Murder Takes a Break (26 page)

It could have, but I didn't think it had.
 
I told Dino that there was one way to find out, though.

"How's that?" Dino said.

"We can go and ask her," I said.

I
wasn't really sure that another visit to the Hurricane Club was a good idea, considering the fact that neither Dino nor I was in what you could call prime condition, but Dino assured me that he could take anything Big Al could dish out, and although I didn't believe it for a second, I was too macho to admit that I wasn't so sure about myself.
 

Anyway, this time I had my pistol.
 
And the bartender didn't have his little baseball bat.
 
He'd had the one we took away from him for forty years, so I didn't expect him to replace it anytime soon.

So we drove up to the club again and parked practically in the same spot we'd used the night before.
 
I wondered if that was a good omen, or a bad one.

Dino didn't seem to care.
 
He got out of the truck with surprising ease, and he was practically inside the club before I was able to catch up with him.

"Don't be in such a hurry," I told him.
 
"I'm sure they have enough enchiladas for both of us."

"I'm not interested in ordering dinner," he said.
 
"I think we're on the right track here."

I didn't, but it was nice to see him so enthusiastic about something besides a bargain on the Home Shopping Network for a change.
 
Maybe I should consider making him a partner.
 
That way, we'd both get out of the house a lot more often.

The inside of the Hurricane Club was no more appealing than it had been on our previous visit, maybe even less so, and the clientele looked pretty much the same, except that the guy with the eye patch was missing.

The Christmas tree on the bar didn't look any worse, as far as I could see, but it might have shed a few more of its needles.
 
I suspected that by New Year's Eve there would be a pile of brown needles about an inch deep under it, while the branches of the tree would be completely bare.

The juke box was playing a seasonal number, a syrupy instrumental version of "White Christmas" that would have driven away any self-respecting tough guy.
 
It was almost bad enough to make
me
want to turn around and go back outside.

Big Al was sitting alone at her table.
 
There was no food in front of her this time; she'd most likely eaten already.
 
She took a drink from a beer bottle, but she set it on the table when we came in and motioned for us to join her.

"Don't worry," she said when we got to the table.
 
"I'm not the type to hold grudges.
 
What happened last night was partly my fault, after all.
 
Sometimes I think I should keep Henry J. on a tighter leash."

She didn't know the half of it, or I didn't think she did.
 
If Dino was right, however, she was way ahead of me.
 
And she was also a damned good actress.

"Willie won't bother you, either," she said.
 
"In case you were wondering."

Willie must have been the bartender.
 
I glanced over in his direction, but he was ignoring us completely, polishing a spot on the bar with great concentration.
 
It was probably the only spot on the bar that had been polished within the last quarter of a century.

Dino sat down and said, "We weren't worried about Willie.
 
We can handle him."

Big Al looked pointedly at his arm and gave me the old up-and-down.

"The two of you don't look like you could handle a three-year-old girl with the 'flu.
 
You look like somebody dragged you through Offatt's Bayou about an inch off the bottom, Smith.
 
What happened to you two, anyway?"

"You should know," Dino said.

It came out hard and flat, sort of like Jack Webb might have said it on
Dragnet
.
 
I thought again that I should hire Dino.
 
He was a lot better at this than I was.
 
Of course, I was pretty sure that he was on the wrong track, but that didn't bother me.
 
The thing was that he
sounded
as if he were absolutely right.

I was still standing, and Big Al looked up at me quizzically.

"Do you have any idea what he's talking about?" she asked.

I nodded.
 
"I'm afraid so."

"I wish you'd let me in on it, then."

I was about to, but in the pause between the end of "White Christmas" and the beginning of Tony Bennett's "I Left My Heart in San Francisco," I head the phone ring at the end of the bar.
 
Willie went over to answer it, and I had a sudden premonition that I knew what the call was about.

"Something's happened," I said.
 
"Something that I think we need to talk over."

"She knows what's happened," Dino said.
 
"She's the one behind it."

Willie was walking over to the table.
 
He looked like a man who had just lost five grand at the dog track and didn't know how he was going to explain it to his wife.

"The phone's for you," he told Big Al.

She made no move to get up.
 
"Who is it?
 
Can't you take a message?"

Willie looked at me and Dino.
 
"You'd better just take it yourself," he said.

Big Al pushed back her chair and got up.
 
She knew better than to press Willie for details.
 
You never knew who might be calling.
 
It could be someone that she didn't want Dino and me to know about, like her snitch in the police department.
 
I didn't doubt that she had one.
 
I was just surprised that it had taken him this long to call, if that was who it was.

While Big Al was walking toward the phone, Dino turned to me and said, "You're not playing this right.
 
If you wanna do the 'good cop, bad cop' routine, that's OK, but you gotta work with me a little better."

"I don't want to do any routine," I said.
 
"I don't think Big Al has any idea about what's happened tonight.
 
If I'm right, that's someone calling to tell her right now."

