Dave Zeltserman - Fast Lane

Max must have wanted to tell me to go to hell. But what if I were on the level? With our new arrangement he’d end up making only fifty percent on the hundred and sixty dollar fee. So he would end up a good eighty dollars worse off than before. And, even if he were able to get them as permanent clients, you just don’t want that type of work. Worse for your health than smoking. If he took the job and I weren’t on the level then I would be giving him the royal horselaugh. But if I were on the level-then maybe next time . . . .

It was a hell of a choice to make. And I could tell by his face that he wasn’t having a good time with it. The color slowly came back, mottling his cheeks.

He shrugged without much enthusiasm. “I guess it’s only fair and it’s better than nothing. Sure, why not?”

I gave him the information and after he left I gave him the royal horselaugh. Silently. Deep in the gut. You see, I’m the type of guy who would give anyone in the world the shirt off my back. I’d do it without expecting a thing in return except being treated fairly.

I don’t see that as expecting anything more than what’s right. And if someone is going to try to give me a hard time, he’d better cover himself because I’m going to stick it right back at him. In spades. And-

And the phone rang. It was Mary.

“I was going to call you,” I said. “Why were you in such a hurry this morning?”

“It was better that way.”

“Now, honey. What’s wrong?”

“Why should anything be wrong?”

“Well,” I sighed. “There isn’t any reason I can think of. Why don’t you tell me what’s bothering you.”

There was a long silence. Then, “Who was at your door last night?”

“No one. I’ve already told you that.”

“Who’s Margo?”

“Ahh, Mary,” I groaned. I wanted to kick Marge for leaving that letter. “She’s someone who doesn’t matter. Trust me.”

“Something that does matter. That man isn’t my father.”

I didn’t know what to say. She broke the silence by telling me she wanted to see me.

She didn’t want to come to my office. I tried asking her why, but she wouldn’t say. We arranged to meet at a diner a couple of blocks away.

* * * * *

Mary sat at the table as rigid as a three-day-old corpse.

I reached for her hand. She pulled it away.

“Mary,” I said, “I’m a little confused about what’s happening. Why’d you leave this morning without saying a word?”

Her eyes blazed, and if there had been an open can of gasoline sitting on the table we both would’ve been cooked.

“What difference does it make?”

“What differ-” I said, shaking my head. “Mary, I care about you.”

“I don’t care about you!” The four-alarm blaze going on in her eyes flared and then flickered out, leaving her looking a little pale around the gills. “Anyway, you don’t really care,” she added. “If you did, you’d have been with me last night.”

I asked, incredulously, “Where do you think I was?”

“You weren’t with me. Not really. While we were making-having sex, you were thinking of her.”

“Mary, I-” I stumbled a little, tongue-tied. “That’s just not so. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, you do. But that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about. That man isn’t my father. My real father would never have tried to do that to me.”

“I know it’s unpleasant, but these things happen.”

“No!” she said, shaking her head, as if that would settle the issue. “I want you to tell me why you thought he was my father. Because he isn’t!”

Before getting Mary’s phone call, I was hungry enough to empty a refrigerator. Now though, I wasn’t sure if my stomach could even hold down a cup of coffee. When the waitress came over, I ordered the coffee anyway, and as she walked away, I heard her muttering something about big spenders.

“Like I already told you,” I said, after the waitress was out of earshot, “after your mother died you were given up for adoption. I dug around and found out who her boyfriend was. And he-Jerry Bry-admitted he was your father. He also confirmed you were given to an Oklahoma City adoption agency, and that the Williamses ended up adopting-”

“Did you show him my picture?”

“What?” I asked, puzzled.

“Did you show him my picture before you started asking him questions?”

“Well, I guess I did.” I saw where she was heading and I almost laughed, it was so farfetched. I played along, though. “I don’t understand-”

“Don’t you see?” she cut in. “He saw what I looked like before he told you anything.”

“I still don’t see what you’re getting at,” I mumbled, scratching my head.

“Johnny, he’s a pervert!” she shouted, almost jumping out of her seat. “He was lying to you. Don’t you see that?”

I let my mouth drop open.

“What do you know,” I murmured. As I’d already said, once Mary made her mind up about something, that was it. As crazy as it was, I had no choice but to go along with her. It’s funny, though. This probably would be the kind of stunt Bry would pull if given the opportunity. Quietly, I swore to myself I’d keep my promise about his neck, first chance I got.

“So he was just lying to me,” I said, as if I was in a daze.

“Yes!” Mary practically shouted at me, her eyes shining like diamonds. “He’s sick. He probably figured he’d get me alone, and that I’d have confused feelings about him, and he’d be able to take advantage-”

Anger flashed through her, choking her words. Since there was nothing else for me to do but agree with her, that’s what I did. “That’d be a hell of a thing to do,” I said, nodding. “But it would explain things.”

“Don’t you see what it means?” she asked. “The only reason you were sure that woman was my mother was because of what he’d told you. But if he was lying, then you still haven’t found her. She might still be alive.”

I could’ve kicked myself for not giving her a better story. “Yeah,” I nodded. “It’s possible. He might have been telling the truth, though.”

“No, my real mother’s alive. I can feel it. Trust me, Johnny.”

Well, what could I say? I told her I trusted her. “Mary,” I asked, “have you thought about filing attempted rape charges against him?”

“I thought about it, but I’m not going to.”

I shook my head. “Maybe you should. I can take you down to the police station.”

“No!” she insisted. “I just want to forget about him. Besides, I don’t want my parents finding out about it.”

Of course I didn’t want her filing charges, either-I couldn’t afford to let her-but I needed to know what she was planning.

“Yeah, well, if that’s the way you feel. Probably best just to forget about it,” I agreed. “So you haven’t told your parents about this?”

“No, I’ve already hurt them enough with this.”

“Did you tell anyone else about Jerry Bry?” I asked.

“No.” She gave me an odd look, like the other time in my office. “Why?”

It was a damn good question, one which I didn’t want to admit the answer to. “I feel a little ashamed about making such a dumb-assed mistake. I’m awful sorry about it.”

“I guess it’s understandable.” She lowered her eyes, hesitating. “Johnny, I think I should find another detective.”

The waitress came back with my coffee and kind of dumped it down with disgust. I took a sip, burning my mouth. “I sure wish you wouldn’t do that,” I said, trying my damndest to keep from smashing the coffee cup against the wall.

“It’s best that I do. We haven’t had much luck together.”