George Martin - Lowball

But now it was starting again. As Eddie stared at the spot on the floor where he’d dismissed the easygoing Gulloon, he wondered what Mister Nice Guy or LaVerne VaVoom might get up to if he couldn’t keep control of them.

For that matter, what if they’d already gotten up to something? He didn’t always remember his dreams.

He spent the rest of that night staring at the ceiling and worrying.

“Morning, Eddie,” Beastie said, strolling up to the station house door. It was exactly eight in the morning and Eddie had been nervously shifting from foot to foot on the sidewalk for twenty minutes. If he’d been built for pacing, that’s what he would have been doing. “So Lupo convinced Franny to call you in again?”

Eddie took off his hat to get a better look at Beastie’s face. “No, I’m-I’m here as a concerned citizen. I was wondering if there had been any other sightings in the, uh, the monkey-faced Peeping Tom case.”

Beastie shrugged. “Haven’t heard of any such thing.”

That was a relief, but something else Beastie had said nagged at Eddie’s mind. “Wait, what was that about Lupo?”

Beastie rolled his eyes. “He’s been in here every damn day, hoping for some kind of protection, but after a while he figured out that wasn’t going to happen. Now he’s telling anyone who will sit still that he’s remembered more details about the snatchers and demanding another session with the sketch artist. Some of us are starting to wonder if he really saw anything in the first place.”

Eddie considered the question. “I think he really did. He was a little fuzzy on the details, but I don’t think he was making it up or hallucinating.”

A rough, growling voice interrupted the conversation. “Oh, thank God you’re here!” Eddie looked up to see Lupo running down the sidewalk toward him. Beastie spread his hands in a see what I mean? gesture. “I mean that, Eddie,” Lupo panted as he came to an unsteady halt, hands on knees, before the station house steps. “I literally thank my Higher Power that you are here. I was beginning to think no one was listening to me.”

Eddie shook his head. “I’m not here because I got called back for you. I don’t think I’ve ever gotten called back on the same case. Memories fade with time. You have to get them when they’re fresh.”

“This is fresh, Eddie. I saw him again! The fourth snatcher!”

Eddie and Beastie looked at each other. “When?” Eddie asked.

“Just this morning.”

“Really?” Beastie asked, not quite condescendingly. “The timing is awfully convenient.”

Lupo raised a hand. “Swear to God.” The raised palm was scrubbed and pink, though lines of dirt remained ground into its creases. “I saw him on Bond Street, just around the corner from my hotel.” The whites showed all around his eyes. “They’re looking for me, Eddie! They know I saw them, and now they’re going to snatch me too!”

Beastie didn’t seem convinced. “You’re absolutely sure it was him?”

“Look, I know I haven’t always been the most reliable witness. But my mind is much clearer now. I haven’t touched a drop in two days.” Lupo crouched down, bringing his head to Eddie’s eye level. “You gotta give me another shot, Eddie.”

“It’s not my decision.” Eddie looked to Beastie. “But for what it’s worth … I believe him.”

Lupo’s heavy, lupine head swiveled between Eddie and Beastie. “I can give you a good description of the fourth snatcher now. Please.” His big brown eyes were impossibly sad and soulful. “Please?”

Beastie sighed. “I’ll pass the information up the line.”

Lupo and Eddie sat on a hard bench outside the wardroom door while Beastie went in to talk with Franny. This wasn’t exactly how Eddie had planned to spend the morning, but if he could get another few hours of composite sketch work out of it he wouldn’t turn the money down. Anyway, pulling himself away from the desperate, pleading wolf-man would have seemed rude.

“I’m a new man, Eddie, I swear. You’ll see. I was all messed up last time.”

Eddie had to admit that Lupo was not only cleaner, he seemed more alert. And his voice, though still sounding a bit odd because of the shape of his mouth, wasn’t at all slurred. “You’re really serious about this.”

“I’ve never been more serious in my life. There’s nothing like the fear of getting snatched to make a man sit up and take notice of what’s going on around him.” He sighed. “Or what’s going on inside him. I’ve made a mess of my life, I admit it. Maybe this is the wake-up call I’ve needed. I hope it isn’t too late.”

“It’s never too late,” Eddie said, though Lupo looked to be sixty or seventy … not an easy time of life to make a fresh start. “Even for people like us.”

“People like us?”

Eddie winced, sure he’d crossed a line. Not even jokers liked to be equated with an ugly lump of flesh like him. “Sorry…”

“No, no, I’m not insulted. Just surprised to hear you say it. You’re an artist, a professional … I figured you for an East Village type, not a J-town boy like me.”

At that Eddie snorted. “Hardly. I live in an efficiency about a mile from here. Heart of Jokertown.”

“No shit? Why haven’t I seen you around the neighborhood?”

“I don’t get out much.” Not in person, anyway . Eddie cleared his throat. “I hear things, though. Rumors. Some kind of monkey-faced Peeping Tom, looking in windows at night. Maybe a whole gang of Peeping Toms. Have you heard about anything like that?”

“Not lately.” Lupo’s lip drew back, exposing yellowed fangs. “But two years ago … I was staying at my sister’s place, and she came screaming out of her bedroom saying that some big-eared little bastard was on her fire escape watching her undress. I couldn’t get the window open, but I got a look at the guy before he escaped.” His hairy hands balled into fists. “I might be a joker, I might be an alcoholic, I might even have sold a few things that didn’t exactly belong to me, but I’d never stoop that low. If I ever catch that little asshole…” He smacked a fist into the opposite hand, and Eddie realized there was still some serious muscle under the ex-bartender’s fat. “He’ll be sorry.”

Eddie was ashamed to admit that he had no idea which of the many women he’d peeped in on had been Lupo’s sister. The incident didn’t stand out from so many similar ones in his memory. “Sorry to hear about that,” he said aloud.

“You wouldn’t believe the shit that goes down in Jokertown.” He blinked. “Or maybe you would. How long you lived here?”

“Almost ten years.”

“So you never saw the Palace before the fire?”

“No. I’ve heard about it, though. Was it really as crazy as they say?”

“Crazier.” He grinned, an evil thing full of yellow teeth. “One time I was damn near killed by a panda bear. A panda bear! In a bar! Where else but the Palace?”

He went on like that for a while, sharing fascinating anecdotes about people and places that were nearly legends to Eddie, until the wardroom door opened and Franny emerged. “Beastie tells me you saw the fourth snatcher?” he said to Lupo. He seemed half hopeful and half dubious.

“It’s true! Swear to God!”

Franny didn’t look convinced. He turned to Eddie. “You’ve been talking with him. Do you believe him?”

Eddie nodded. “I do, actually.”

“Would you be willing to do a few more sketches?”

“Sure, if you’re paying. But I don’t have my stuff with me.”

The detective set his jaw and did his best to look decisive. “All right. Come back in an hour and I’ll try to find you an interrogation room.”