D Is for Deadbeat

about that."
    "Really," I said. "What for?"
    "In case something came up later. She didn't want it to look like I was holding out."
    "So you think they caught up with him?"
    "He's dead, ain't he?"
    "Proving what?"
    "Don't ask me. I mean, all I know is what Daggett said. He was on the run and he thought I'd help."
    "How?"
    "A place to hide."
    "When did you meet with him?"
    "Not till Thursday. I was tied up."
    "Pressing social engagements, no doubt."
    "Hey, I was looking for work. I'm on parole and I got requirements to meet."
    "You didn't see him Friday?"
    "Uh-uh. I just saw him once and that was Thursday night."
    "What'd he do in the meantime?"
    "I don't know. He never said."
    "Where'd you meet him?"
    "At the bar where Coral works."
    "Ah, now I see. She got worried I'd ask around and somebody'd say they saw you with him."
    "Well, yeah. Coral don't like me to mess with the law, especially with me on parole anyway."
    "How come it took the bad guys so long to catch up with him? He's been out of prison for six weeks."
    "Maybe they didn't figure it was him at first. Daggett wasn't the brightest guy, you know. He never did nothin' right in his life. They prob'bly figured he was too dumb to stick his hand in a mattress and walk off with the cash."
    "Did Daggett have the money with him when you talked to him?"
    "Are you kidding? He tried to borrow ten bucks from me," Billy said, aggrieved.
    "What was the deal?" I asked. "If he gave the money back, they'd let him off the hook?"
    "Probably not. I doubt that."
    "So do I," I said. "How do you think Lovella figures into this?"
    "She doesn't. It's got nothing to do with her."
    "I wouldn't be too sure about that. Somebody saw Daggett down at the marina last Friday night, dead drunk, in the company of a trashy-looking blonde."
    Even in the dark, I could tell Billy Polo was staring at me.
    "A blonde?"
    "That's right. She was on the young side from what I was told. He was staggering, and she had to work to keep him on his feet."
    "I don't know nothin' about that."
    "Neither do I, but it sure sounded like Lovella to me."
    "Ask her about it then."
    "I intend to," I said. "So what happens next?"
    "About what?"
    "The thirty thousand, for starters. With Daggett dead, does the money go back to the guys who were after him?"
    "If they found it, I guess it does," he said, uncomfortably.
    "What if they didn't find it?"
    Billy hesitated. "Well, I guess if it's stashed somewhere, it'd belong to his widow, wouldn't it? Part of his estate?"
    I was beginning to get the drift here, but I wondered if he did. "You mean Essie?"
    "Who?"
    "Daggett's widow, Essie."
    "He's divorced from her," Billy said.
    "I don't think so. At least not as far as the law is concerned."
    "He's married to Lovella," he said.
    "Not legally."
    "You're shittin' me."
    "Come to the funeral tomorrow and see for yourself."
    "This Essie has the money?"
    "No, but I know where it is. Twenty-five thousand of it, at any rate."
    "Where?" he said, with disbelief.
    "In my pocket, sweetheart, in the form of a cashier's check made out to Tony Gahan. You remember, Tony, don't you?"
    Dead silence.
    I lowered my voice. "You want to tell me who Doug Polokowski is?"
    Billy Polo turned and walked away.
    I stood there for a moment and then followed reluctantly, still pondering the fact that he had my home address. Last time I'd talked to him, he didn't even buy the fact that I was a private investigator. Now suddenly he was seeking me out, having confidential chats about Daggett on my front step. It didn't add up.
    I heard his car door slam as I reached the street. I hung back in the shadows, watching as he swung the Chevrolet out of a parking place four doors down. He gunned it, speeding off toward the beach."I debated about whether to pursue him, but I couldn't bear the thought of lurking about outside Coral's trailer again.
    Enough of that stuff. I turned back and let myself into my apartment. I kept thinking about the fact that my car was broken into, my handbag stolen, along with all of my personal identification. Had Billy Polo done that? Is that how he came up with my home address? I couldn't figure out how he'd tracked me to the beach in the first place, but it would explain how he knew where to find me now.
    I was sure he was maneuvering, but I couldn't figure out what he'd hoped to get. Why the yarn about Daggett and the bad guys in jail? It did fit with some of the facts, but it didn't have that nice, untidy ring of truth.
    I hauled out a