Somebody Owes Me Money

28

At the gas station, the guy who came out to service me gave me a dirty look when Abbie hopped into the cab and I immediately drove away. She’d started to get in front, but I’d waved her to get in the back instead, and as we started up I threw the meter flag. I didn’t want to get stopped by a cop at this stage of the game.

Abbie said, “You didn’t need gas?”

“That wasn’t a Sunoco station,” I said, and looked at the gas gauge. “And I don’t need gas.”

“It’s freezing in here.”

“It’ll warm up in a couple minutes.”

“Where are we going now?”

“I have no idea,” I said. “None at all. There’s a diner I’m partial to down here a ways, let’s go in there and have a cup of coffee and think things over.”

“Fine,” she said.

So that’s what we did, and in the warmth of the diner we both began to relax a little. I ordered two Danish with our coffee, and when they arrived Abbie said, “That’s what puts the pounds on, Chet.”

“When people are chasing me with guns,” I said, “I think dieting is a little irrelevant.” I chomped into my Danish, and found it good.

“All right,” she said. “But when this is over, you go on a diet.”

“By the time this is over,” I said, “if I’m still around, I expect to be very very thin. Let’s not talk about dieting any more. Let’s talk about what we’re going to do.”

She sipped at her coffee. “I don’t know,” she said. “I can’t think anymore.”

“What if we found the killer?” I asked. “What if we did solve things, and then let the gangs know we weren’t going to tell anybody about any of the stuff we overheard, we were—”

“I didn’t overhear anything,” she said.

“Do you want to go back to that apartment and tell them so?”

“No,” she said.

“The only reason we managed to stay alive as long as we did,” I said, “was pure dumb luck. Both gangs were too confused, they wanted to know what was going on before they did anything drastic. But it was in the cards all along that we were going to be nuisances they’d feel happier without.”

“What I don’t understand,” she said, “is why you let that second bunch in the apartment. Napoli and his people. With Droble and all the others already there.”

“I didn’t know exactly what would happen if I let them in,” I said, “but I did know what would happen if I didn’t let them in. They’d break their way through the door, they’d probably come in shooting. Droble’s people would have been shooting at the people forcing their way in, and we would have had an immediate war on our hands, with us in the middle. The other way, there was a chance the confusion could be maintained for a while. Besides, I didn’t see anything else I could do.”

“All right,” she said. “What about for now? Any ideas at all?”

“One,” I said. “And I’m not sure how much I like it.”

“What is it?”

“Detective Golderman.”

She looked at me, uncomprehending.

I said, “I think I can trust him. He’s had me alone a couple of times and he hasn’t tried any mayhem on me. And I know he’s working on the case. Maybe if we talk to him, tell him every- thing we know, he can put it together with what the police have and come up with something. And in the meantime he can hide us out somewhere. You and I are amateurs, Abbie, and it’s about time we turned our business over to a professional.”

I didn’t know if I’d talked her into it, but in the process of talking to her I’d convinced me. It had been an idea in the back of my head, and I hadn’t been sure whether it was a good one or not, but now that I’d heard it spoken out loud I thought it was a great idea, so I said, “Unless you have some very strong objection, I’m going to phone him right now and see if I can arrange a meeting in some neutral territory. Like this booth, for instance.”

“I’m not sure,” she said. Her brow was furrowed. “I hate to trust anybody,” she said.

“So do I. But we’ve come to the point where we’ve got to trust somebody, and like I say, Golderman has already had a couple of chances at me and hasn’t taken them. I think we can be sure he isn’t the guy who killed Tommy or took that shot at me, and if he isn’t we should be able to trust him.”

“I suppose you’re right,” she said. “All right, go ahead and try it. But listen very carefully to how he sounds on the phone.”

“Don’t worry,” I told her. “In the last week I’ve grown as paranoid as you are.”

“Good,” she said. “You might last a few years that way.”

“Mm,” I said. I took another mouthful of Danish, slurped some coffee, and left the table. The phones were at the rear, and I went back there, dug out a dime, stepped into the booth and called Information, from whom I got the number for the police precinct covering West 46th Street. Then I called that number, asked for the Detective Squad, and when I got them I asked for Detective Golderman.

“Not here today.”

“Not at all? Not all day?”

“Won’t be in till tomorrow morning. Can I do anything for you?”

“No, I need Detective Golderman. Do you have any idea where I could get in touch with him?”

“Hold on.”

I held on. The phone booth grew stuffy, and I opened the door a little, and the light went out. I shut the door enough for the light to come on, and the booth got stuffy again. I had my choice of light or air, it seemed, and I opted for air, opening the door all the way.

Then he came back and I shut the door again, opting for privacy. He said, “He’s at home. I can give you the number.”

“Good. Thanks.”

“Do you have a pencil?”

“No, I’ll have to remember it. I’m in a phone booth.”

“Okay. He lives out on Long Island, in Westbury. It’s area code 516.”

“Yeah, I know that.”

“Right. The number is ED3-3899.”

“ED3-3899.” I looked at the phone dial, and E and D were both 3, so the number was 333-3899. “I’ve got it,” I said. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

So I called the Westbury number. The operator wanted twenty cents and I had to give her a quarter. Then the phone rang six times before it was answered, by a woman. I asked for Detective Golderman, and she said, “He’s taking a nap right now. Is it important?”

I said, “I could call when he wakes up, I suppose. When would be a good time?”

“I’ll be waking him at six,” she said.

“That’s fine,” I said. “I’ll call a little after six.”

“Who shall I say called?”

“I’m sorry,” I said, “but I’d rather tell him myself.” And I broke the connection, not liking to be rude but also not wanting to give my name ahead of time. Just in case, just in case.

I went back to the table and told Abbie my adventures on the phone, and she said, “So what are we going to do now? Sit here till six o’clock?”

“Not a bit of it. We’ll drive out to Westbury and go straight to his house.”

“You got his address?”

“I got his phone number.”

“What good does that do you?”

“How many Goldermans do you suppose are going to be in the phone book,” I asked her, “with the same telephone number?”

“Oh,” she said. “Sorry, I wasn’t thinking.”

“You’re not drinking either. Let’s finish up and get going.”

She looked out the window. “Out in that cold again. Brrrr.”

I couldn’t have agreed more.