"How could you know that?"

"I don't know it.
 
But judging from the way Willie the Bartender looked, it has to be bad news.
 
Can you think of any other really bad news that Big Al might be getting right about now?"

He couldn't, but he hated to admit it.
 
We both looked at Big Al as she talked into the telephone receiver.
 
After a while she hung it up and stood where she was, looking out over the room.
 
I don't think she was seeing anything, however.

After what seemed like quite a while, she reached out and grabbed the handle of a nearly empty beer mug that was sitting on the bar.
 
She threw the mug as hard as she could at the Christmas tree, which exploded into a shower of needles and sparkly ornaments.

The tree didn't do much to slow down the mug, which kept right on going past the end of the bar, crashing through the front of the juke box, and cutting off the Four Aces right in the middle of "Three Coins in the Fountain."
 
By the time most of the lights in the juke box had blinked out, the clientele of the Hurricane Club had faded silently away.
 
They might not have known what was going on, but they knew they didn't want to be a part of it.
 
The only people left in the place were Dino, me, Big Al, and Willie, who was studiously ignoring the rest of us.
 
He'd already lost his baseball bat, and he wasn't going to lose anything else.

Big Al came back over to the table, reached out one big hand, and grabbed Dino's shoulder.
 
His face turned red, and his eyes bugged out, but he didn't fall out of the chair.
 
She squeezed a little harder.
 
Dino listed sharply to the right, but he still didn't make a sound.

Big Al wasn't looking at Dino while she squeezed.
 
She was looking at me, and not with affection.

"You sons of bitches," she said.
 
"I ought to kill both of you right here."

"We didn't do anything to Henry J.," I said.
 
"We're just the ones who found him."

"That's not what I heard."

"Well, you heard wrong.
 
Let go of Dino's shoulder, and I'll tell you what happened."

She didn't move her hand, but she let up on the pressure a bit.
 
Dino sagged in the chair and took a deep, shuddering breath.

"Why should I believe a damn word you say?" Big Al asked.

"Because it'll be the truth.
 
Would we have come here if we'd killed Henry J.?
 
We may be stupid, but we're not entirely crazy."

"Maybe not."
 
Big Al didn't sound completely convinced, though she took her hand away from Dino.
 
"But if I ever find out that you had anything to do with killing Henry J., you'll be feeding the crabs in about ten minutes."

I didn't much like the idea of becoming crab fodder, but I said, "Fair enough.
 
Now do you want to hear what really happened, or not?"

She wanted to hear.
 
She sat down across from Dino, who was still in no condition to join in the conversation.
 
I sat beside her and told her about Sharon and about what had happened when we got to Henry J.'s place.

"And you think he'd shoot at her because of some little thing like that GHB?" Big Al said when I was finished.

"Why not?" I said.
 
"Henry J. wasn't exactly shy about hurting people, and Sharon knew something that could get him in big trouble if she told it."

"In the first place, who's she gonna tell?
 
The cops?
 
They wouldn't believe her, and if they did, they couldn't prove anything."

"What if she told you?"

"I already knew.
 
I found out about it months ago, and I straightened Henry J. out, believe me.
 
He and I understood each other, and all it took was a little discussion."

Big Al paused and her eyes misted up, and she squeezed them shut.
 
I couldn't believe what I was seeing.
 
Tears started to run down her cheeks beside her nose.

"Henry J. was the only friend I ever had," she said, opening her eyes and wiping her face with the back of her hand.
 
"He was the only man I ever trusted.
 
And you think
I
killed him?
 
You're crazy, all right."

I would have told her that it was all Dino's idea, but this didn't seem to be the right time for that.
 
Dino might have spoken up himself, but he still wasn't talking.

"I'm sorry," I said.
 
"I'm going to find whoever did it, though.
 
You can count on it."

Big Al sniffed and pulled a paper napkin from the black metal holder that sat on the table.
 
She dried her eyes and tossed the wadded napkin on the table.

"Maybe you're going to find him, and maybe you're not," she said.
 

Her eyes were still sparkling, but they were hard as the head of a railroad spike.

"Why do you say that?"

"Maybe I'll find him first.
 
If I do, there won't be anything left for you to find."

I could tell she wasn't joking, but I wasn't too worried.
 
I didn't think she was going to find anyone.

I turned to Dino.
 
"Are you about ready to leave, or would you like a beer?"

"Uh," Dino said.

I didn't think this would be a good time to remind him that he'd told me he could take anything Big Al could dish out.
 
I put a hand under his elbow and helped him to his feet.
 
We looked like two very old men as we hobbled toward the door.
 

I looked over at Willie, but he wasn't interested in trying anything, which was just as well.
 
I don't think Dino and I could have handled him.
 
For that matter, I don't think we could have handled Minnie Mouse.

"You two'd better go home and go to bed," Big Al said to our backs.

I didn't see any point in arguing with her.
 
It was probably the best idea I'd heard all night.