Ed Gorman - Save The Last Dance For Me

“You’re forgetting something, Cliffie,” I said.

“What?”

“She’s the judge with jurisdiction in this case.” I pointed to the Judge.

“Yeah? Big deal.”

“It is a big deal, Cliffie,” I said.

“She can set bail.”

“And I’m setting bail right now,” the Judge interjected. “Ten dollars.”

“That’s crazy! Nobody sets a ten-dollar bail in a murder case.”

“I do,” Judge Whitney said.

“I’m gonna file a motion,” he said.

“What sort of motion?” I said.

“To the state Supreme Court.”

Actually, they’d probably not only hear his motion but also agree with him that a ten-dollar bail was ridiculous.

“Do you have a fin on you?” Judge Whitney said. Sometimes, she tries to sound like Barbara Stanwyck.

“I think you mean a sawbuck.”

“A sawbuck. Do you have one?”

I nodded and got out my wallet. Have you ever noticed how rich people never seem to carry cash?

Could that possibly account for how they got rich in the first place?

I slapped it down on Cliffie’s desk.

“I hereby grant this bail,” Judge

Whitney said. “Now go get Sara.”

“You gotta fill out forms.”

“You’ll have your forms in the morning. Now go get Sara.”

“Stash!”

Stash was the night deputy.

“Why’d you arrest her, Cliffie?” I said.

“Don’t call me Cliffie or I’ll arrest you.”

“You didn’t have anything on her.”

“The hell I didn’t.”

“Oh? Like what?”

“Like a tip to look in her garage. And guess what I found there?”

Stash, a guy with a ducktail haircut that was greasier than Jerry Lee Lewis’, peeked in and said, “Uh-huh.”

“Stash, go get the Hall broad and bring her here.”

He finger-popped Cliffie and said, “Gotcha, Chief.”

“The Hall broad,” the Judge said under her breath.

“So what did you find?” I asked after Stash and his very loud heel-clips disappeared to the back and the jail.

“I found a can of strychnine just where the caller said it would be.”

“Was the caller a man or woman?”

“I don’t have to tell you squat.”

“Man or woman, Cliffie?”

He grinned. “Well, it was one or the other.”

“Moronic,” the Judge said.

“No, we used that word already.”

“Mediocre, then.”

I smiled. “That’s almost a compliment for somebody like Cliffie.”

Stash and his heel clips were back. A disheveled Sara Hall fell into the arms of her friend the Judge and the Judge, without once looking back at Cliffie or saying good-bye to me, left with Sara in tow. On the other side of the door, Sara glanced back at me and I knew then that she knew I’d broken my word to her and told the Judge about Dierdre’s pregnancy.

It wasn’t a hateful glance, just a weary one.

I’d betrayed her and she’d never trust me again.

I suppose in the cosmic scheme of things it didn’t matter a whole hell of a lot. But I certainly felt ashamed of myself, and sad that she’d never again count me as a friend.

“Ten dollars,” Cliffie said. “I can’t believe it.”

“Hell, Cliffie,” I said, watching him again, “she could’ve made it five.”

A weeping Dierdre was led into the long dining room ten minutes after we arrived at Judge Whitney’s. The Judge ordered breakfast for everybody and then we all sat down with cigarettes and coffee-the Judge, of course, drinking brandy-fffigure out exactly what to do next.

“Was it your rat strychnine he found?” I asked Sara.

“I’d never seen it before.”

“Did he present you with a search warrant?”

“Yes.”

“Where were you while all this was going on?” I asked Dierdre.

“Being sick,” she said. “I’m still sick.”

She touched her stomach. “The baby.”

“Did Cliffie dust for fingerprints?”

“Not that I saw. He came to the front door and pounded and pounded till I woke up. He left his emergency lights on. Which woke up all the neighbors, of course. It was very embarrassing.”

“So then he led you out to the garage?”

“Yes. Then he started looking around.”

“And he found the poison.”

She nodded. Then: “I’m picturing it now.

He just picked it up. He couldn’t have looked for fingerprints.”

“Good old Cliffie.”

The staff didn’t look all that happy about being awakened in the middle of the night to feed us. I was thinking I’d have to train my inherited cats to cook. Then any time I wanted something to eat-We ate and didn’t talk much while we did so. I had scrambled eggs, toast, orange juice, and more coffee. I felt vaguely entitled to renew my membership in the human race. I still needed a shave and a shower but the food was doing wondrous things for my brain and attitude.

“Did you ever threaten to kill Muldaur?” I said when we got rolling again.

“No.”

“Did you ever threaten to kill Courtney?”

“Several times.”

“Did anybody hear you?”

“His wife. And probably the housekeeper.”

“His wife? Did she say anything to you?”

Sara Hall hesitated. “I’m trying to remember. She’d had to hear us arguing. I heard steps on the floor outside the door. A dead spot in the wood. You know how older houses are. I got the impression she was listening.”

“So she may have heard everything you said about Dierdre?”

“Yes.”

Even though I’d gone over this with Mrs.

Courtney, hearing it from Sara gave it all more emotion. What kind of impact would it have on a woman when she first learned that her husband had gotten a teenage girl pregnant? And him a minister, no less.

“Did you see anybody around your yard lately? Any strange faces?”

“No,” she said. “Honey?”

Dierdre was barely hanging on. Any moment now she’d be racing to the john again. “No. But then I wouldn’t have noticed, anyway, Mom. I’ve been too busy puking.”

“There’s no reason to talk that way at a dinner table,” the Judge said.

“She was only kidding, Esme,” Sara said.

“Nonetheless.”

And Dierdre was off again. To the bathroom.

I was writing some things down in my notebook when Sara said, “I just thought of something.”

“What?”

“I was in the backyard taking laundry down from the line-th was right at dusk-when I noticed this truck down the alley.”

“What kind of truck?”

She described it.

“It looked familiar for some reason,” she said.

“You remember when this was?”

“I’m not sure but I think it was the day after Courtney was killed.”

The truck was duly noted in my notebook.

It belonged to Muldaur. I decided not to say anything for now.

“You see anybody in it?”

“No.”

“Around it?”

“Not that-no, not that I can think of.”

“How long was it there?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t really think anything of it. I just took the wash and went back inside.”

There was more. Lots more, in fact. But nothing useful. I had another piece of toast and another cup of coffee; Dierdre got sick again; the staff, eager to get back to sleep so they’d catch at least a few hours of blissful rest, began making an awful lot of noise to convey their displeasure with us. The Judge returned their glares but this time of night, they were willing to stand up to her. They weren’t intimidated.

Sara and Dierdre stayed there for the night.

The Judge walked me outside. It was that thrilling time of night, just before dawn as all the mysteries of evening begin to vanish and day, reluctantly, begins to reassert itself.

It was actually chilly and it felt good.