This Dame for Hire (12 page)

“Then ya probably knew more about her than anyone.”

“I think I did.” She produced a lace handkerchief and held it tight.

I’ve noticed how these broads with bucks can always come up with a hanky even though there was no place they could stash it.

“She told ya secrets?”

June smiled. “Certainly.”

“She tell ya about Alec Rockefeller?”

“She did.” June leaned forward and picked up the glass plate with the buns. “Would you care for one, Miss Quick?”

“Oh, all right. Yes, thanks.” I reached out in a casual way, trying to give the impression I could take em or leave em.

But while my hand was still hanging in the air, she withdrew the plate, picked up a bun with something that looked like giant sterling silver tweezers, and transferred it to a smaller china plate.

She handed it, and a cloth napkin, to me.

“Thank you.”

“Would you like sugar and cream?”

“I take it black.”

When we were done with that rigamarole, I asked her if she knew Alec Rockefeller.

“I met him several times.”

“What did ya think of him?”

I thought I saw a slight blush spreading across her creamy cheeks.

“In a word, he’s a dreamboat.”

I took a bite of my bun so I could chew over her description of Alec. The bun was a tasty little thing, but I had no idea what it was. I guess it was a rich people’s bun. The coffee, on the other hand, tasted like a dreary day. Rich people’s coffee.

“A dreamboat, hmmm?”

“Just heaven, Miss Quick.”

“Call me Faye. Did ya have a sneaker for him?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I mean, did ya want him for yourself?”

She sat straighter in her chair, looking like she was gonna give me the business. “He was Claudette’s boyfriend.”

“That’s true. So what did Claudette tell ya about Alec?”

“She said that even though she’d known him only a short time, she was sure she was in love with him. Oh, poor Claudette.”

“Did she think that he was in love with her?”

“Yes. And she hoped Richard wouldn’t find out about them. She was afraid of Richard, you know.”

“Why?”

“He has a terrible temper, and he was jealous of everyone. She couldn’t even look at another boy when he was around.”

“What would he do?”

“Oh, he’d drag her out of wherever they were. Sometimes he’d yell at her.”

“Did ya ever see Richard hit her?”

“Oh, no. Nothing like that.”

“Was she still afraid of him after they broke up?”

“Absolutely. She thought he might be angry that she had gotten involved again so soon.”

“Let’s get back to Alec. What else did Claudette say about him? When they got together, would they go to his place?”

June’s head snapped back as though I’d socked her. “What are you implying, Miss Quick?”

“Nothing. I just wanna know how they spent time on their dates?”

“He took her to swell places like Twenty-one and the Latin Quarter, all the big nightclubs.”

“Did she tell ya where he lived?”

A look passed across her face that I couldn’t nail down.

“No. No, I don’t think she ever did.”

“Would ya say that they were serious about each other?”

“Well, she wouldn’t have married him right away, if that’s what you mean.”

“Why not?”

“She very much wanted to finish school.”

“To be what?”

“Not to
be
anything. She just wanted a college education. Then she’d get married like everyone else. But not before.”

“Did Alec know her plans?”

“Yes. He was disappointed because he wanted to marry her right away.”

“Pretty fast operator, wouldn’t ya say?”

“I guess so. But some boys are like that, don’t you find?”

“Some,” I said. I took another bite of my bun, and it was gone. I put a quick squint on June’s plate and flashed that she hadn’t even touched hers.

I guess she took my look-see in cause she said, “Would you like another bun, Faye?”

I wanted one like crazy. “No thank you, June. Did Alec try to pressure Claudette?”

“A little, I think. But there’s something you should know about Claudette. She fell in and out of love all the time.”

“Even when she was with Richard?”

“Oh, yes. But she didn’t do anything about it. She was prone to crushes.”

“Was Alec a crush?”

“I think he was more than that.”

“Have ya seen Alec lately?”

“Why would I see him?”

Her question told me that she had. When they ask a question back instead of a yes or no, they’re usually lying.

“Why wouldn’t ya?”

She took a long drag of her cigarette, shrugged, and put the butt out in a wine-colored ashtray the size of a birdbath.

“Mr. West told ya I was workin this case, right?”

