Death Notes

I passed my card out to each of them and asked them to call if they thought of anything. I knew I’d probably never hear from any of them, but somebody might surprise me and call. Stranger things had happened.
    ‘Not a real friendly bunch,’ I said to Clark as we made our way back to the bar. A new band was just starting up on stage.
    ‘They were counting on work for the month, it seems.’ Clark sounded disappointed.
    ‘They were counting on Match, too.’
    I glanced back at them over my shoulder.
    ‘Sharon said Dickie’s the one who got your father back into music. Is that true?’
    Clark shrugged. ‘That’s what Dad told me. He said Dickie had enough enthusiasm for both of them.’
    ‘Any idea why the rest of the band don’t like Dickie?’
    ‘What makes you think they don’t?’
    To me, it had been obvious. He didn’t fit in with them, either because he didn’t want to or because they didn’t want him to, I couldn’t tell which. But I was sure he wasn’t one of them. And because of that, maybe, if I got him alone, I could get him to talk.
     

30
     
    C lark Margolis wandered off into the crowd and left me at the bar. I looked around for Blackie and saw he was still making time with the black-haired conchita. She was acting like every other woman acted around Blackie. She was all over him, trying to keep the other women - who were drawn to him like a magnet - away. She wasn’t having much luck. I gave him the high sign, then went to pay my respects to the widow.
    I didn’t get much of a hello out of her. Before I could bring up the bad check or ask her why she’d fingered me to Clark, she grabbed my arm and hissed at me.
    ‘We can’t talk here, honey. The reporters !’
    I didn’t care about the reporters and told her as much. ‘Your timing’s real bad, honey.’
    I smiled. ‘I know.’
    She gave me an exasperated look, then said, ‘Oh, all right. We can talk in the ladies.’
    Sharon’s tight, black satin miniskirt rode up when she walked, so every few steps she’d have to smooth it back down with a leopard-spotted-bangled hand. Her shoes and earrings matched the bracelet, but otherwise, she was done up all in black. She put off a couple of reporters on her way to the john - mostly, I figured, because she knew I was right behind her.
    Once inside, Sharon checked both stalls to make sure they were empty, braced her back against the door to keep everybody else out, then said, ‘What’s going on here, honey? Are you trying to wreck my deals?’
    It was an accusation, but all I could think was, So whatl I pulled the bad check out of my back pocket and handed it to her.
    ‘I want cash.’
    She didn’t even glance down to see what I’d given her. She knew.
    ‘Oh, honey, I’m so sorry. I realized the minute you walked out the door, but I just couldn’t get to the phone. That’s the wrong account. I’m so sorry, honey. This whole thing’s got me so turned around, I don’t know what I’m doing half the time. I goofed. Let me write you another one.’
    She whipped a checkbook out of her purse and held it up for me to see.
    ‘This one’s the mother lode.’
    ‘I don’t want another check. I want cash, Sharon. The job’s done. I want the whole payment in cash.’
    ‘Sure, honey, sure. I’ll take care of it. I’ll go down to the bank first thing and get it for you. I—’
    ‘I’ll meet you at the bank at ten.’
    ‘Anything you say, honey. Just, please, please don’t talk to me anymore out there. I can’t—’
    ‘I know,’ I said, not keeping the disgust out of my voice. 'The reporters.’
    She mustered a smarmy smile. ‘Thanks, honey. You’re a princess.’
    She put her hand on the door, but I stuck my foot out and jammed it shut.
    ‘There’s more, Sharon. I want to know why you told Clark that Match whispered his killer’s name in my ear.’
    ‘Did Clark tell you that, honey? He’s lying. I never said anything like that. Besides, I heard it from the bartender. But I never told Clark. We didn’t hardly speak that night.’
    I couldn’t be surprised. I was way past realizing that Sharon’s reality was eminently relative to her interests. But I didn’t want to give up. Not yet. She wanted out so she could schmooze with the reporters. Motivation, sometimes, is everything. I pressed her again.
    ‘I want to know about this insurance policy on Match." ‘Who told you about that?’
    ‘Mr Teagues happened to bring it up.’
    She scowled. ‘Buddha. Listen to