"Sure," Ollie said. "Did you know she was a prostitute?"
"No, I didn't know that," Liebowitz said, "She told me she was a topless singer and "What I'm trying to find out, Max, is whether you might have dropped the girl off at St. Sab's First…"
"No, I…"
"… instead of Ainsley and Eleventh. You saw her going in an alley on St.
Sab's and First, did
"No."
"Because that's where she was found dead, in the alley there, you see.
We're wondering did these black shits really rob her and kill her, or was it some other shits?
This is a serious thing here, Max."
"I know it is."
"So if you dropped her some place different from what it says on your call sheet…"
"No."
"Or if she stopped some place to score…"
"No, no."
"Cause she was in possession of ten jumbo bottles, you see."
"I don't know what that is, jumbo bottles."
"Crack, Max. Big vials of crack. Red tops."
"I didn't take her any place but Ainsley and Eleventh."
"Not even for a minute."
"Not even for ten seconds."
"So what took you so long to go three miles uptown, Max?"
The taxi went silent.
"Max, are you lying to me?"
"Why would I lie to you?"
"Well, I don't know.. You tell me, Max."
Outside on the street, an ambulance siren wailed to the night.
Liebowitz was silent. Ollie waited. The sound of the ambulance melted into the city's constant nighttime song, a murmur that rose and fell, rose and fell, the pulse beat of a giant metropolis. Still Ollie waited.
"Max," he said.
"Okay," Liebowitz said, "the young lady and I had relations, okay?"
"You and the young lady are related?." Ollie asked, being deliberately dense.
Liebowitz cleared his throat.
"No, we had relations."
"Ah," Ollie said. "Your mutual relatives are de "We had sex," Liebowitz whispered.
"Sex?"
"Yes."
"You mean you had intercourse with her, Max?"
"No, no."
"Then what do you mean, Max?"
"She performed.." uh… fellatio on me."
"That's why it took so long to get uptown."
"Ah."
"I'm not a young man anymore, you see."
"I see."
"It takes a while."
"I see. Max, you could've got arrested doing that, Max?"
"I know."
"You did a foolish thing, Max. You could AIDS, Max, do you know that?"
"Please. Don't even mention such a thing."
"Very dangerous, what you did, Max."
"I know, I know."
"Anyway, that explains it."
"Yes."
"A half hour to drive only three miles uptown."
"Yes."
"But you did drop her off at Ainsley and Eleventh, is that right?"
"Oh yes." a " ,. "No stops along the way, "Well, yes. I pulled over to the curb while she.." uh did…"
"Where?"
"I don't remember. A dark street. I picked a spot that looked dark."
"And then went directly to Ainsley and Eleventh afterward, is that right?"
"Yes. Dropped her right at the curb."
"Where'd she go then, did you happen to notice?"
"Well, no. I guess she went off with these people who were waiting for her."
"What?" Ollie said.
"Some people were waiting for her."
"Who? What people?"
"Three white kids and a black guy," Liebowitz said. "Tell me what they looked like," Ollie said.
The night manager at the Hotel Powell had given Priscilla the addresses and phone numbers of both the manager and doorman who'd been on duty when the tall blond man delivered the envelope containing the key to the pay locker. The letter had been delivered at a little past eleven on Sunday morning and this was now a little before two on Monday morning, but Priscilla felt it wouldn't be tomorrow until she went to bed and woke up again.
This was not a view shared by James Logan, who was asleep at one-fifteen A.M. when Priscilla telephoned him to say she was coming over, and who was still asleep at one fifty-eight A.M. when she rang his doorbell. Swearing mildly, Logan got out of bed in his pajamas, pulled on a robe, and went mutteringly to the front door. He would have told anyone else where to go at this hour of the night, but Miss Stetson was a performer who brought mucho bucks into hotel's cafe. Putting on a false smile, he opened the door and welcomed her as if she were Princess whom she slightly resembled, to tell the truth. Logan was gay.
He would have combed his hair had he known she was bringing two men along, one of whom wasn't at all bad looking. As it was, he stood there the in doorway wearing his tatty robe, his wrinkled pajamas, his worn bedroom slippers, and unconvincing smile, and asked them all to please come in, wouldn't they? They all went in. Logan offered them a drink. The good-looking one Georgie, that his name? said he wouldn't mind a little if Logan had some, thanks a lot. Rough trade if Logan was any judge. He poured the Scotch. The other Tony, said he'd thought it over, and he would have a little Scotch, too, please. Logan poured another glass. With a splash of soda, please, Tony said. Logan went to fetch a bottle of club soda from the refrigerator. This was turning into a regular little party at two o'clock in the morning. With a black named Daryll in the bedroom.
"I want to know whatever you can tell me about the man who delivered that letter to me this morning,! Priscilla said.