“Well, yes, I guess he did. That is, he mentioned your name. He didn’t go into a lot of detail.”

“Did you mention my name to anyone?”

“I might have mentioned it to Peggy Ann.”

“Peggy Ann Lanchester?”

“Yes. That’s correct.”

“So why’d ya mention me to her?”

“Oh, I don’t know. We were just chatting on the telephone about this and that, and I told her about Mr. West’s call.”

“Did ya tell Alec?”

“I told you I haven’t seen Alec.”

“Since when?”

“Maybe a week before Claudette . . . Claudette . . . you know.”

A lotta people had a hard time using the word “murdered” or even “died.” So I supplied it for her.

“A week before she was murdered?”

“Yes.”

“Did Mr. West ask you about Alec?”

“Yes. It was strange. He wanted to know if I thought Alec was really Alec? If he was who he said he was?”

“And do you?”

“Of course. I didn’t even understand Mr. West’s question. Why wouldn’t Alec be Alec?”

“What if I told ya that Alec Rockefeller isn’t his real name?”

“Why would you tell me that?”

“Because it isn’t.”

She jumped up from her chair and flounced around, lit another cigarette, and started pacing back and forth and puffing on her cig like she was Bette Davis.

“Why do you say that, Miss Quick?”

“There is no Alec Rockefeller. No Alec in that family.”

“Then who is he?”

“I was hopin you’d tell me.”

“How can
I
tell you? I know him as Alec Rockefeller.”

“I’d like to meet the young man who calls himself Alec Rockefeller. Could you arrange that?”

“I told you—”

“Ya told me ya hadn’t seen him. But maybe ya have an address or phone number for him.”

Suddenly she stopped pacing and stared right at me. “No. No, I don’t.” There was that odd look on her face again.

“How about your friend, Peggy Ann? She know where he lives?”

“I don’t know. We never discussed that.”

“Yer findin it strange now, aren’t ya? Strange that ya don’t know where he lives or what his number is.”

June dropped into her chair and wilted like a plant in the desert. “Why? Why would Alec lie about who he is?”

“How do ya get in touch with him, June?”

“He calls me,” she said.

And there it was, the admission.

“So could we be honest about stuff now?”

She nodded.

“When’d ya talk to him last?”

“Yesterday.”

“And did ya tell him about West’s call and me?”

Sheepishly she said, “Yes, I did.”

“Don’t feel bad. How were ya supposed to know?”

“I feel like a fool.”

I shoulda known she wasn’t feeling bad about me. Dames like this were pretty swell-headed.

“Why did ya want to keep it a secret that you were seein him?”

“It didn’t seem proper. I mean, he was Claudette’s boyfriend.”

“But that was months ago. When did he first get in touch with you?”

“About a month after she . . . died.”

“And ya went out with him?”

“Well, yes.”

“Ya didn’t think it was strange that a boy who wanted to marry another girl a month before would now ask you out?”

“I did at first. But then Alec told me something very different from what Claudette had said.”

“And what was that?”

“He said he didn’t mean to be disrespectful of the dead, but Claudette had wanted to run away and get married and he hadn’t.”

“You believed him?”

“I did.”

This didn’t surprise me. Most people will believe what they want to hear.

“Since you didn’t go to his place where’d you two go?”

“We didn’t go anywhere public because we both felt it wasn’t the proper thing to do so soon.”

“So where’d ya see him?”

“I misspoke. We went to public places but not those our set would frequent. Not the places he’d taken Claudette. No one knew us where we went.”

“Such as?”

“Places in Greenwich Village.”

“Ah. Ya mean you were slummin?”

“Yes.”

“So who picked the meetin places?”

“He did. I wouldn’t know about places like that.” She wrinkled her nose like she was smelling a dead fish.

“Ya have a date with him comin up?”

“No. He said he’d call.”

“Was that before or after ya told him about Mr. West and me?”

I could see her thinking. “It was after.”

“Your friend, Peggy Ann, do ya think she might know somethin about Alec that you don’t know?”

“No. Peggy Ann only knows what I’ve told her.”

“Are ya sure about that?” I knew how con men operated.

“What do you mean?”

