Second thoughts could be seen gathering on Dortmunder’s face, but at that point May called from the dining-room doorway, “Feedbag’s on!” Pointing across the room at Dortmunder, she said, “You stay right there, John, I’ll bring you a plate.”
“And another eggnog,” Kelp said, his hand out for the cup. “Swig that down.”
So Dortmunder swigged it down, and he was brought a plate heaped high with steaming food, plus a fresh cup of eggnog, and the living room filled up with people holding plates of food in one hand and drinks in the other, trying to figure out how to pick up their fork.
“To the founder of the feast!” Kelp suddenly cried out. “John Dortmunder!”
“Aw, come on,” Dortmunder said, but a full-bodied cheer drowned him out. And then goddam Stan Murch had to start singing “For He’s a Jolly Good Fellow,” despite “Oh, Little Town of Bethlehem” currently emanating from the phonograph, and everybody else had to join in, and Dortmunder had to sit there like a fool, the hot dish burning his lap, and get sung at.
After which everybody put their plates and glasses and cups and beer cans down and applauded their own singing or something, and turned bright cheery eyes on Dortmunder, who realized he was expected to say something. He looked around and his eye fell on Kelp’s sparkling face.
He lifted his fresh eggnog. “God help us,” Dortmunder said, “every one.”
Chapter 5
Andy Kelp had friends everywhere, even in the Police Department. Shortly after the New Year, he called a police friend named Bernard Klematsky. “Hi Bernard,” he said. “It’s me, Andy Kelp.”
“Well, hello, Andy. Calling to confess?”
Kelp chuckled. “Always the kidder,” he said. “Lemme buy you a drink when you come off.”
“Why?”
“I wanna pick your brains.”
“In that case,” Bernard said, “you can buy me spaghetti with clam sauce. At Unfredo’s. Ten-thirty.”
“I’ll be there,” Kelp promised, and he was, but Bernard was fifteen minutes late. “Over here,” Kelp called, when Bernard at last arrived, and waved at him across the half-empty restaurant from his table in the corner.
It took a while for Bernard to disencumber himself of his fur hat, his silk scarf, his leather gloves and his wool overcoat, storing them all on the hanger-jangly metal rack by the front door, and then he stood revealed as an average-appearing fellow of thirty-something, with bushy black hair, a rather long and fleshy nose, a rumpled dark blue suit with a rumpled dark blue necktie, and the indefinable air about him of a teacher of… mathematics. A lay teacher, in a parochial school. He came over to the table, rubbing his hands together for warmth, saying, “Cold out tonight.”
“You mean you want a drink and spaghetti.”
“A Rob Roy straight up would be a very nice thing.” Kelp caught the eye of Sal the waiter, ordered the Rob Roy, and said, “And another bourbon and soda.”
“You wanna order?”
“We might as well,” said Bernard. “I’ll have the escalope limone and spaghettini on the side, with clam sauce.”
“Aw, Bernard,” Kelp said, giving him a reproachful look. Bernard didn’t care. He was very happy to be indoors in the warm. Smiling at Kelp, he said, “What about the wine? A nice Verdicchio?”
“Bernard, you’re holding me up.”
“Whoever heard of a cop holding up a robber?”
“Everybody,” Kelp said, and told Sal the waiter, “I’ll have the chicken parmigiana, spaghetti on the side with the red sauce, and we’ll take the Verdicchio.”
Sal the waiter went away, and Bernard shook his head, saying, “All that tomato.”
“I like tomato. Can we talk now?”
“Wait’ll I been bribed,” Bernard said. “What’ve you been up to lately, Andy?”
“Oh, this and that,” Kelp said.
“One thing and the other, huh?”
“More or less,” Kelp agreed.
“Same old thing, in other words.”
“In a manner of speaking,” Kelp said.
“Well, you’re looking good,” Bernard told him. “Whatever you’re up to, it agrees with you.”
“You look good, too,” Kelp said, and the drinks arrived. “Ah, the bribe,” Bernard said. He swigged down half his Rob Roy, beamed, patted his belly, and said, “There. Now we can talk.”
“Good.” Kelp leaned closer over the white tablecloth. “I need a guy’s name and address.”
“Wait a minute,” said Bernard. “You want to pick my brains, or you want to pick Police Department records?”
