“It’s a liquid detergent. Y’know, ring around the collar?”
“I know what Wisk is, Lieutenant. What does it mean?”
He shifted uncomfortably there on the sidewalk. “It means her killer was downstairs in the laundry room doing a load of wash while we was there. It means the fucker left
after
we did.”
“You didn’t check the laundry room at the time?”
“We had no reason to,” he replied sharply. “It read suicide, remember?”
“But how did he get in?”
“We don’t know,” he snapped, nostrils flaring. “We blew it, okay! That what you wanna hear? You happy?”
“Not particularly.”
He shoved the notepad back into his jeans, softened. “She was the one I talked to on the phone at your apartment, wasn’t she?”
“She was.”
“Seemed real nice.”
“She was.”
“Lived with Cam Noyes, didn’t she?”
“Until recently.”
He nodded away. “How’d you figure in that?”
“I didn’t. I let her use my place while I was away. That’s all.”
“So she dumped him?” he asked, smelling a motive.
“He’s been seeing someone else.”
“That’d be Delilah Moscowitz, huh?”
“Why, yes. How did you — ?”
“I staked out his house last night for the helluv it. She stayed over. Noyes wouldn’t by any chance own a bowie knife, would he?”
I hesitated. It didn’t make any sense. He’d
wanted
Charlie to leave him. Or so he’d said.
Had
he killed her? Killed them both? How much more did I owe him? How much farther out on the limb was I prepared to go for this man who’d done nothing but lie to me?
Very was staring up at me, eyes narrowed. “A bowie knife?” he repeated.
“I wouldn’t know,” I finally replied.
“I see,” he said doubtfully, popping his gum. “Been doing some more checking on you, dude. Your other ghosting gigs.”
“Learn anything interesting?”
“Yeah. People have this way of dying around you.”
“You noticed.”
“Of course I noticed. I’m a detective. Noticing things is my business. You got something against me?”
“Absolutely not, Lieutenant.”
“Then how come you’re not being straight with me? You haven’t been straight with me from the start.”
I left that one alone.
Very shook his head. “I oughta take you in. I really oughta. Only you’re a paddle. You’ll do me more good out here, stirring up the water. I’m putting you on a tight leash, understand? If I feel like yanking, I yank. Hard.”
“Thanks for the warning, Lieutenant. Anything else?”
He belched. “Yeah, don’t leave town again.”
“I wouldn’t think of it.”
I looked around for Lulu. I didn’t see her. I found her inside with the cops. They were ignoring her. They shouldn’t have been. She was sneezing.
The Loveboat wasn’t out front, and he wasn’t in the house. His clothes had been cleared out of his closet. His suitcases were gone.
He was gone.
I sat down on his bed, took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. I had no choice now. I had to believe it. The man I’d been working with these past weeks was a murderer.
I reached for the phone on the nightstand to call Very and tell him. But I couldn’t make myself dial the phone.
I had to find him myself first. Had to ask him who he really was. Had to ask him why. Only then could I turn him in. Step away. Lick my wounds. I never said I was smart. In fact, when it comes to getting involved with my celebrity subjects, I definitely am not.
The contractor had shown up again. The new kitchen sink was in now. Out back, the bluestone patio had finally been laid in its bed of cement. It came out real nice.
Too bad there wasn’t anybody living there anymore to appreciate it.
When all else failed me there was still Bobby Short. I took in his midnight show at the Hotel Carlyle. It’s what I do when I can’t see life’s bright side no matter how damned hard I look for it. There’s just something about the way Bobby has with Cole Porter, about the sharp brine of the caviar and the tart cold of the champagne that cures what ails me. Usually. Not tonight. Tonight I kept thinking about how he shouldn’t have done it. Any of it. Tonight I kept thinking about how big a jerk I was. I should take out an ad:
This friend for hire. Give him a table and he’ll follow you anywhere
. Tonight I kept thinking about Charlie, and the way her glasses slid down her nose.
Bobby was playing “I Get a Kick Out of You” when there was a rustle next to me, and the scent of avocado oil. It was Merilee, in a shimmering white strapless dress. Her hair was brushed out long and golden and she had on one of her old trademark white silk headbands. She slid into the banquette across from me.
