Hail to the Chief Page 8

  'Randall Nesbitt?' Carella asked.

  'Um?' Nesbitt said, and looked up. There was a smile on his face - the expansive, calculated smile of a television celebrity on a late-night show.

  Carella distrusted the smile at once. 'Police officers,' he said, and flashed the tin.

  Nesbitt studied the gold-and-blue shield with great interest, and then looked up and smiled again. 'Yes, Officer,' he said, 'how can I help you?'

  'What's your name, young lady?' Kling asked.

  'Toy,' the girl said.

  'Toy?'

  'Toy Wilke.'

  'We'd like to ask you a few questions,' Carella said to Nesbitt. 'Mind if we sit down?'

  'Please join us,' Nesbitt said. 'Would you like some ice cream? Or a cup of coffee or something?'

  'Thank you, no,' Carella said, and sat in the booth alongside Toy. Kling sat next to Nesbitt. 'Are you the president of a gang called the Yankee Rebels?' Carella asked across the table.

  'That's the name of our clique, that's correct,' Nesbitt said.

  'We're trying to locate somebody named Midge,' Carella said. 'Would the name happen to register?'

  Toy seemed about to say something, but a sidelong glance from Nesbitt silenced her.

  'Midge,' Nesbitt said thoughtfully, and tented his hands, and considered the name as though he'd just been invited to christen a battleship. 'Midge, Midge,' he said. 'No, can't say that it rings a bell, Officer.'

  'We have information that leads us to believe Midge belongs to your gang.'

  'Really?' Nesbitt said. 'Toy, you know any member named Midge?'

  'No,' Toy said, and bent over her glass, and put the straws between her lips, and busied herself with the soda.

  'Sorry we can't help you,' Nesbitt said. Then, as though to emphasize his dismissal of the two men, he picked up his spoon, cut into the banana with it, scooped a combination of chocolate sauce and cherry syrup into the bowl of the spoon, and shoveled the entire dripping mixture into his mouth.

  'We're not quite finished yet,' Carella said.

  'Oh, sorry,' Nesbitt said, swallowing. He put the spoon down again, smiled his eager, pleasant, cooperative smile, and said, 'Yes?'

  'Anyone in your gang named Big Anthony?'

  'Why, yes,' Nesbitt said.

  'Know where we can find him?'

  'Have you tried his house?'

  'If you're referring to the apartment he shares with his mother, at 334 North 38th, yes, we've tried his house.'

  'I guess he wasn't there.'

  'That's right.'

  'I don't know where he is,' Nesbitt said, and picked up the spoon again. He was dipping it into a melting scoop of strawberry ice cream when Carella said, 'Does he have a driver's license?'

  'Who? Big? Sure, he does.'

  'What kind of car does he drive?'

  'He doesn't have a car.'

  'But the gang has a car.'

  'No, we don't have a car.'

  'Do you have a pickup truck?'

  'Yes, we have a pickup truck,' Nesbitt said. 'You'll excuse me, Officer, but I'm not sure I understand where this line of questioning is going to.'

  'Stick around,' Kling said.

  Nesbitt smiled. 'I wasn't going no place, Officer.'

  'That's right, you weren't,' Kling said. 'Not till we're through with you.'

  'Of course,' Nesbitt said, 'I know my rights, and—'

  'Save it,' Kling said curtly.

  'I was going to say that maybe you ought to start advising me of them. I mean, if this is going to be a big interrogation scene here, then how about—?'

  'This is a field interrogation, and your rights aren't in jeopardy,' Kling said. 'What kind of pickup truck do you own?'

  'A Chevy.'

  'What year?'

  'Sixty-four.'

  'Where is it now?'

  'I don't know which one of the members has it right this minute,' Nesbitt said, and smiled. 'We're all allowed to drive it when we need it. All of us who've got licenses, of course. We're a law-abiding club.'

  'Who was driving it last time you saw it?' Carella asked.

  'I forget.'

  'Try to remember.'

  'Why is it important?'

  'It may have figured in an armed robbery,' Kling lied.

  'Really?' Nesbitt said. He shook his head. 'I think you've got the wrong truck in mind.'

