keeping anything from you?” Knowles said. “He came to me about three months back. Walked into the office and said, ‘My name is Johnny Bridges. I’d like you to do some work for me.’ž”
“What kind of work? Cash register thefts? Was that it?”
“No, no, why the hell would I get involved in something like that? You know the kind of work I do. Well, that’s the kind of work he wanted.”
“But Johnny isn’t married,” I said.
“I know he isn’t. Look, are you sure he’s a friend of yours?”
“Yes. I’m sure.”
“I’ll check the next time he calls, you know.”
“He isn’t going to be calling, Dennis. The police have him.”
“That’s great,” Knowles said. “He still owes me money.”
“What did you do for him, Dennis?”
“He’s in love,” Knowles said. “With a blonde.”
“Named?”
“Christine Archese.”
I was beginning to get puzzled. I admit it. None of this tied in with what I already knew. Either Dennis was lying or a lot of people before him had lied. Or maybe it had been too long since I’d had a shot of whiskey.
“Let me get this straight,” I said. “Johnny Bridges, according to you, is in love with Christine Archese.”
“That’s what the man said. That’s why he hired me.”
“To do what? Write love poems?”
“No. To get the goods on Dom Archese.”
“Oh, come on, Dennis! What the hell are you giving me?”
“Do you want it or not?” Knowles said.
“I want it.”
“Okay, so shut up. I’ll tell you what one of your biggest faults is, Matt. You don’t listen. A good investigator knows when to shut up.”
I shut up. Knowles nodded, sucked in on his cigar, and said, “Apparently this Dom Archese knew all about the big torrid love affair and refused to give Christine a divorce. About six months ago, to show him she meant business, she kicked him out of the apartment. He still wouldn’t come across. Johnny and Christine sat it out for a while, hoping he’d change his mind. About three months ago, they decided he’d never change his mind. Johnny came to me, determined to do something about it.”
“What did he hope to do?”
“He was working on the assumption that everyone has a skeleton in his closet. Archese had been separated from his wife for three months. Was it not reasonable to assume he might have started something with another frail during that time? Johnny wanted me to find out.”
“And if you found out Archese
wasn’t
playing around?”
Knowles shrugged.
“You’d rig a scene?” I asked.
“I hadn’t suggested that to my client. I doubt if it would have been necessary.”
“You mean Archese
was
playing around?”
“There were indications of that, yes,” Knowles said.
“I don’t believe you,” I said flatly.
“I never make mistakes,” Knowles said. “Bridges gave me a picture of Archese, and he gave me his address. Archese was living alone, so there were no mistakes. We followed the right man, and we were building a good case against him. Now you tell me he’s dead.”
“That’s right.”
“And Johnny is involved in it.”
“Sort of. His initials were written on the wall. Allegedly by the dead man.”
“Ouch!” Knowles said. He paused, thinking. “What kind of a guy is this Johnny Bridges?” he asked.
“Don’t you know? He’s your client.”
“Yeah, but he was always very mysterious. You know how some of them get. Embarrassed because they’re dealing with a detective. He wouldn’t even give me his address or phone number. Paid me a retainer in advance and then came in every week like clockwork to pay me for the past week’s work. He still owes me for last week. You think they’ll let him out on bail?”
“I hope so.”
“I hope so, too. I need that money. He usually calls me two, three times a week. If they let him out, I guess he’ll call, huh?”
“I guess so.”
I wanted a drink. I was very mixed up. Nothing seemed right anymore. I was beginning to think, if what Knowles
“What kind of work? Cash register thefts? Was that it?”
“No, no, why the hell would I get involved in something like that? You know the kind of work I do. Well, that’s the kind of work he wanted.”
“But Johnny isn’t married,” I said.
“I know he isn’t. Look, are you sure he’s a friend of yours?”
“Yes. I’m sure.”
“I’ll check the next time he calls, you know.”
“He isn’t going to be calling, Dennis. The police have him.”
“That’s great,” Knowles said. “He still owes me money.”
“What did you do for him, Dennis?”
“He’s in love,” Knowles said. “With a blonde.”
“Named?”
“Christine Archese.”
I was beginning to get puzzled. I admit it. None of this tied in with what I already knew. Either Dennis was lying or a lot of people before him had lied. Or maybe it had been too long since I’d had a shot of whiskey.
“Let me get this straight,” I said. “Johnny Bridges, according to you, is in love with Christine Archese.”
“That’s what the man said. That’s why he hired me.”
“To do what? Write love poems?”
“No. To get the goods on Dom Archese.”
“Oh, come on, Dennis! What the hell are you giving me?”
“Do you want it or not?” Knowles said.
“I want it.”
“Okay, so shut up. I’ll tell you what one of your biggest faults is, Matt. You don’t listen. A good investigator knows when to shut up.”
I shut up. Knowles nodded, sucked in on his cigar, and said, “Apparently this Dom Archese knew all about the big torrid love affair and refused to give Christine a divorce. About six months ago, to show him she meant business, she kicked him out of the apartment. He still wouldn’t come across. Johnny and Christine sat it out for a while, hoping he’d change his mind. About three months ago, they decided he’d never change his mind. Johnny came to me, determined to do something about it.”
“What did he hope to do?”
“He was working on the assumption that everyone has a skeleton in his closet. Archese had been separated from his wife for three months. Was it not reasonable to assume he might have started something with another frail during that time? Johnny wanted me to find out.”
“And if you found out Archese
wasn’t
playing around?”
Knowles shrugged.
“You’d rig a scene?” I asked.
“I hadn’t suggested that to my client. I doubt if it would have been necessary.”
“You mean Archese
was
playing around?”
“There were indications of that, yes,” Knowles said.
“I don’t believe you,” I said flatly.
“I never make mistakes,” Knowles said. “Bridges gave me a picture of Archese, and he gave me his address. Archese was living alone, so there were no mistakes. We followed the right man, and we were building a good case against him. Now you tell me he’s dead.”
“That’s right.”
“And Johnny is involved in it.”
“Sort of. His initials were written on the wall. Allegedly by the dead man.”
“Ouch!” Knowles said. He paused, thinking. “What kind of a guy is this Johnny Bridges?” he asked.
“Don’t you know? He’s your client.”
“Yeah, but he was always very mysterious. You know how some of them get. Embarrassed because they’re dealing with a detective. He wouldn’t even give me his address or phone number. Paid me a retainer in advance and then came in every week like clockwork to pay me for the past week’s work. He still owes me for last week. You think they’ll let him out on bail?”
“I hope so.”
“I hope so, too. I need that money. He usually calls me two, three times a week. If they let him out, I guess he’ll call, huh?”
“I guess so.”
I wanted a drink. I was very mixed up. Nothing seemed right anymore. I was beginning to think, if what Knowles
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