Bloody River Blues

a fast stop and saw the car was skidding to a halt at thefar end of the alley. Pellam made a sharp turn down a one-way street and aimed toward a strip of brown river. After he had driven for a block he felt a strong sense of déjà vu and slowed, dropping down into first gear. The car was nowhere around him and, guided by instinct, he turned right and parked. He was on Third Street, next to a series of low factories and warehouses.
    From here he could see what had at one time probably been Maddox’s budding riverfront scene. Now it contained only empty storefronts, uninspired antique stores, bars and Callaghan’s Steak House.
    This was also the place where Donnie Buffett had been shot. Pellam noticed something beside his booted foot. Bloodstains, he believed, though they may have been nothing more than antifreeze or chocolate milk.
    “I’ll keep an eye on them, you want to get a bag or something.”
    “Yeah?”
    “Sure.”
    “Thanks.”
    Pellam parked the bike and found a phone booth. The phone worked, which surprised him. Upon calling directory assistance, he also was surprised to learn that the address he sought was only a block away.
    PELLAM DID NOT care for the smell of the place.
    Something about antiseptics, that sweet cheap-perfume smell of chilly stuff that gets dabbed on your skin before they cut or stick.
    Also the design was depressing: aluminum, bright vinyl, linoleum. For some reason, orange was verypopular. Orange and purple. Pellam had been in old hospitals, where you really got a sense of Medicine —dark woodwork and brass and pale green. As if somebody were discovering anesthetic or penicillin behind one of the gold-stenciled doors.
    Maddox General was like life and death in Kmart.
    Pellam signed in. The nurse pointed him down the hallway. Pellam walked past a cop stationed at the head of the corridor. He eyed Pellam carefully. “Hold up there, sir.”
    “I’d like to see Officer Buffett.”
    “You’re the witness.” The cop’s stony face remained immobile; his eyes painted Pellam up and down.
    “I just want to see how he’s doing.”
    “Open your jacket.”
    “I—”
    “You want to see him, open your jacket.”
    Pellam opened his jacket. The cop frisked him roughly and motioned toward Buffett’s room.
    On the TV was a game show. The sound was low; everything but the loudest applause was inaudible. The reception wasn’t very good and there was a thick band of distortion through the center of the screen. The host and the contestants were smiling a lot.
    Buffett wasn’t.
    “How you doing?” Pellam asked and identified himself.
    “I remember you.”
    Pellam walked to a gray chair. He stood as if deciding whether or not to sit. “I brought you this.” He put a book, a recent best-seller, on the table. “It’s a mystery. I don’t know if you like them.”
    Buffett kept staring at him.
    Pellam cleared his throat. The silence filled in again. He said, “I didn’t know if you’d like a bottle. What d’you drink anyway? Beer?”
    “I got shot in the back.”
    “I heard. How you feeling?”
    “How do you think I feel?”
    Silence again. Pellam decided there wasn’t going to be any lighthearted banter and joshing. He stood back from the chair and crossed his arms. “Look. I’m sorry about what happened. But I’d like to ask a favor. Your buddies in the police department, a couple detectives particularly, are giving me a pretty hard time. You know, following me. They think I saw this guy who was in the car—”
    Buffett, eyes on the TV screen, blurted, “Well, you did .”
    “I didn’t see him,” Pellam said evenly. “I know you think I did. But I didn’t.”
    Buffett kept staring at the tube. His eyes were dark, agitated. He licked the corner of his mouth with the tip of his tongue. This made him seem like a cornered animal. “How could you help but? He was in the front seat.”
    “There was glare.”
    “The hell there was glare.”
    Pellam’s face flushed. “You think I’m covering up something? I’m not. I described the guy who bumped into me.”
    “Oh, that’s mighty brave of you. I saw him. We don’t need his description. Anyway, he’s rabbited. He was just the hired gun and he’s back in Miami or Chicago by now.”
    “Do you think they paid me off?”
    “I think you’re like everybody else. You don’t want to get involved.”
    Pellam sighed. “I better be going.”
    “I think when you look in the front seat of a car, you fucking see