  'Greenish-blue, sixty-four Chevy with a Confederate flag painted on the driver's side.'

  'Both sides,' Nesbitt said.

  'The garage attendant only saw the driver's side,' Carella said, picking up and amplifying Kling's lie.

  'Gee,' Nesbitt said, 'maybe somebody stole our truck, eh, Toy?'

  'Maybe,' Toy said, and slurped up chocolate soda from the bottom of the glass.

  'Because none of our guys, you see, would go holding up no gas station.'

  'But it does sound like your truck, doesn't it?'

  'Oh, yeah, it sounds like it, all right. But it can't be, you see. Unless, like I said, the truck was stolen. We usually park it in the empty lot on Dill, near the clubhouse. Maybe somebody stole it, and then later went and stuck up a gas station.'

  'That's possible, Steve,' Kling said.

  'Yes, it's possible,' Carella said.

  'Sure, that's what must've happened,' Nesbitt said. 'I'd better get back to the clubhouse and check on it. There's supposed to be a man watching that truck at all times.'

  'Big Anthony's mother said he was out of town,' Carella said abruptly.

  'Yeah, well, she hardly ever knows where he is,' Nesbitt said, and smiled.

  'She seemed pretty certain about it'

  'Well,' Nesbitt said, and spread his hands in a gesture indicating Big Anthony's mother was not a competent or reliable witness.

  'Said he left the apartment Wednesday night. Told her he might be gone a week or so.'

  'That's news to me, all right,' Nesbitt said. 'Officers, I have to tell you that's news to me. I'm president of this clique, and most of the members keep in touch with me concerning where they're going or not going. That's not a rule, you understand, they ain't required to keep me informed. But they do, and I usually know where they are. And Big never said a word to me about going cut of town.'

  'His mother said he was going to Turman.'

  'Yeah? Across the river? Well, that's news to me."

  'The reason we're so curious about Big Anthony is that the gas station that was held up happens to be in Turman.'

  'Officers,' Nesbitt said, 'I think you're lying to me. I don't know why you're lying, but I think you are.'

  'That makes us even,' Kling said.

  'Me? Are you talking about me?' Nesbitt said. 'I never lie. I make a practice of always telling the truth.'

  'Good, so start telling it now,' Carella said.

  'I've been telling it all along.'

  'Where's Midge?'

  'I don't know anybody named Midge.'

  'Where's Big Anthony?'

  'I don't know. If his mother says he went to Turman, then maybe that's where he is, though his mother is a little nuts, and I frankly wouldn't trust her as far as I can throw her. But if she says he went to Turman, then who knows? Maybe for once in her lifetime she got something right, who knows?'

  'Where in Turman?'

  'He didn't even tell me he was going to Turman, so how would I know where he was going in Turman?'

  'Have you heard from him since Wednesday?'

  'Nope.'

  'Isn't that a little odd?'

  'It's not a requirement that everybody has to tell me every time he's going to the bathroom,' Nesbitt said. 'I got good people, and they're free agents. They know I'm the president, and what I say goes, but they don't have to report to me every ten minutes.'

  'We're not talking about ten minutes. We're talking about three days. Are you trying to tell us that one of your members has been gone for three days, and you don't know anything about it?'

  'That's not only what I'm trying to tell you, it's what I
am telling you.'

  'We think Big Anthony and Midge are together.'

  'Impossible.'

  'Why?'

  'First of all, who's Midge? If I don't know her, how would Big know her? And second of all, Big has a girl friend, and she would get very irritated if he was fooling around with some other chick. Isn't that right, Toy? Wouldn't she get very irritated?'

  'Yeah,' Toy said, 'she would get very irritated.'

  The two detectives were watching Nesbitt intently. They had given him enough rope and he had hanged himself, and now they simply watched him silently, waiting for him to realize that the trap had sprung, and the noose had tightened around his neck, and his feet were dangling in the air over the scaffold.

  'What's the matter?' Nesbitt said. 'What are you looking at?'

  Neither of the detectives answered.

  'Must be a staring contest,' Nesbitt said, and picked up his spoon. 'This is all melting,' he said to Toy, ignoring the detectives.

