you think of anybody who knew both you and Vic?" I asked,

"Nobody who'd do this. Just some of the people at the club, the other waitresses. They know him from when he'd come in to see me."

"Do you think Congram might be involved?"

"I only heard the name a few times, never met him. What's that?"

"Antacid tablet, for my stomach. Is there anybody who knew both Talbert and Congram?"

Her pain-filled eyes brightened. "Yeah, Vic once mentioned that Smit was involved with this Congram. That's been a while ago."

My heart picked up a beat. "Smit?"

"He's just a guy who comes into the club now and then-not so often anymore. Maybe once a week. A run-down looking guy who pops some kind of pills with his beer."

"How about a first name?"

Belle Dee licked her swollen lip and shook her head. "Smit's all I ever heard him called. One of the other waitresses used to go out with him, though. She might know his full name."

"And his address?"

"She might know. Unless he moved."

I finished the brandy, washing down the taste of the antacid tablet and gritting my teeth at the combination. "Can you find out for me tomorrow?"

She looked at me with her hurt doll's eyes and nodded. "I'll try."

I ran my fingertips over my stubbled chin and sighed. I was tired, and there was a knot of dread in my stomach. Joan Clark and Talbert had been mixed up with Congram, who knew Smit, who might lead me to trouble. Apparently Joan and Talbert had lived in the Oakner apartment before leaving unexpectedly for Florida. That must have been the apartment Melissa had described. I smiled as I remembered something else Melissa had said.

"Ever hear of Robert Manners?" I asked Belle Dee.

"No, why?"

"It probably isn't important. What about Gratuity Insurance?"

"Not that I can remember."

" I walked into the kitchen and returned with one of the wooden chairs that had been at the table. "Wedge this under your doorknob when I leave," I told Belle Dee. "Then sometime tomorrow buy a chain lock."

She raised her head as if at a sudden sound. "You don't think they'll be back, do you?"

"No, I don't. They did their job. But you should have a chain lock anyway."

And Belle Dee's assailants had done their job smoothly, probably slipping the apartment door lock with a credit card, then working swiftly and ruthlessly. There was no sign of a struggle.

I glanced at my watch and stood wearily before Belle Dee, waiting for her to invite me to spend the night. She didn't. So I cautioned her again to seal her self in, and left.

Back at my motel I wedged a chair under my own doorknob and had little success at sleeping. I had that uncomfortable feeling of being drawn into something I couldn't handle, and even thinking about the fifty-thousand dollars didn't help.

I picked up the receiver on the first ring when Belle Dee called, a little after ten the same morning.

She told me where Smit lived and described him as a skinny, pinch-faced man in his thirties. She also warned me that Smit was involved in some kind of drug operation and had been arrested several times but never convicted.

That last part took away the possibility of breakfast. People involved in drug operations see life as being cheap.