“What are you doing here?” I asked as Lulu whooped and licked her fingers.
The waiter brought her a glass and poured her some champagne. She heaped some caviar on a wedge of toast, ate half of it, and fed Lulu the rest, almost losing a finger in the process. Lulu has mighty expensive taste for someone who eats canned mackerel.
“I’m taking in the rest of this show and this caviar with you, darling,” she said, sipping her champagne. “Then I’m taking you to the Cat Club on East Thirteenth, where they have a dance floor and a seventeen-piece swing band that’s as loud and hot as they come. If you’re still on your feet after that, and if you’re good to me, I’ll take you down to Ratner’s and buy you a large plate of lox and onions and eggs before I deposit you at your door.” She poured herself some more champagne. “But first I’d switch to single malt if I were you. I understand the barman has a fine old Glenmorangie.”
“Merilee … ?”
“Yes, darling?”
I got lost in her green eyes for a moment. “You’re not the worst person I’ve ever known.”
She smiled and took my hand. “That’s positively the second-nicest thing you’ve ever said to me, Hoagy.”
“What’s the nicest?”
“ ‘I felt that one all the way down to my toenails.’ ”
“Why, Merilee, you’re getting awfully frisky in your gender years.”
“It’s true, I am. Isn’t it odd?”
I got the waiter over and ordered a double Glenmorangie. I downed it in one gulp when it came, and ordered another.
Lulu didn’t growl at me.
(T
APE #1 WITH DELILAH
Moscowitz recorded May 16 in her apartment on Twelfth St. Decor is modem, expensive, impersonal. Wears black sleeveless jumpsuit, sweat socks, no makeup. Hair is tied in a tight ponytail.)
Moscowitz
: You look like you were out all night drinking.
Hoag:
Only because I was, Red.
Moscowitz:
I didn’t sleep a wink either, thinking about Cam. The police were here asking me all sorts of questions, like they think I know where he went or something.
Hoag:
Was it Very?
Moscowitz:
Very what?
Hoag:
Lt. Romaine Very.
Moscowitz:
Is he gorgeous?
(no response)
Has an ulcer?
Hoag
. Yes.
Moscowitz:
It was Very. They know it was Cam’s knife now. They dug up a
Rolling Stone
photo of him cleaning his fingernails with it. Same markings and everything. Can I get you more cranberry juice?
Hoag:
This will be fine.
Moscowitz:
Sorry I don’t keep anything else in the house. I’m a compulsive eater — whatever’s here I go through. Where’s your little dog?
Hoag:
My ex-wife gets her on Sundays.
Moscowitz:
Just like child custody. How cute.
Hoag:
Do you?
Moscowitz:
Do I what?
Hoag:
Know where Cam went.
Moscowitz:
How would I know?
Hoag:
Look, I’m not the police. I’m on his side. If you want to help him, tell me what you know. Have you heard from him?
Moscowitz:
No, damn it. All I know is he’s gone and they’re after him and … promise you won’t tell the police this?
Hoag:
We don’t pool information.
Moscowitz:
I’m pissed as hell that he didn’t take me with him.
Hoag:
You’d have gone?
Moscowitz:
Are you shitting me, jack? The man I love is a hunted desperado. He’s
front page news
.
Hoag:
He’s a murderer.
Moscowitz:
I don’t care. I’d give anything to be on the run with him.
Hoag:
Just like Bonnie and Clyde?
Moscowitz:
Better. My parents wouldn’t shit bricks over Bonnie and Clyde.
Hoag:
I guess you got to know him pretty well.
Moscowitz:
I guess.
Hoag:
Did he ever talk to you about his childhood?
Moscowitz:
Never. He’s peculiar that way. Most men I’ve known like to unload after they unload. Not him.
Hoag:
Does the name Ferris Rush mean anything to you?
Moscowitz:
Ferris Rush? Is that a man or a woman?
Hoag:
A man.
Moscowitz:
No. Never heard it before. Look, I don’t mean to rush you, but I have to finish packing.
Hoag:
Going out on tour, I understand.