  'How do you know she's a girl?' Carella said.

  'Who? Who're you talking about now?' Nesbitt said.

  'Same person. Midge. How do you know she's a girl?'

  'You told she was a girl. You said you were looking for a girl named Midge.'

  'We said we were trying to locate somebody named Midge. We didn't say she was a girl.'

  'I figured she was a girl,' Nesbitt said, and shrugged.

  'What do you figure Chingo is?'

  'A boy.'

  'But you figured Midge was a girl.'

  'That's right.'

  'Just like that, huh? Midge is automatically a girl.'

  'Automatically.'

  'Okay,' Carella said, 'we're going to level with you, Randy,' and then immediately told another lie. 'We're looking for Midge because we think she was an accomplice in a crime we're investigating.'

  'What crime is that?' Nesbitt said.

  'A routine mugging. We think Midge and two boys hit an old lady on Peterson Drive.'

  'I wish I could help you,' Nesbitt said, 'but I don't know her.' They watched his face. Not a flicker of emotion flashed on it. If he already knew the girl was dead, if he'd received a call from Big Anthony in Turman, nothing in his dark brooding eyes revealed it.

  'We don't think Big Anthony's involved,' Kling said, embroidering the lie. 'But somebody told us Midge was his girl. I guess our information was wrong there, Steve,' he said, turning to Carella.

  'I guess so. Randy says Big Anthony already has a girl. Isn't that right, Randy?'

  'That's right.'

  'What's her name?'

  'Ellie Nelson.'

  'Know where she lives?'

  'Sure. On Dooley, two blocks from the clubhouse.'

  'What's the address?'

  '1894 Dooley.'

  'And the apartment number?'

  '5A. She won't know where Big Anthony is, either.'

  'How can you be sure?'

  Nesbitt smiled his late-night, television-personality smile again, 'I can be sure,' he said.

  On the way up to the fifth floor of 1894 Dooley, Kling suddenly said, 'I think I figured it out.'

  'What'd you figure out this time?'

  'What he meant.'

  'Who? Nesbitt?*

  'No, Sack. The old man in Turman.'

  'Sack?' Carella said. 'That was yesterday, for God's sake.'

  'That's right, it's been bothering me. You remember when we were saying goodbye to him?'

  'Yes?'

  'And you thanked him and then apologized for having interrupted his breakfast?'

  'Uh-huh.'

  'And I said "We're grateful." Do you remember that? And he answered "Don't care for it. Too bitter." I finally figured out what he meant.'

  'What did he mean?'

  'Well, what was he doing when we went in there, Steve?'

  'He was eating his breakfast.'

  'Right. And what do people have for breakfast?'

  'All kinds of things, Bert.'

  'Yes, but what do they start with? What do you start with?'

  'Juice.'

  'Yes, but not everybody starts with juice. Some people start with grapefruit.'

  'So?'

  'So Sack thought I was talking about grapefruit. He misheard me. He thought "grateful" was "grapefruit." That's why he answered "Don't care for it. Too bitter."' Kling smiled. 'You get it, Steve?'

  'That's ridiculous,' Carella said.

  'I'll bet it's what he meant.'

  'Okay, fine.'

  'Anyway, it was bothering me, and it's not any more.'

  'Good, here we are,' Carella said, and stopped before the door to 5A, and knocked on it.

  Ellie Nelson was wearing a navy-blue T-shirt and dungaree pants when she opened the door. She was perhaps seventeen years old, quite pretty, with a pert nose and vibrant blue eyes. Her figure was good, and she knew it. She smiled up at the policemen as though she'd been expecting them. Carella and Kling assumed Nesbitt had telephoned her from the phone booth in the ice cream parlor.

  'Hi,' she said.

  'Police officers,' Carella said, and showed his shield. The girl barely glanced at it. 'All right if we come in?'

  'Sure, why not?' she said, and stepped away from the door, allowing them to enter the apartment. A gray-haired woman with a lace shawl over her shoulders was sitting by the kitchen window, rocking in a green rocking chair and knitting in a shaft of sunlight. Ellie caught the brief shifting of Kling's eyes, and said, 'My grandmother. She won't bother us. Come in, come in.'

