him. Finally, the cop walked over to the car.
“Don’t you know better than to stop in the middle of the street?” he asked.
“I wasn’t thinking, Officer,” Meyer said.
“Sure. Now what was it you wanted to know?”
“How to get to Archer Avenue.”
“Two blocks down and turn right. What number did you want?”
“4251,” Meyer said.
“Another three blocks after you make the turn.” He glanced at the oncoming traffic. “Okay, go ahead.” As they pulled away, he shouted, “And don’t stop in the middle of the street no more, you hear me, mister?”
“Nice fellow,” Meyer said.
“Gives cops a bad name,” O’Brien said glumly.
“Why? He helped us, didn’t he?”
“Bad disposition,” O’Brien said, and Meyer made his right turn. “Three blocks from here, right?”
“Right,” Meyer said. They drove up the street leisurely and stopped before 4251. “Here it is. Let’s hope he’s home.”
4251 Archer, as were most of the dwellings in Riverhead, was a private house. Meyer and O’Brien went up the front walk and pulled the door knocker. A tall man in a white shirt and a red weskit answered the door.
“Yes, gentlemen,” he said, “can I help you?”
“Mr. Pullen?” Meyer said.
“Yes?” Pullen studied his visitors. “Is it real estate, or insurance?”
“We’d like to ask you some questions, Mr. Pullen. We’re from the police.”
“Police?” Pullen went white in the space of two seconds. “Wh—wh—what…what did…?”
“May we come in, Mr. Pullen?”
“Yes. Yes, come in.” Hastily, Pullen glanced past them to make sure none of his neighbors were watching. “Come in.”
They followed him into the house and into the living room. The room was done in heavy furniture covered with maroon mohair. It made the small interior seem hotter than it really was.
“Sit down,” Pullen said. “What’s this all about?”
“Have you been receiving or making phone calls to a Miss Oona Blake?”
“Why, yes.” Pullen looked surprised, and then relieved. “Oh, it’s about her, isn’t it? Not me? Her?”
“Yes, it’s about her.”
“I knew she was a tough customer. I knew it the minute I laid eyes on her. A very flashy person. Very flashy. What is she? A prostitute?”
“No, we don’t know what she is. We’d simply like to find out what the nature of her business with you was.”
“Why, real estate,” Pullen said. “What did you think? She wanted to rent an apartment.”
“Where?”
“Well, she was very specific about it. She wanted an apartment either facing 831 Charles Avenue or else behind 831 Charles Avenue. That’s just a little ways from here. Charles Avenue.”
“That rings a bell,” Meyer said. He thought for a moment. “Sure. That’s where Steve’s parents live. Did Miss Blake say why she wanted an apartment near that address?”
“Said she had friends there.”
“I see. Did you get an apartment for her?”
“Nope. Not that one. But I was able to fill her other request. Yep, I gave her good service on that one.”
“Which one was that?” O’Brien asked.
Pullen smiled. “Why, the apartment she wanted near the photography studio.”
“What a dinner!” Birnbaum said. “Tony, you outdid yourself. What a wedding, what a dinner!”
“Birnbaum, have some champagne,” Tony said. “We got enough champagne here to start a France. Have some champagne, my friend.” He led Birnbaum to the ice mermaid and pulled a bottle from her frozen tub. Everywhere around him, champagne corks were popping, and each new pop filled Tony’s heart with joy. It really was getting to be a fine wedding. Maybe all the money those lousy Incorporated were getting would be worth it after all. He tore the gold foil from the neck of the bottle and then ripped the wire loose. Working the cork with his thumbs, he slowly edged it out of the bottle. Standing next to him, Birnbaum put his fingers in his ears. The cork moved out of the bottle neck.
“POP!”
“Don’t you know better than to stop in the middle of the street?” he asked.
“I wasn’t thinking, Officer,” Meyer said.
“Sure. Now what was it you wanted to know?”
“How to get to Archer Avenue.”
“Two blocks down and turn right. What number did you want?”
“4251,” Meyer said.
“Another three blocks after you make the turn.” He glanced at the oncoming traffic. “Okay, go ahead.” As they pulled away, he shouted, “And don’t stop in the middle of the street no more, you hear me, mister?”
“Nice fellow,” Meyer said.
“Gives cops a bad name,” O’Brien said glumly.
“Why? He helped us, didn’t he?”
“Bad disposition,” O’Brien said, and Meyer made his right turn. “Three blocks from here, right?”
“Right,” Meyer said. They drove up the street leisurely and stopped before 4251. “Here it is. Let’s hope he’s home.”
4251 Archer, as were most of the dwellings in Riverhead, was a private house. Meyer and O’Brien went up the front walk and pulled the door knocker. A tall man in a white shirt and a red weskit answered the door.
“Yes, gentlemen,” he said, “can I help you?”
“Mr. Pullen?” Meyer said.
“Yes?” Pullen studied his visitors. “Is it real estate, or insurance?”
“We’d like to ask you some questions, Mr. Pullen. We’re from the police.”
“Police?” Pullen went white in the space of two seconds. “Wh—wh—what…what did…?”
“May we come in, Mr. Pullen?”
“Yes. Yes, come in.” Hastily, Pullen glanced past them to make sure none of his neighbors were watching. “Come in.”
They followed him into the house and into the living room. The room was done in heavy furniture covered with maroon mohair. It made the small interior seem hotter than it really was.
“Sit down,” Pullen said. “What’s this all about?”
“Have you been receiving or making phone calls to a Miss Oona Blake?”
“Why, yes.” Pullen looked surprised, and then relieved. “Oh, it’s about her, isn’t it? Not me? Her?”
“Yes, it’s about her.”
“I knew she was a tough customer. I knew it the minute I laid eyes on her. A very flashy person. Very flashy. What is she? A prostitute?”
“No, we don’t know what she is. We’d simply like to find out what the nature of her business with you was.”
“Why, real estate,” Pullen said. “What did you think? She wanted to rent an apartment.”
“Where?”
“Well, she was very specific about it. She wanted an apartment either facing 831 Charles Avenue or else behind 831 Charles Avenue. That’s just a little ways from here. Charles Avenue.”
“That rings a bell,” Meyer said. He thought for a moment. “Sure. That’s where Steve’s parents live. Did Miss Blake say why she wanted an apartment near that address?”
“Said she had friends there.”
“I see. Did you get an apartment for her?”
“Nope. Not that one. But I was able to fill her other request. Yep, I gave her good service on that one.”
“Which one was that?” O’Brien asked.
Pullen smiled. “Why, the apartment she wanted near the photography studio.”
“What a dinner!” Birnbaum said. “Tony, you outdid yourself. What a wedding, what a dinner!”
“Birnbaum, have some champagne,” Tony said. “We got enough champagne here to start a France. Have some champagne, my friend.” He led Birnbaum to the ice mermaid and pulled a bottle from her frozen tub. Everywhere around him, champagne corks were popping, and each new pop filled Tony’s heart with joy. It really was getting to be a fine wedding. Maybe all the money those lousy Incorporated were getting would be worth it after all. He tore the gold foil from the neck of the bottle and then ripped the wire loose. Working the cork with his thumbs, he slowly edged it out of the bottle. Standing next to him, Birnbaum put his fingers in his ears. The cork moved out of the bottle neck.
“POP!”
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