Scam

her?” he said.
    “Absolutely not,” I said. “I’m a private detective, as you can see.” I held the ID in front of me like a shield. “I have a few questions for the young lady. She’s under absolutely no obligation to answer them unless she sees fit. But if she doesn’t let me ask them, she won’t know what they are.”
    The cabbie jerked his thumb in my direction. “You want me to bust his head?”
    She frowned, looked at me. “What’s this all about?”
    “I’m a private detective. I was hired to find you.” She recoiled slightly. I put up my hand, said, “Not by your parents, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
    “My parents!”
    “No, no. Scratch that. I don’t know your parents, I know nothing about your parents, this has nothing to do with your parents. I’m just saying, if that was your thought, forget it. The fact is, there’s a guy wanted me to find you and ask you some questions. If you happen to know the answers, it might be worth some money to you. No one’s trying to hassle you at all.”
    If I’d won the black cabbie’s heart, you wouldn’t have known it. “You want me to bust his head?” he repeated.
    She put up her hand. “No. Thank you, no.”
    I blinked. Thank you? The mind boggled. Did she really say thank you?
    “Please,” I said. “If you’d be willing to just talk.”
    She pursed her lips. “What’s this all about?”
    I jerked my thumb. “Does a singles bar downtown ring a bell?”
    She thought that over. Cocked her head.
    “Buy me a cup of coffee?”

15.
    “I DON’T WANT YOU TO GET the wrong idea.”
    Hmm. Almost exactly what Sandy the bartender said. I wondered what it was about topless bars that made people afraid other people would get the wrong idea. I also wondered what the right idea was.
    But I merely said, “Oh.” A time-honored private detective interrogative technique.
    “Yeah,” she said. “Just because I work in a place like that. That’s not who I am.”
    “Who are you?”
    She frowned, set her cup of coffee down, and looked out the diner window at the traffic going by on 86th Street. After a moment she turned back, said, almost defiantly, “I’m an actress. That’s what I came to New York for. That’s what I want to be. There’s just too damn many of us. I can’t get any work.”
    “Tell me about it.”
    She looked at me in surprise. “You’re an actor?”
    “I used to be.”
    “Then you know. It’s a killer. I got talent too. I mean, real talent. Legit. I did the classics in school. Shaw. Chekhov. Hell, I’ve done Shakespeare. So the dancing—it’s not me. It’s to pay the rent.”
    “I see.”
    She shook her head. “No, you don’t. You’re looking down your nose, you’re thinking I should wait tables or some such shit. You happen to know what that pays?”
    I didn’t, but it occurred to me it was probably about what I was making.
    Fortunately, a comment was not called for. She forged right ahead. “So, before you’re so quick to judge me, you ought to look at the facts. Ten to one, your apartment’s rent stabilized, you’ve been in it for a while, the rent’s not so bad. But try renting one now. Try living in New York. Try making it as an actor.”
    “Hey, I’m on your side. I know it’s tough.”
    “Yeah, but you still disapprove. And you can’t know. I mean, if you were young and you had a chance to make the money dancing, are you telling me there’s no way you would?”
    The thought No, but I wouldn’t put plastic in my chest either, sprang to mind.
    She read it, averted her eyes. At least I assume she averted her eyes—she was still wearing the dark glasses. “Yeah,” she said. “I know. I had the operation. But I needed the job. So there you are. It is tough. I go for legit auditions, I have to strap myself down.”
    I got the feeling I was hearing a spiel that had been repeated time and time again. I wasn’t unsympathetic. Still …
    “Uh-huh,” I said. “Now, about the singles bar.”
    “Oh, that.”
    “Yeah, that. You know what I’m talking about? Then let’s pin it down. Thursday night. Third Avenue and 65th. You and the walking telephone pole.”
    “Uh-huh.”
    “Well?”
    She cocked her head. “You mentioned something about money?”
    “If you are forthcoming, and tell me what I need to know, there’s a hundred bucks in it for you.”
    “Oh, whoopie gee.”
    “So whaddya expect for ten minutes’ work?”
    “You’d be surprised.” She put up her hand.