“Both.”
“Andy, fun’s fun, but maybe you’re about to overstep, you know what I mean?”
Kelp was uncertain on that score himself, and the uncertainty made him nervous. He put away a bit more of his second bourbon and soda, and said, “If you say no, it’s no. I wouldn’t argue with you, Bernard.” He tried a friendly grin. “And I wouldn’t ask for the spaghettini back either.”
“Or the Rob Roy,” Bernard said, and finished it. Then he said, “Okay, Andy, try it on me, and if I say no there won’t be any hard feelings on either side.”
“That’s what I like to hear.” Kelp cleared his throat, and blinked several times.
Bernard pointed at Kelp’s face. “Whenever you blink a lot like that,” he said, “you’re about to tell a lie.”
“No, I’m not,” Kelp said, blinking furiously.
“So let’s hear it,” Bernard said.
Kelp willed his eyelids to remain up. His eyes began to burn. Looking with great sincerity through his burning eyes at Bernard, he said, “What I’m about to tell you is the absolute truth.”
“Relax, Andy,” Bernard told him. “Nobody says I have to believe you. If it’s a good story, I’ll do what I can.”
“Fair enough,” Kelp said, and permitted himself to blink. “I have this cousin,” he said, blinking, “and he’s got himself in hot water with some people.”
“Would I know these people?”
“For your sake,” Kelp said, “I hope not.”
“You worry about me. That’s nice.”
“Anyway,” Kelp went on, “you know me, you know my family, we’ve never been violence-prone.”
“That’s true,” Bernard said. “That’s one of the nice things about you, Andy.”
“My cousin’s the same way. Anyway, he has the idea these people put a hitman on him.”
Bernard looked interested. “Really? Does he want police protection?”
“Excuse me, Bernard,” Kelp said, “but from what I can see, all police protection ever does for anybody is they get to fall out the window of a better class hotel.”
“We won’t argue the point,” Bernard said, which was what he said any time he lacked arguments on his own side. “Tell me more about your cousin.”
“He wants to do his own protecting,” Kelp said. “And in order to do it, he has to identify this guy for sure. Now, he knows some things about him, but he doesn’t have the guy’s name and address. That’s where we need help.”
Bernard looked somber. He said, “Andy, maybe now you should tell me the truth. Is this cousin of yours figuring to hit the hitman? Because if so, I can’t–”
“No no no!” Kelp said, and his eyes didn’t blink at all. “I told you, Bernard, non-violence, it’s an old family tradition. There’s more than one way to skin a cat.”
“They all leave the cat dead.”
“I swear to God, Bernard,” Kelp said, and actually raised his hand in the Boy Scout pledge. “My cousin strictly wants to know for sure who the guy is, and his dealing with the problem will absolutely one hundred per cent not include physical violence.”
“He wants to outbid the other side?”
“I have no idea what’s in my cousin’s mind,” Kelp said, blinking like mad.
“All right,” Bernard said. “Tell me what you know about the guy.”
“He’s white,” Kelp said. “He’s tall, skinny, black haired, he’s got a game leg. The right foot’s in a big orthopedic shoe, and he limps. Also, he got picked up for something late in October, I don’t know for what, and a very famous lawyer called J. Radcliffe Stonewiler got him off.”
Bernard frowned deeply. “You know a lot of funny details about this guy,” he said.
“Please, Bernard,” Kelp said. “Don’t ask me where I get my information, or I’ll have to make up some cockamamie lie, and I’m no good at that.”
“Oh, Andy,” Bernard said, “you underestimate yourself.” And the food and wine arrived. “Nice,” Bernard said. “Let’s eat a while, and I’ll think about this.”
“Great idea,” said Kelp.
So they ate, and they drank wine, and at the end of the meal Bernard said, “Andy, can you promise me, if I get you anything on this bird, nothing illegal will happen?”
Kelp stared at him. “Nothing illegal? Bernard, you can’t be serious. Do you have any idea just how many laws there are?”
“All right,” Bernard said, patting the air. “All right.”
But Kelp had momentum, and couldn’t stop all at once. “You can’t walk down the street without breaking the law, Bernard,” he said. ‘Every day they pass new laws, and they never get rid of any of the old laws, and you can’t live a normal life without doing things illegal.”