Carolyn Banks - The New Black Mask (№6)

I wondered what other surprises were upcoming, but I didn’t bother to ask because Arnie was no more into full disclosure than I was.

“Let’s go, Bruno,” I said. We did, in one of those black limousines Arnie was so fond of. Bruno drove me out Claiborne Avenue to an Army and Navy Store that’s been there as long as I can remember. A retired first shirt from maybe the War of 1812 runs it.

Fortunately, I was wearing black shoes. While Bruno inspected camping equipment, I bought a shirt and pants in blue cotton wash material and a web belt. I didn’t need a cap. The owner was pretty bored till I started sorting through the samples of military decorations.

“You got authorization for those things, Mac?”

Bruno joined us. The owner shut up when Bruno started making speech. “Why you buying all this war surplus, Frisbee?”

“Looey vanished from the air base. That’s where I start looking. I want to fit in.” I turned back to the ancient clerk.

“I want one of those, one of those, and that neat red one with the white stripes.” I’d pointed out ribbons for the Distinguished Flying Cross, the Air Medal, and the Good Conduct badge. The clerk gave me a sour look and said he’d run them up in the back room.

I put on the shirt and pants and inspected electronic gear that was sold by the pound while Schmettler went back to the camping equipment. The clerk returned ten minutes later, in a dead heat with a couple of air police, a sergeant and a corporal.

“This the guy trying to impersonate a hero?” the sergeant said, as much to me as anybody.

When Schmettler came up to see what was going on, the APs undid the flaps of their holsters.

“Who’s this guy?” the sergeant wanted to know.

“You may well ask,” I told him.

But the sergeant didn’t like my answers when he asked for leave papers and dog tags. Then he noted I wore no cap and consequently was out of uniform. Without any further ado, they shoved me ungently into the air police jeep and away we went. Schmettler pursued us in the black limo and only broke off at the main gate. In the provost marshal’s office, I was cooperative but not too talky. They had about decided to nail me for impersonation until the provost asked if I had a serial number.

When I gave it to him, they took my fingerprints. That was the end of due process. They decided the stockade was where I belonged. I spent the remainder of the afternoon sitting on a bare mattress waiting for chow.

It wasn’t jambalaya, and the only exotic sauces offered were catsup and mustard, but it was plentiful, whatever it was. The armed forces have changed since my day. They seem to be accepting Boy Scouts, even though some of the young men looked as if their camp-out had been rained on.

Except for me, only one of the men in the dining hall was over thirty. He filled one side of a mess table all by himself, something like a basking sea lion. The food hadn’t struck me as all that remarkable, but he was shoveling it in as if Julia Child did the catering. Unlike the other diners, he seemed happy. I took my tray over to join him.

“Looey,” I said, “Arnie Buttons wants to know where you are.”

He didn’t stop chewing. “Thass tough,” he said. “They frisked you, so get lost, shortie.”

“I’m not going to be here long,” I told him. “I got in by making them think I was AWOL. When I get out tomorrow, people will be coming to see you. He’s putting up a lot of money to lower your shades.”

Looey finished his tray and looked at mine as he continued to chew. I passed it over and took a medicinal sip of something similar to coffee as he vacuumed up my supper.

“Whass he got on you?” he asked. “You’re Frisbee, state attorney’s office, right?”

I confessed my career change and my new assignment.

“A broad as hostage? Arnie’s good at that. Well, like I always say, win some, lose some. Take me. They say I got something germinal. Six weeks or six months at the best to go. I can’t remember which, so thass bad. But I been on a diet all my life. Now I eat as much as I want, no worries about hypertension or nothing. Arnie pro’ly can’t tag me here, and all my tapes and depositions are going to stick it in his ear good. I go, and he follows. On the whole, thass good. You tell him for me.”

I wondered how Arnie was going to take the news that modern medical science was going to achieve what he couldn’t.

“Looey,” I said, preparing to become persuasive, “Arnie tells me you’re the only witness left. The others are missing or forgetful. They’ll put you in a civilian hospital at the end. Then Arnie will do his number on your deathbed. After all, he found you here.”

Looey’s eyes were tiny slits in his enormous face. “I got this plan. I hit four hundred pounds, real sick, they won’t move me out of here because they can’t. In the meantime, I catch television and eat and think about Arnie sweating. Too bad about your broad.”

In a lot of ways, Looey Flowers resembled a sea slug. The only place he was vulnerable was in his hatred of Arnie. Just as he was telling me he was maybe ninety percent sure his evidence would send Arnie down, I interrupted.

“I can make it one hundred percent.”

He stopped eating to ask how.

My fingerprints came back from Washington the next morning. The provost marshal was pretty vexed when he discovered I hadn’t been a member of the armed forces for some time. He felt better when he saw I had a right to the decorations. I said I was free-lancing what would be a very positive article about the efficiency of the local military police. Then I made a careful note of the way he spelled his name.

Arnie, on the other hand, wanted to be sure I knew he was mad. “You weren’t supposed to lose Schmettler!”

“He lost me. He didn’t want to go off with the air police. I did find Looey, though.”

Arnie’s sudden laugh wasn’t reassuring, and neither was the golf bag in the back seat, large, with many zippered compartments. He handed me a briefcase that was indeed full of dirty money — old bills, all tens and twenties. I didn’t like thinking where they came from.

“Now, let’s go see Looey,” he said, a tic jumping around his face.

“First, the call to Glendora,” I told him. “Just to make sure, I’ll use the pay phone on the corner.”

Arnie shook his head no. Schmettler put his hand on my shoulder like a jail door slamming while Arnie explained.

“You call from the phone in the car, and I listen to every word. You’re supposed to be tricky, and I’m taking no chances.”

The black limousine was parked in a tow-away zone, but no tickets fluttered under the windshield wipers. I got in back while Schmettler locked all the interior doors from the driver’s seat. The locks were child- and people-proof, which was not reassuring. Schmettler started up and Arnie handed over the phone. “No tricks, Frisbee.”

“I found Looey and I’ve played all my tricks already,” I said. Glendora came on immediately, and I felt better. I was sure she’d set up a phone trace. I can always count on her to show initiative.

“I found him, right where I thought he’d be,” I said.

“And I’m still here,” she said coolly. I had a sudden feeling something was very wrong. Arnie was connected everywhere, maybe even in the YWCA.

“What was I going to fix for supper last night?” I asked. If anything wasn’t right, she’d give me a wrong answer.

“Jambalaya,” she said and broke the connection.

Arnie inspected his fingernails. “We told her to hang up quick because you might have some idea of having the call traced. You’re playing in the traffic again, Frisbee. You took dirty money to finger Looey Flowers. Where is he?”