not to worry about it. I certainly don’t expect it back now.’
‘How much did he owe you?’
Buddha hesitated, shifting in his chair, lips pursed. Finally, he said, ‘Roughly? Around ten thousand.’
‘You’re quite a friend.’
‘It’s nothing, really. Just paper.’
I wasn’t sure whether to believe him or not so I just let him talk.
‘Match and I went back a long time, you know. Since before Georgette died. He just fell apart when she passed away. Couldn’t write another note after that. He played for a while, but his heart just wasn’t in it. You’d understand if you’d seen them together. Georgette was a remarkable woman. Remarkable! Musical, too. They were made for each other.’ Her name wasn’t on any of the records I owned. ‘Did she play with him?’
‘Oh, no. But she was always in the background though, supporting, advising. Never missed a rehearsal. Carried his scores for him.’ He sighed. ‘Poor Match. We tried to pull him through when she died, but you know how it is. He just let go. And that’s when he found solace in drugs.’
His eyes stared out at nothing, the memories more vivid than anything inside the walls surrounding us.
‘I’ve been giving some thought to this, Miss Ventana,’ he finally said after breaking his reverie. ‘If I could bring Match back, I would. I can’t do anything about his... his passing, but I feel a need to act. I’ve decided to offer a reward - ten thousand dollars - to the person who tracks down the brute who took Match from us.’
Added to the ten from the musician’s union, that made twenty thousand dollars.
‘That’s a lot of money,’ I said, then felt stupid for saying it. ‘It’s not worth one man’s life.’
I agreed, then out of the blue he suggested I talk to Nick DuPont and Eugene Tobinio.
‘It will be excellent for you to speak with them. They’ll tell you Match wasn’t himself on Saturday. By all means, you must speak to them.’
Before I left, I gave Teagues my card and asked him to call me if he thought of anything else. I was halfway across town before I remembered I wasn’t investigating Match’s murder.
14
B ut somebody seemed to think I was. The same pair of headlights tailed me all the way down California. I made a couple of circuits around the block before I got to Gough, then made a U-turn and left him behind as I sped home. I was so sure I’d lost him that I bought a cold six pack and stopped by a place that sells takeout pizza by the slice. Then, once I’d parked and come around the corner to my building, I nearly tripped over Philly Post.
‘Jesus, Post!’ It was hard to ignore him, big and scowling, blocking my path.
‘Ventana.’ It sounded like an indictment. I decided to ignore his tone. Maybe if I sounded chirpy, it’d rub off on him.
‘How’s the investigation going?’
‘You tell me.’
I raised the stuff I was holding - beer and pizza, my dinner - in case he’d overlooked it, and said, ‘Your timing’s bad, Post.’
‘What I’ve got to say’ll just take a minute.’
‘Good.’
‘What are you doing talking to Match’s known associates?’
‘ Known associates! You make him sound like a Mafia don.’
‘Didn’t I tell you not to work this case, Ventana?’
‘I’m not working it.’
‘So what were you doing with Malone and Teagues?’
‘What was I doing? I was not working the case. Just like you told me. And if you’d put your resources to finding Match’s killer instead of tailing me, you’d probably save yourself a couple of weeks. Now, if you’ll excuse me, my pizza’s getting cold.’
I hurried past him, shoved open the door to my building and started upstairs. He scrambled in after me.
‘Go away, Post,’ I said, but he only hurried more.
Five minutes later, he was sitting across from me, eating half my slice of pizza. I was happy to give him half the slice, even offered him some beer, but I wasn’t thrilled about his manners. ‘I don’t have
‘How much did he owe you?’
Buddha hesitated, shifting in his chair, lips pursed. Finally, he said, ‘Roughly? Around ten thousand.’
‘You’re quite a friend.’
‘It’s nothing, really. Just paper.’
I wasn’t sure whether to believe him or not so I just let him talk.
‘Match and I went back a long time, you know. Since before Georgette died. He just fell apart when she passed away. Couldn’t write another note after that. He played for a while, but his heart just wasn’t in it. You’d understand if you’d seen them together. Georgette was a remarkable woman. Remarkable! Musical, too. They were made for each other.’ Her name wasn’t on any of the records I owned. ‘Did she play with him?’
‘Oh, no. But she was always in the background though, supporting, advising. Never missed a rehearsal. Carried his scores for him.’ He sighed. ‘Poor Match. We tried to pull him through when she died, but you know how it is. He just let go. And that’s when he found solace in drugs.’
His eyes stared out at nothing, the memories more vivid than anything inside the walls surrounding us.
‘I’ve been giving some thought to this, Miss Ventana,’ he finally said after breaking his reverie. ‘If I could bring Match back, I would. I can’t do anything about his... his passing, but I feel a need to act. I’ve decided to offer a reward - ten thousand dollars - to the person who tracks down the brute who took Match from us.’
Added to the ten from the musician’s union, that made twenty thousand dollars.
‘That’s a lot of money,’ I said, then felt stupid for saying it. ‘It’s not worth one man’s life.’
I agreed, then out of the blue he suggested I talk to Nick DuPont and Eugene Tobinio.
‘It will be excellent for you to speak with them. They’ll tell you Match wasn’t himself on Saturday. By all means, you must speak to them.’
Before I left, I gave Teagues my card and asked him to call me if he thought of anything else. I was halfway across town before I remembered I wasn’t investigating Match’s murder.
14
B ut somebody seemed to think I was. The same pair of headlights tailed me all the way down California. I made a couple of circuits around the block before I got to Gough, then made a U-turn and left him behind as I sped home. I was so sure I’d lost him that I bought a cold six pack and stopped by a place that sells takeout pizza by the slice. Then, once I’d parked and come around the corner to my building, I nearly tripped over Philly Post.
‘Jesus, Post!’ It was hard to ignore him, big and scowling, blocking my path.
‘Ventana.’ It sounded like an indictment. I decided to ignore his tone. Maybe if I sounded chirpy, it’d rub off on him.
‘How’s the investigation going?’
‘You tell me.’
I raised the stuff I was holding - beer and pizza, my dinner - in case he’d overlooked it, and said, ‘Your timing’s bad, Post.’
‘What I’ve got to say’ll just take a minute.’
‘Good.’
‘What are you doing talking to Match’s known associates?’
‘ Known associates! You make him sound like a Mafia don.’
‘Didn’t I tell you not to work this case, Ventana?’
‘I’m not working it.’
‘So what were you doing with Malone and Teagues?’
‘What was I doing? I was not working the case. Just like you told me. And if you’d put your resources to finding Match’s killer instead of tailing me, you’d probably save yourself a couple of weeks. Now, if you’ll excuse me, my pizza’s getting cold.’
I hurried past him, shoved open the door to my building and started upstairs. He scrambled in after me.
‘Go away, Post,’ I said, but he only hurried more.
Five minutes later, he was sitting across from me, eating half my slice of pizza. I was happy to give him half the slice, even offered him some beer, but I wasn’t thrilled about his manners. ‘I don’t have
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