Ed McBain - Fiddlers

Then why did someone want her dead? Parker wondered.

Genero said it out loud.

‘Can you think of anyone back then who might have had reason to kill her now? Anyone bearing a grudge, for example?’

Long time to be bearing a grudge,’ Geraldine said, and raised her eyebrows.

‘Lots of nuts out there,’ Parker said.

‘Even so.’

On the bridge, even from this distance, they could hear the rumble of heavy trucks making the river crossing to Isola.

‘Well, you never know, I suppose,’ Geraldine said, thinking.

‘Yes?’ Parker said.

‘But there was this one boy

‘Yes?’

‘… had a terrible crush on her. What was his name again?’

The detectives waited.

‘I remember one night… at Our Lady of Grace… they used to have these Friday night dances at the church, they were very popular, used to draw a big crowd. This boy used to follow Alicia around like a lost puppy, panting at her heels… well, she was really quite beautiful, you know, I can’t say I blamed him, what was his name?

‘Anyway, this one Friday night… they had the dances in this huge recreation hall at the church, you know… well, it seemed huge to me, I was only thirteen. We would sit on these wooden chairs lined up against the wall, waiting for boys to ask us to dance. I have to tell you, nobody in Alicia’s crowd had to wait very long. I don’t want to sound conceited, but we were the most popular girls at Mercer, and later at Harding. The boys flocked around us like bees to honey. That sounds terrible, I know, but it’s true.

‘This one Friday night… this boy who everybody said had tendencies, you know what I mean? Like he, uh, walked light, you know what I mean?’

She was suddenly a teenager again.

And not a very nice one, they realized.

Smiling now, remembering, she told of how this boy with tendencies came walking across the entire long length of this huge recreation hall, and stopped in front of where Alicia and she were laughing at something one of them had just said…

‘She was wearing a yellow dress, I remember, ruffled, short to show off her legs, she had terrific legs, well, listen, she was just a terrific girl…

‘… and he asked her to dance… what was his name, I can’t imagine what’s wrong with my memory these days! Held out his hand to her. “Would you care to dance?” he said, such a wuss. Alicia looked up at him. Ray Charles was on the record player, I remember now. Looked him dead in the eye. Said, “Get lost, faggot.” Which he deserved. I mean, everybody said he was.

‘He just turned and walked away. But you should have seen the look on his face. If looks could kill

Geraldine shook her head.

‘Walked that whole long distance back across the rec hall again, went out the door, and out of the church for all I know. Never followed Alicia around again, you can bet on that. Never. I wonder whatever happened to him. Such a wuss. I can’t even remember his name.’

‘Mrs. Jennings,’ Parker said, ‘ try to remember his name.’

‘Chuck Something?’ she said.

THE DEPARTMENT of Veterans Affairs provided a list of local Vietnam vets who’d served in either D Company (or perhaps B Company, depending on which relative you believed) of the 2nd Brigade of the 25th Infantry Division during Operation Ala Moana. But getting a straight story from any of them wasn’t as easy as Meyer and Carella had hoped.

Some were reluctant to talk about the worst experience they’d ever had in their lives. All of them were remembering events that had taken place close to forty years ago. Obscured by the fog of war, separate encounters took on almost surreal significance…

‘… the jungles in Nau Nghia Province are thick and dense, you never know who’s behind what tree, you can’t tell which trail Charlie has already booby-trapped…”

‘… Max Sobolov, yeah, he was our sergeant. And it was D Company, D for Dog, not B, you got that wrong …”

‘This was only thirty miles northwest of Saigon, but you’d think you were in the heart of Africa someplace…’

‘… something to do with a Vietnamese woman, Sobolov and this kid in his squad. They were taking her back for questioning…’

‘… the stuff was stashed in this village, these huts they had, you know? Buried in these huts. AT mines, and rice, and sugar, and pickled fish, all therefor Charlie to use whenever he dropped in…’

* * * *

Mark was in his room watching television when Teddy walked in on him at four o’clock that Monday afternoon. April was at a sleepover; Teddy felt perfectly safe talking to her son. She went immediately to the television set, turned it off, stood in front of the screen facing him, and began signing at once, as if she’d been preparing for this a long while, the words tumbling from her hands in a rush.

Your father and I have been talking, she signed. You have to tell us what’s going on.

‘Nothing, Mom.’

Then why’d you burst into tears on the way home from practice yesterday?

‘It’s just that April and I aren’t as close anymore,’ he said, ‘that’s all. Mom, really, it’s nothing.’

Then why couldn’t you just tell that to Dad?

‘April and I need to work it out for ourselves,’ Mark said, and shrugged. ‘Kids, you know?’ he said, and tried a lame smile.

Teddy looked him dead in the eye.

There’s something you’re not telling us, she signed. What is it, Mark?

‘Nothing.’

Has her friend stolen something else?

‘No. I don’t know. April hasn’t said anything about…”

Because if that girl is a thief…

‘It isn’t that, Mom.’

Then what the hell is it, Mark! Teddy signed, her eyes blazing, her fingers flying. Tell me right this minute!

Mark hesitated.

M-a-a-rk, she signed, her hands stretching the simple word into a warning.

‘They were doing pot,’ he said.

Who?

Eyes and fingers snapping.

‘Lorraine and the older boys.’

Where?

‘At the party last Tuesday. Some of the other girls, too.’

April? Teddy asked at once.

‘I don’t know. They were all in Lorraine’s bedroom. The door was locked.’

Was April in there with them?

Again, he hesitated.

Was she?

‘Yes, Mom.’

Are you sure about this, Mark?

‘I know what it smells like, Mom.’

Teddy nodded.

Thanks, son, she signed.

‘Did I just get her in trouble again?’ Mark asked.

No , you just got her out of it, Teddy signed, and hugged her son close, and kissed the top of his head.

Then she went directly into her own bedroom, and opened her laptop there, and immediately e-mailed her husband at work.

* * * *

‘Patricia?’

‘Hey, hi, Oll!’

‘How you doing?’

‘Great. I just got home a few minutes ago. Whussup?’

‘I’ve been doing some thinking. You know, it’s been frantic here, these Glock Murders…”

‘Oh, I’ll bet.’

‘So I thought… let me try this on you… I may not have the time to go shopping for the kind of dinner I’d like to make for you this Saturday…”

‘Oh sure, Oil. You want to make it some other night?’

‘Well, not exactly. I thought if you could come over here for brunch Sunday morning… instead of dinner the night before… it would be a lot simpler. I could make pancakes for us…”