Should I tell her? I thought I should. “June, dollars to doughnuts, the man who calls himself Alec Rockefeller is most likely a con artist.”

“A what?”

Was it possible she was hearing this term for the first time? It was pretty clear that the big blue marble she lived in was like night and day from the one where I knocked around. So I explained.

“I see. And you think that’s what Alec is?”

“Yup.”

“So what’s that got to do with Peggy Ann?”

“Well, Mr. Rockefeller might be seein her, too.”

“But she’d tell me.”

“Would she? It wouldn’t be the first time two gals were seein the same guy and one of them kept zipped about it.”

“Not in our set, Miss Quick.”

I got the drift of that remark. “In any set, Miss Landis.”

“I can’t believe all this. Do you think Alec . . . or whoever he is . . . killed Claudette?”

“I don’t know. But I need to rule him out.”

“How will you do that?”

“I gotta meet him, talk to him.”

“And you want me to make a date with him for that purpose?”

“You catch on fast. Either you or Peggy Ann.”

“But we don’t know if she’s seeing him.”

“That’s why yer gonna call her now.”

She lit another cigarette, her hands shaking. “But I don’t think that’s right. You want me to trick her into admitting that she’s seeing him.”

“I do? I didn’t say anything about tricks. I want ya to tell her everything I told you and ask her nicely if she’s seein him. Tell her ya won’t be mad. Ya won’t, will ya?”

Her eyes sparked like small gems. “I have to admit I’m not sure.”

“Yeah, well, I can understand that.” I wouldn’t be over the moon if my friend Jeanne did that to me. “So ya don’t have to say ya won’t be mad.”

“If I don’t reassure her about that, she’ll never tell me. It’ll be a white lie.”

White, black, I never did get a handle on that one. “Good. Whatever works best for you. Ya think ya could call her now? She’ll be home?”

“I think so.”

She crossed the room to the telephone and dialed. She said hello, and I knew it was Peggy Ann on the other end of the line cause she didn’t ask for her.

I listened while June talked turkey. It took a while, but finally she gave me a high sign, making a circle with her thumb and forefinger. Then she thanked Peggy Ann and told her she’d call her back. June looked like she’d been leveled and wasn’t gonna get up for the count.

“She’s meeting him at the Four Oaks for cocktails this evening.”

“You upset?”

“I guess I feel betrayed.”

“By Alec?”

“By Peggy Ann. I never thought she’d try to take a beau away from me.”

“I guess it doesn’t happen too often in your set.” I couldn’t help myself. “Sorry ya feel bad, June.” And I was. “Ya did a first-rate job.”

“Thanks.”

“So Peggy Ann bought everything you told her and said she was willin to help me?”

“Yes.”

“What time is she meetin Alec?”

“Six.”

I’d have to move back my date with Jeanne, but she’d understand. “That spot’s not far from where I live.”

“You don’t expect me to come with you, do you?” The lovely Miss Landis looked like she’d be lucky to crawl across the room by evening.

“No. I want ya to call Peggy Ann back and ask her what she’ll be wearin so I’ll know who she is.”

She did. I thanked her, asked her to dummy up about what she knew, and then I left to get ready for a night in the slums.

FOURTEEN

I needed an escort to get into the Four Oaks, so I called on Marty Mitchum. I can’t say he was floating on air when I told him he had to wear a tie.

He picked me up at five-forty, and I filled him in on the Alec Rockefeller connection while we walked down Bleecker toward the restaurant.

“So yer thinkin this bozo might’ve knocked off the West gal?”

“I don’t know. But he was after her money for sure, and maybe when she shot down his marriage plans he went bonkers in the conkus.”

“What good would it do him to put her on ice?”

“We gotta remember she was pregnant.”

“Yeah, but ya said she was only seein this guy for two weeks before she was rubbed out.”

“That’s what the Wests said.”

“And June Landis?”

“She could’ve been datin this guy long before she let anyone know.”

“Yeah. Sure.”

At the door of the restaurant, Marty held it open for me, and I went in. There was a long staircase ya had to go down to get to the restaurant proper, a huge room with tables covered in enough white cloths and settings of sparkling silver to make me squint. At the back was a mahogany bar with padded stools.

The mâitre d’ greeted us.