David Markson - Epitaph For A Tramp

“It’ll be all right, Estelle.”

We stood that way. She was breathing unevenly and I could feel her breasts rising beneath the robe. They were full and firm. It was probably a shoddy thing to consider at the moment, but I thought she very likely needed a man a lot more than she needed consolation. I squeezed her shoulders, waiting another minute, then I eased away.

“I better call them.”

“Will you… I won’t go to school today. I’ll see mother this morning, but I won’t tell her. Harry, will you stop back later?”

“Sure.”

I watched her shuffle into one of the bedrooms. She closed the door.

There was a phone on a stand and I dialed my number. Dan wouldn’t be answering. It rang once and then the voice was Nate Brannigan out of Central Homicide.

“Fannin, Nate.”

“Well,” he said. “Well, now. Fannin, huh? Isn’t that grand? Wait until I check my watch and see just how grand that is. Six forty-one. Putting the time of death at roughly three-thirty, that makes a lapse of three hours and eleven minutes. What the hell, let’s call it three hours even. Nice of you to ring, Mr. Fannin. Would you like a little more time, maybe? Would you like to make it four hours? Five? I’d hate to inconvenience you.”

I let him get all that out of his system.

“Well, Fannin?”

“I wasn’t sure you were finished.”

“I’m not. Not by a damned sight. But first I want to hear your end of it. Tell me a story, Fannin. Make it a good one. Where the damned hell you been? Where are you now?”

“I’m across on 72nd. You get that pick-up on Perry Street?”

“Yeah, yeah. Bogardus. I sent a car. They hauled him in twenty minutes ago, but I’m still waiting for a charge. You better have one, Fannin. You get me stuck with a false arrest to cover a fist fight you had with some wet-nosed kid and I’ll—”

“You read a bulletin on a payroll job in Troy yesterday? Some shirt factory? Roughly forty thousand?”

“Not my department. He in on that?”

“Him and another couple, cousins named Sabatini. I had a session with one of them also, but I lost. He’ll be poking around in some of the same places your boys will be working on the killing, looking for the girl. It slipped my mind to tell him she’s dead.”

“Dan gave me the background on you and the girl, Harry. Sorry about that.”

“Thanks.”

“She rigged in on the Troy thing?”

“That’s pretty much it. She was with Sabatini until roughly two o’clock, then she scrammed. That would have been fine, except she took the money with her. She went someplace before she came to me, more likely two places. One of the guys she went to see had a second thought and followed her. I’ve been using the MG she came in. She—”

“Damn it, Fannin.”

“I was in a hurry, Nate. But let me—”

“No, let me. Okay, so the guy stabs her out front and then grabs the money and guns off. And after that the girl gets back on her feet bleeding like a stuck pig and rings your bell and dances up the stairs, huh?”

“I know how it sounds. But either he thought she was dead or he lost his nerve. You can—”

“the girl didn’t say anything?”

“Not about who killed her, no.”

“But you talked?”

“A couple words, yeah.”

“Fannin, you amaze me. How long have I known you — five, six years?”

“Come off it, will you, Nate? What gripe have you got except that I should have called sooner? What the hell would you have done in my position, got up a bridge game maybe? Let’s play it without the weary cop sarcasm, huh? I’m not much in the mood.”

“Fannin, I’ll finish what I started to tell you. And like I say, if I didn’t know you and you hadn’t played it straight for five years I’d have had every badge in nine precincts out of bed and hunting for you two minutes after I got here—”

“Now listen—”

“You listen. All right, the girl comes up and dies on your doorstep. You used to be married to her, maybe that’s good enough reason why she’s there. But don’t tell me you had a cozy little chat before she died and she didn’t say word number one about who—”

“Damn it—”

“And don’t hand me any fairy tale about somebody she went to see who followed her and took the money, don’t give me that either. Don’t give me anything. Just get yourself over here and make it fast. You get me? I don’t know what you’re trying to cover, or who — the girl’s reputation probably — but I don’t like to be suckered. I’ll trust you on it for the fifteen minutes it’ll take you to get across town and not four seconds longer. What the hell do you take me for anyhow?”

“Why, you old rummy. You old dim-witted country Irish jerk. Five years, huh? And just how many things have I handed you in that time? Every damned one of them crated up and slapped on your desk without a loose string anywhere. Which is a damned good thing because if there was a loose string you’d trip over it and fall on your fat face. And here I get one that I’m not even doing for money, see, no fee at all because sometimes I can get to be sentimental as hell, you know? And in three hours I’ve done half your legwork and found your motive and—”

“What motive, Fannin? What motive is that? You mean the forty-two thousand, three hundred and sixty-seven dollars and thirty-four cents?”

“You bet your tin badge I mean the—”

“Yeah? What’s the matter, Fannin, you get hoarse all of a sudden? You lose the voice from trying so hard to make yourself sound good? ”

“All right, all right, let’s have it. I thought the Troy heist wasn’t your department?”

“Never said it was.”

“Damn it, Brannigan, where’d you get the exact figure? Do I have to come over there and shake it out of you?”

“Why, hell, Harry, not at all. Like I say, its all among friends. You just trot on over and I’ll be more than happy to show you the cash. After all, we found it in your laundry bag, didn’t we?”

Brannigan didn’t ask me how the money had gotten there. It was just as well. For the moment all I could think of was that I’d eaten my oatmeal every day that week without making a single naughty face, so maybe the Good Fairy had left it as a reward. I grunted something unsociable and said I’d be over fast. Brannigan said he’d bet on it.

Actually he would have lost. I had a stop to make first.

Estelle was still inside. I called so long through the door, took the eerie silent elevator down to the lobby and walked toward the MG. From across the street it looked as if some industrious member of the city’s overworked traffic force had ticketed it.

It was only a handbill. Men and women everywhere, it said, make sure today of the salvation of your souls. Are you living a spiritual life or a carnal life? Be saved now! I tossed it into the glove compartment. Let Adam Moss worry about such things, if and when he got the car back. For myself I was more interested in my dirty drawers.

Obviously the killer had been inside after I’d left. Framing me to cover himself would be his only possible out if he thought Cathy had talked before she died.

He. Four hours on it and I came up with a personal pronoun. I wasn’t even sure I had the right gender. Her, maybe. It.

I wondered if Moss was going to have any notions. I was going to find out just about then.

I went up Riverside Drive, cruising more slowly than Bran-nigan would have liked. My broken head would have liked it a lot slower than that. A morning haze was trying to overextend its visa along the Jersey shore across the Hudson, but the sun was cutting it quickly. It was going to be another scorcher.