The two patrolmen knew Earl Hoffman. Ididn't even have to explain.

chapter23

The red sun sank abruptly when the planecame down into the shadow of the mountains. I had wired my ETA to the Waltersagency, and Phyllis was waiting for me at the airport.

She took my hand and offered me her cheek.She had a peaches-and-cream complexion, a little the worse for sun, and opaquesmiling eyes the color of Indian enamel.

"You look tired, Lew. But you do exist."

"Don't tell me. It makes me feel tiredér.You look wonderful."

"It gets more difficult as I getolder. But then some other things get easier." She didn't say what things.We walked toward her car in the sudden evening. "What were you doing inIllinois, anyway? I thought you were working on a case in Pacific Point."

"It's in both places. I found an oldpre-war murder in Illinois which seems to be closely tied in with the currentones. Don't ask me how. It would take all night to explain, and we have moreimportant things to do."

"You do, anyway. You have a dinnerdate at eight-thirty with Mrs. Sally Burke. You're an old friend of mine fromLos Angeles, business unspecified. You take it from there."

"How did you fix it?"

"It wasn't hard. Sally dotes on freedinners and unattached men. She wants to get married again."

"But how did you get to knowher?"

"I sort of happened into her at thebar where she hangs out and we got drunk together last night. One of us gotdrunk, anyway. She did some talking about her brother Judson, who may be theman you want."

"He is. Where does he live?"

"Somewhere on the South Shore. It's ahard place to find people, as you know. Arnie's out there looking for himnow."

"Lead me to the sister."

"You sound like a lamb asking to beled to the slaughter. Actually she's a pretty nice gal," she said withfemale solidarity. "Not bright, but she has her heart in the right place.She's very fond of her brother."

"So was Lucrezia Borgia."

Phyllis slammed the car door. We drovetoward Reno, a city where nothing good had ever happened to me, but I kepthoping.

Mrs. Sally Burke lived close in on RileyStreet, in the upper flat of an old two-story house. Phyllis dropped me off infront of it at eight-twenty-nine, having extracted my promise to come back andspend the night with Arnie and her. Mrs. Burke was waiting in full panoply onthe upper landing: tight black sheath with foxes, pearls and earrings,four-inch heels. Her hair was mingled brown and blonde, as if to express thecomplexity of her personality. Her brown eyes appraised me, as I came up to herlevel, the way an antebellum plantation owner might look over an able-bodiedslave on the auction block.

She smelled nice, anyway, and she had apleasant friendly anxious smile. We exchanged greetings and names. I was tocall her Sally right away.

"I'm afraid I can't ask you in, theplace is a mess. I never seem to get anything done on Sunday. You know the oldsong, 'Gloomy Sunday'? That is, since my divorce. Phyllis says you'redivorced."

"Phyllis is right."

"It's different for a man," shesaid with some faint resentment. "But I can see you could use a woman tolook after you."

She was one of the fastest and leastefficient workers I'd ever met. My heart went down toward my boots. She waslooking at my boots, and at the clothes I had slept in on the plane. On theother hand I was able-bodied. I had climbed the stairs unaided.

"Where shall we eat?" she said."The Riverside is nice."

It was nice and expensive. After a coupleof drinks I ceased to care about spending Alex's money. I began to befascinated, in a way, by Sally Burke's conversation. Her ex-husband, if I couldbelieve her, was a combination of Dracula, Hitler, and Uriah Heep. He made atleast twenty-five thousand a year as a salesman in the Northwest, but more thanonce she had to attach his salary to collect her measly six hundred a monthalimony. She was having a rough time making ends meet, especially now that herlittle brother had lost his job at the club.

I ordered her another drink and indicatedmild sympathy.

"Jud's a good boy," she said, asif somebody had just denied it. "He played football at Washington Stateand led the team in rushing. A lot of people in Spokane thought he would havemade All-American if he'd played for a better-known school. But he never gotdue recognition, he never has. He lost his coaching job out of sheer politicspure and simple. The charges they made were a lot of poppycock, he told me sohimself."

"What charges?"

"Nothing. They were a lot ofpoppycock, I mean it." She finished her fourth martini and regarded mewith simple cunning over the empty glass. "I don't believe you told mewhat kind of business that you're in. Lew?"

"I don't believe I did. I run a smallagency in Hollywood."

"Isn't that interesting? Jud hasalways been interested in acting. He hasn't done any, actually, but he's saidto be a very handsome boy. Jud was down in Hollywood last week."

"Looking for an acting job?"

© Alexander Sviyash, 2009