  'Anybody else live here in this apartment?' Kling asked.

  'My mother, my grandmother, and me,' Ellie said, and closed the door behind them. 'Come on in the parlor. What'd you want?'

  The living room was furnished in a three-piece suite done in red velveteen. A television set rested on a wheeled cart. There were no pictures or photographs on the walls. There was a curtain only on the window facing the street. The airshaft window had been left uncovered, and faced a grimy brick wall. Ellie sat in one of the easy chairs and gestured to the sofa. The detectives sat opposite her. 'So, what'd you want?' she asked again.

  'We understand you're Big Anthony's girl friend,' Carella said.

  'That's right,' Ellie said, and smiled.

  'That would be Anthony Sutherland, is that right?'

  'That's right, Big Anthony. We call him that 'cause he's six feet four inches tall, and he's got shoulders this wide,' Ellie said.

  'And he's a member of the Yankee Rebels, is that also right?'

  'That's right. Me, too. The women's auxiliary. It's a great clique. I only joined it 'cause I was going with Big Anthony, you know, and he's the treasurer. But, man, am I glad I did! It was really boring before I got involved with the Rebs. Life, I mean. You could go out of your mind with school around here, and nothing to do nights but sit and watch television. The Rebs changed all that. Well, Big Anthony, of course. But the Rebs, too. They're a real decent bunch of guys and girls, I mean it. They're the closest friends I've got in the world.'

  'Midge, too?' Carella asked abruptly.

  Ellie's face went blank. 'Midge?' she said.

  'Midge. Red-headed girl, about five feet two inches tall, weight about ninety-seven, freckles across the bridge of her nose, wears a little gold locket on her wrist, heart-shaped, with the name Midge on it.'

  'Don't know her,' Ellie said, and shrugged.

  'We thought she was a member of the Yankee Rebels,' Carella said.

  'Never heard of her,' Ellie said.

  'Okay, when's the last time you saw your boy friend?'

  'Wednesday afternoon,' Ellie said.

  'Where?'

  'He came up here.'

  'And you haven't seen him since?'

  'No.'

  'Do you know where he is?'

  'No.'

  'When he was up here, did he mention that he might be leaving the city?'

  'No.'

  'How long have you been going with him?'

  'Close to a year.'
>
  'Has he called you since Wednesday?'

  'No.'

  'Been going with him for a year, and he didn't mention he was leaving the city, and he hasn't called you since he left? Is that what you're asking us to believe, Ellie?'

  'It's the truth,' Ellie said, and shrugged again. 'Why do you want him?'

  'We think he's with this girl Midge,' Kling said, and watched her carefully.

  'Big?' she said. 'Is with… this girl, whoever she is?'

  'That's what we think.'

  'No,' Ellie said, and shook her head. 'You're mistaken. Big and I are going together, you see. We're almost like engaged. I mean, we plan to get married, you see. What would he be doing with… her?'

  'With Midge.'

  'Yeah. Whatever her name is.'

  'Midge. That's her name. Very pretty little girl, from what we understand.'

  'Well, Big Anthony wouldn't… I mean, he just wouldn't go off with another girl. I mean, where would he go? And anyway, he wouldn't.'

  'To Turman, that's where he'd go.'

  'Turman?'

  'Yes. Across the river.'

  'Well… what makes you think he went to Turman?'

  'His mother said so. He left Wednesday night.'

  'Mrs Sutherland said that?'

  'That's what she said.'

  'That Big Anthony went to Turman?'

  'Yes.'

  The girl fell silent. It was apparent (assuming Randy had indeed phoned to alert her) that he had not mentioned the possibility of the detectives' lying to her as they had lied to him. Ellie was biting her lower lip now, and thinking very hard about what they had just suggested - the possibility that her boy friend had left on Wednesday night for someplace across the river, taking with him a girl she knew to be another member of the auxiliary. They had their theme now, and they were prepared to play it again and again, until they got what they were looking for. There was no question that Big Anthony had gone to Turman on Wednesday night, driving the gang's truck, and most likely in the company of Midge and another of the gang members. All they were trying to find out was where he had gone in Turman.