Moscowitz:
Yes, I’m doing the Carson show on Tuesday. Local L.A. TV and radio. Then San Francisco. Then I work my way back across the country. Twenty-one cities in eighteen days. A major grind.
Hoag:
Any chance you’re meeting up with Cam somewhere along the line?
Moscowitz:
Only if he gets hold of me and says come.
Hoag:
And you will?
Moscowitz:
I will.
Hoag:
Even if it hurts your career?
Moscowitz:
I couldn’t care less about my career.
Hoag:
He told me the two of you went to Ozone Park the night Skitsy was killed. Got to the Galaxy Motel at about eight. That part checks out. What doesn’t is where he was an hour earlier when she was thrown off her terrace.
Moscowitz:
We were eating at a White Castle.
Hoag:
So he said.
Moscowitz:
It’s the truth.
Hoag:
You’re claiming he didn’t kill Skitsy?
Moscowitz:
Look, maybe he killed Charlie. It sure looks like he did. But he was with me when Skitsy died. I swear it.
Hoag:
I see. You know, it’s funny how alibis work. You’re his for the time of her death. But you can also turn that equation around — he’s
yours
.
Moscowitz:
What’s that supposed to mean?
Hoag:
Pretty strong, aren’t you?
Moscowitz:
My coach at the club said I bench press more weight than half the men he has.
Hoag:
You’d do anything for Cam, wouldn’t you?
Moscowitz:
Yes, I would.
Hoag:
Would you kill for him?
Moscowitz: (silence)
I didn’t throw Skitsy off of that terrace.
Hoag:
Were you happy with her as your editor?
Moscowitz:
Of course.
Hoag:
No creative differences?
Moscowitz:
Skitsy Held put this reporter on the best-seller list. That has a way of smoothing over all sorts of creative differences — not that I’m saying we had any.
Hoag:
You would have if she’d found out about you and Cam.
Moscowitz:
That’s true.
Hoag:
Had she?
Moscowitz:
Not that I know of.
Hoag:
What did Cam tell you about the two of them?
Moscowitz:
Very little, except that she liked to be tied up.
Hoag:
Nothing about why he continued to see her?
Moscowitz:
I guess he liked doing the tieing. I wasn’t thrilled about her, but I didn’t consider her any sort of rival. It was Charlie who was his main squeeze. You already know how she and I got along.
Hoag:
I guess you were pretty happy when Charlie gave up on him.
Moscowitz:
Sure I was.
Hoag:
Any idea how Skitsy felt about her?
Moscowitz:
Cam said she never found her particularly threatening.
Hoag:
You she would have found?
Moscowitz:
Me she’d have freaked over. But what’s the point in going on about it? It never happened.
Hoag:
Just thinking out loud. It’s kind of interesting how the three of you were all involved with the same man, and how the two of them are dead, and you’re not.
Moscowitz:
You don’t actually think
I
did away with them, do you?
Hoag:
I think you were at Rat’s Nest yesterday. I think you were there right around the time Charlie was murdered.
Moscowitz:
I-I wasn’t. I’ve never even been near the place.
Hoag:
Don’t kid a kidder, Red.
Moscowitz:
What makes you so sure I was there?
Hoag:
I have my methods.
Moscowitz: (silence)
Do the police know?
Hoag:
Not from me they don’t.
Moscowitz:
All right … Cam trusted you. I’ll trust you.
(pause)
I went to see her.
Hoag:
What for?
Moscowitz:
So there’d be no hard feelings. She and Cam still had to work together on their book, and I wanted it to go well. I did it for his sake.
Hoag:
It had nothing to do with her threatening to cut you if she ever caught you near him again?
Moscowitz:
She didn’t scare me.
Hoag:
How did your visit go?
Moscowitz:
Shockingly well, though I must admit it was a little weird having this serious conversation with a blue mannequin. I told her how sorry I was it had happened, and how I’d never meant to hurt her. She said she understood and that she was fine. That she’d already met someone else who she really liked. She thanked me for coming by, and apologized for what happened in Sammy’s. And then I left.
Hoag:
What time?
Moscowitz:
I don’t remember exactly. I got there about one. She was alive when I left. The clerk saw me go. Ask her. Go ahead.