Lawrence Block - The Topless Tulip Caper

Haig perked up at that particular line, as a matter of fact. “Then they know about Miss Wolinski’s fish?”

“Yes, sir. They were going to find out she had fish, and even the police can add two and two. I told them l was at the club because I was friendly with Tulip, and I said the friendship had happened because Tulip had consulted you as a fellow aquarist about a problem connected with her hobby.”

“Which is not untrue,” Haig murmured.

“I know that. I don’t lie to the police unless I have to. Tulip overheard me say this, and she picked up the ball neatly enough. She said she doesn’t know how good a liar she is. If they grill her I guess she’ll find out.”

“And will they grill her?”

“Over and over again. She was Cherry’s roommate, she was a few yards away from her when she was murdered. They’d have to be crazy not to grill her.”

“There’s no doubt that Miss Bounce was poisoned?”

“None. I saw the blood on her breast. So did someone else, so the M.E. knew where to look for a wound. Just a pinpoint puncture.”

“And the cause of the puncture was not found.”

“No. I looked. The first thing that I thought of was poison. I thought of it before she hit the ground. God damn it, I was looking right at her and I never saw anything hit her. I just saw the blood and then she reached for herself and started to fall. Christ.”

“Chip?”

“I’m all right. When I got up on the stage I was looking for the weapon at the same time that I was determining that she was dead. Not that it was hard to determine. She was all blue in the face. I forget what that’s called. Cyanitis?”

“Cyanosis. And you weren’t looking for the weapon. You were looking for the projectile. A gun is a weapon and a bullet is a projectile.”

“Well, you knew what I meant.”

“My cryptographic ability does not justify your abandoning the English language. You found nothing?”

“Nothing. I didn’t know what I was looking for. Something sharp, but that was as far as I got. A dart or a needle or, hell, anything at all. I didn’t have much time and of course the lighting was terrible, and if it was something like a needle it could have rolled between the floorboards and disappeared.”

“If it’s there, the police will find it. Whatever it may be.”

“Maybe.”

“Absolutely.” He took a pipe from the rack and began twisting it apart. The end of the stem broke off inside the shank and he stared at it, sighed, and dropped both pieces into his wastebasket. He looked at me to see if I was going to smirk, and when I didn’t he went on. “That is their strength. Scientific methodology, exhaustive investigation. If pressed they could find a needle in a haystack. Certainly they can locate one in a nightclub. Unless the murderer has already removed it.”

I thought about that. “He could have,” I said. “It must have hit her and bounced off after puncturing her skin, and if he saw it land he’d have had plenty of time to pick it up. I didn’t make the world’s greatest search for it. I felt it was important to keep as many people inside the place as possible until the police got there.”

“You were probably right,” he said. He cupped his beard, making sure that all the hairs were the right length. “I gather the murderer could have left before you barred the door.”

“Easily. He could have been out the door before Cherry hit the stage, and then he would have had another minute or two while I was checking out the body. A lot of people did leave, I know that much.”

“Hardly an admission of guilt on their part. One can readily appreciate the concern of any number of innocent citizens not to have their presence in such an establishment a matter of public record. All those gentlemen who habitually assure their wives that they are working late at the office.”

“There were enough of those who didn’t get out. When the cops went around taking names, you wouldn’t believe the number of John Smiths who turned up. Of course the cops insisted on seeing identification and took down everybody’s name and address.”

“And you recognized some of the names.”

I stared at him, which of course pleased him no end. “How did you know that?”

He waggled a finger at me. “You’re still a boy who eats the cake and then the frosting, Chip. You save the best for last. If none of our suspects had been present you would have said so earlier. Who was there?”

I got out my notebook and flipped it open. “I can’t say who might have left beforehand. And I can’t be sure that I got the names of all the suspects who were there, because Seidenwall and Gregorio didn’t take me into their confidence. I overheard a few names and I got together with Tulip and she pointed out a couple of people. She didn’t know any of them were there until she happened to see them. Incidentally, her dinner date tonight was with a cousin from Chillicothe, Ohio. He came into town on business yesterday morning and flew home after they had dinner at the Autopub. I didn’t find out what they had for dinner but I could probably check it out for you.”

“Chip.”

“Yes, sir. Gus Leemy was there, obviously. I told you how he did his impression of a bald penguin. That’s not suspicious because he’s always there. Andrew Mallard was there. That’s the ex-boyfriend, the one who kept Tulip’s apartment so she had to find another one.”

“Indeed. And Tulip did not know of his presence beforehand?”

“No. He never talks to her. He usually gets a good table, but what I found out is that there’s no such thing as a good table as far as being up close is concerned. The bar is between the tables and the stage. He came alone, of course. Tulip said he always does.”

“Did you speak to him?”

“I didn’t have a chance. I got a good look at him, though, and I got the impression of a man who goes through life in a fog. He’s tall and thin and he’d be taller if he straightened out his spine a little. He walks with a stoop. Oh, and he wears very thick glasses. From where he was sitting, if he shot a dart or something into Cherry, he was probably aiming at Tulip.”

“Continue.”

“Simon Barckover was there. Tulip didn’t know about this, either, but that wasn’t unusual either. He drops in occasionally with someone he’s trying to convince to book one of his clients. And he usually doesn’t give advance warning that he’s coming to keep his clients from getting uptight. He was there with a man who books acts for a nightclub in West Orange. I didn’t get the name.”

“I doubt that it matters.”

“Well, I tried, all the same. Barckover’s a forty-five- year-old hippie. Embroidered pre-faded jeans, the kind of counterculture clothing you can buy for about two hundred dollars a pair in the East Sixties. A buckskin jacket with fringe that probably cost him double that. Aviator glasses, wears his hair in a Hebro.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“It’s Tulip’s word but I think I like it and I’m going to make it mine. A Hebro. Sort of a Jewish Afro.”

“Indeed.”

I closed the notebook. “That’s it. Just those three, and it wasn’t unusual for any of them to be there. Leemy owns the place, or pretends to. Mallard comes in a lot because he likes to look at Tulip’s breasts while he drinks. Barckover had a professional reason for being there. It’s possible that there were other suspects there. I don’t mean of the ones who ducked out when they had the chance, but besides that. For instance Mrs. Haskell Henderson might have been there and how would we know it? Tulip’s never met her.”

Haig sighed. Then he folded his hands, and then he extended his index fingers and played here’s-the-church-here’s-the-steeple. I got up and looked at some fish.