Эд Макбейн: Hail, Hail, the Gang’s All Here

“Do you live here?”

“No.”

“Where do you live?”

“In Riverhead.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Waiting for Bobby. He’s a friend of mine.”

“When did he go out?”

“I don’t know.”

“How’d you get in here?”

“I have a key.”

“Mind if we come in and wait with you?”

“I don’t care,” she said, and shrugged. “If you want to come in, come in.” She stood aside. She was still very frightened. As they entered, she looked past them into the hallway, as if anxious for Hamling to appear and wishing it would be damn soon. Willis caught this, though Genero did not. She closed the door behind them, and together they went into a room furnished with several battered easy chairs, a foam rubber sofa, and a low, slatted coffee table. “Well, sit down,” she said.

The detectives sat on the sofa. Sonia took one of the chairs opposite them.

“How well do you know Robert Hamling?” Willis asked.

“Pretty well.”

“When did you see him last?”

“Oh...” she said, and shrugged, and seemed to be thinking it over.

“Yes?”

“Well, what difference does it make?”

“It might make a difference.”

“Last week sometime, I guess.”

“ When last week?”

“Well, why don’t you ask Bobby when he gets here?”

“We will,” Genero said. “Meantime, we’re asking you. When did you see him last?”

“I don’t remember,” Sonia said.

“Do you know anybody named Lewis Scott?” Willis asked.

“No.”

“Ever hear of a clothing store called The Monkey Wrench?”

“Yes, I think so.”

“Ever buy any clothes there?”

“I don’t remember.”

“Ever buy a black silk blouse there?” Genero asked.

“I don’t remember.”

“Show her the blouse, Dick,” Willis said.

Genero produced the manila envelope again. He took the blouse from it and handed it to the girl. “This yours?” he asked.

“I don’t know.”

“Yes or no?” Genero said.

“It could be, I can’t tell for sure. I have a lot of clothes.”

“Do you have a lot of black silk blouses bought at a store called The Monkey Wrench?”

“Well, no, but a person could get confused about her clothes. I mean, it’s a black silk blouse, it could be any black silk blouse. How do I know it’s mine?”

“What size blouse do you take?”

“Thirty-four.”

“This is a thirty-four,” Willis said.

“That still doesn’t make it mine, does it?” Sonia asked.

“Were you here in Isola last night?” Willis asked.

“Well, yes.”

“Where?”

“Oh, banking around.”

“Where?”

“Here and there.”

“Here and there where? ”

“You don’t have to answer him, Sonia,” a voice from the doorway said, and both detectives turned simultaneously. The boy standing there was about eighteen, with long blond hair and a handlebar mustache. He had on blue jeans and a blue corduroy shirt, over which he wore an open coat with white fur showing on the inside.

“Mr. Hamling, I presume,” Willis said.

“That’s me,” Hamling said. He turned to close the entrance door. A bright-orange, radiating sun was painted on the back of the coat.

“We’ve been looking for you,” Willis said.

“So now you found me,” Hamling said. “This is about Lew, isn’t it?”

“You tell us, ” Genero said.

“Sure, it’s about Lew,” Hamling said. “I figured you’d get to me sooner or later.”

“What about him?”

“He jumped out the window last night.”

“Were you there when he jumped?”

“We were both there,” Hamling said, and glanced at the girl. The girl nodded.

“Want to tell us what happened?”

“He was on a bum trip,” Hamling said. “He thought he could fly. I tried to hold him down, but he ran for the window and jumped out. End of story.”

“Why didn’t you report this to the police?”

“What for? I’ve got long hair.”

Willis sighed. “Well,” he said, “we’re here now, so why don’t you just tell us everything that happened, and we’ll file the damn report and close out the case.”

Genero looked at him. Willis was taking out his pad. “Want to tell me what time you went over there?”

“It must’ve been about four-thirty or so. Look,” Hamling said, “am I gonna get in any trouble on this?”

“Why should you? If Scott jumped out the window, that’s suicide, plain and simple.”

“Yeah, well he did.”

“Okay, so help us close it out, will you? This is a headache for us, too,” Willis said, and again Genero looked at him. “What happened when you got there?”

“Why do I have to be in it, that’s all I want to know?” Hamling said.

“Well, you were in it, weren’t you?”

“Yeah, but...”

“So what are we supposed to do? Make believe you weren’t there? Come on, give us a break. Nobody’s trying to get you in trouble. You know how many acid freaks jump out the window every day of the week?”

“I just don’t want it to get in the papers or anything,” Hamling said. “That’s why I didn’t call you in the first place.”

“We realize that,” Willis said. “We’ll do everything we can to protect you. Just give us the information we need to get a report typed up, that’s all.”

“Well, okay,” Hamling said reluctantly.

“So what happened? Did all three of you go up there together, or what?” Willis said.

“No, I ran into him on the street,” Hamling said. “I was alone at the time. I called Sonia up later, and she came over.”

Willis was writing on the pad. Genero was still watching him. Genero had the strangest feeling that something was going on, but he didn’t know quite what. He also had the feeling that he was about to learn something. He was both confused and somewhat exhilarated. He kept his mouth shut and simply watched and listened. “All right,” Willis said, “you ran into this friend of yours and—”

“No, no, he wasn’t a friend of mine,” Hamling said.

“You didn’t know him?”

“No, I just ran into him in this coffee joint, and we began talking, you know? So he asked me if I wanted to come up to his place and hear some records, you know, and... Listen, can I get in trouble if I really level with you guys?”

“I’d appreciate it if you would,” Willis said.

“Well, he said he had some good stuff and maybe we could have a smoke. That’s all I thought it was at the time. Just a smoke, you see. I mean, if I’d known the guy had acid in his apartment—”

“You didn’t know that at the time?”

“No, hell no. I usually try to stay away from these plastic hippies, anyway, they’re usually a lot of trouble.”

“How do you mean, trouble?”

“Oh, you know, they’re trying to show off all the time, trying to be something they really aren’t. Weekend hippies, plastic hippies, same damn thing. None of them are really making the scene, they’re only pretending to make it.”

“How about you?”

“I consider myself genuine,” Hamling said with dignity.

“How about Sonia?”

“Well, she’s sort of a weekend hippie,” Hamling said, “but she’s also a very groovy chick, so I put up with her.” He smiled broadly. Sonia did not smile back. She was still frightened. Her hands were clasped in her lap, and she kept shifting her eyes from Willis to Hamling as though knowing that a dangerous game was being played, and wanting desperately to be elsewhere. Genero sensed this, and also sensed in his inexperienced, newly promoted way that the girl was Willis’s real prey and that it would only be a matter of time before he sprang for her jugular. The girl knew this, too. Hamling seemed to be the only person in the room who did not know it. Supremely confident of himself, he plunged on.