Cops think she killed her husband, I said.
Honest to God, Pryor said. I didnt think she had the juice for it.
I hope youre right, I said.
So why do you want to talk to Isaacs?
See what he can tell me.
Pryor grinned. Good thinking, he said. You know what youre hoping to hear?
No.
So how about if you hear it, Pryor said, will you know it?
I hope so.
Man, waitll I tell the boys down at the station how I had coffee with a real private eye.
You know how it goes, I said. You get a case. You just keep poking around, see what scurries out.
You get a case, Pryor said. Currently Im trying to catch the kids who spray-painted fuck on the middle-school front door.
I guess youre not allowed to shoot them, I said.
No, Pryor said. They get to talk with a guidance counselor.
Hows that work? I said.
Keeps the guidance counselor employed, Pryor said.
I paid for the coffee. Pryor directed me to the bowling alley, and I drove on over to see Pike.
A couple of women in tight jeans and loose T-shirts were bowling candle pins in the first alley. The rest of the alleys were empty. The guy at the desk directed me to Pike, who was replacing the sand in the big free-standing ashtrays that stood near each lane. One of the women bowled a spare, and the clash of the pins echoed loudly off the hard surfaces. I showed him my license and we sat on one of the banquets where, when business was good, bowlers sat and waited for their turn.
Pike was a tallish guy with narrow shoulders and thinning blond hair that hadnt been cut. His face was red. When he sat next to me I could smell the booze on him.
Jesus Christ, a fucking private detective? How about that? Goddamn. You ever see that movie Chinatown?
What can you tell me about Mary Toricelli? I said.
You know, Jack Nicholson gets his nose cut, and he goes around with this fucking bandage on the whole freakin movie.
Thats just what its like, I said. Mary Toricelli?
What about her?
What can you tell me about her? I said.
It worth any dough?
Maybe.
Lemme see?
I took a twenty out and showed it to him.
He grinned. All right! he said. Whaddya wanna know?
Whatever you can tell me, I said.
What if it aint worth twenty?
Sitting there and saying nothing isnt worth anything, I said.
So I may as well say something, huh?
May as well, I said.
One of the women rolled a strike. Both of them cheered and low fived each other.
She turned out to be a lot better-looking than she was in school. You know? Sometimes thatll happen with a broad. She grows up and learns to take care of herself and turns out to be some pretty good-looking pussy.
Youve noticed that,
too, I said.
You should be talking to Roy Levesque. You know Roy?
Weve met. Why should I talk to him?
He still sees her.
And you dont?
Well, I mean I see her in town sometimes, Pike said. With Roy. But I mean Roys seeing her, you know?
They intimate?
Oh sure, Roys been fucking her for twenty years.
I heard she was married, I said.
Yeah, some rich guy. Never bothered her and Roy though.
Was she going with Roy before she got married?
Sure.
Howd Roy feel about her getting married?
He liked it. All that dough?
He get some of it?
Pike looked at me like Id asked about the Easter bunny. Course he got some of it.
From the front desk the manager yelled at Pike. Leagues start pouring in here at five, he said. I need them ashtrays clean by then.
Fuck you, Pike muttered but not so loud that the manager could hear him.
He stood and looked at me. I gotta get to work, he said. That worth twenty to you?
I gave him the bill. He folded it over and stuck it in his pocket. Then he had a thought. I could tell he wasnt used to it.
Hey, youre not gonna tell Roy I was talking about him, are you?
Why not? I said.
He dont like people talking about him. You gonna tell him, Ill give you back your twenty.
Why doesnt he like people talking about him?
Roys a mean bastard, Pike said. You dont know what hes gonna do.
What might he do? I said.
I just told you, Pike said. You dont never know what hes gonna do.
From his shirt pocket he took a little nip bottle of vodka, unscrewed the cap, and drank it.
Little cocktail, he said. Settle my stomach.
I wont tell Roy, I said.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Did Amy Peters have a case? I said.
Theres always a case, Maggie Mills said, especially if you are one of a discriminated minority.
She was a senior partner at the law firm of Mills and DAmbrosio, about fifty-five, and small, with crisp gray hair and hard blue eyes.
Like women, I said.
Women are a good example, she said. It is nearly always possible to raise the issue of gender discrimination.
Was it justified in this instance?
Maggie Mills smiled. It was a somewhat frosty smile.
That would need to be adjudicated, she said. Clearly there was something at issue besides her professional competence.
Why do you say so?
Among other things, she was frightened, Maggie Mills said.
I know. Do you think she came to you because she was scared?
Maggie Mills shook her head briskly.