Nemesis

“A tall blonde. Good clothes, good shape. That’s all I noticed.”

“Only a perfectionist would look for more,” Tonelli grinned. “But I don’t remember any dames like that in here. What about you Sam?”

“Never,” Sam grunted.

Tonelli spread his hands palms-up and shrugged. “I guess you’re wrong, Pally. You must have been in some other joint. Better try somewhere else.”

Larry felt he was fighting shadows. Shadows that could hit back when they were ready. Then he remembered something.

“Wait a minute,” he said. “I can prove I was in here. I talked to one of the twenty six girls. She’ll remember me.”

Tonelli shrugged. “What will that prove? Maybe you were in here. I never said you weren’t. But if it will make you feel any better that’s fine.”

Larry turned on the stool and looked at the girl’s behind the green felt twenty six tables. There were three of them. They were all pretty. They were all blondes.

Corinne had been a brunette.

“Well?” Tonelli said.

“She’s not here now,” Larry said. He turned back and looked helplessly at Tonelli. “Her name was Corinne.” Tonelli frowned for a moment and then drummed his finger tips on the bar. “Corinne?” He shook his head and looked doubtfully at Larry. “That’s a blank,” he said. “Maybe some dame by the name of Corinne worked here. Maybe two or three years ago. But not since then.” He shook his head and then smiled. “That should make you feel better. Now you know you’re in the wrong joint. It happens all the time. Guys come in here looking for dames they met in Detroit or St. Louis. They get mixed up, have a few drinks, and they lose track of places and time. I’ve seen it a dozen times.”

Larry felt a cold nausea in his stomach. The shadows were dancing around him, grinning and smirking. Waiting for their chance. And then he wondered if he was crazy.

“You never had a girl in here by that name?” he persisted.

Tonelli looked at the end of his cigar and shook his head.

“And you never saw a tall, well dressed blonde in here?”

“That’s a pretty general description,” Tonelli said. “I wouldn’t give you a definite answer on that. But it seems pretty sure you didn’t meet anybody in here like that last night.”

He patted Larry on the shoulder. “Go home and get some sleep, Pally. And forget about this thing. I think you had a few extra drinks last night and got a little mixed-up.”

Larry stood up. His hands were shaking.

“Thanks,” he said. He walked out.

Chapter VI

Outside a big man in gray clothes moved away from the wall and fell in step beside him. It was Meyers.

“Can’t let well enough alone?” he asked.

“How did you know where to look for me,” Larry asked dully. But it didn’t seem important.

“Your wife called me. Told me what you had in mind. So I thought I’d drop around and see that you didn’t get liquored up again and cause us more trouble.”

“I wasn’t drunk,” Larry said.

“Meet any dead blondes?” Meyers asked.

“Go to hell,” Larry said.

“Talk that way and I’m liable to slap you one,” Meyers said, without rancor.

“I’m supposed to be crazy,” Larry said. “Nutty as a fruit cake. Why bother about me? Why tail me around?”

“Just trying to keep you out of trouble,” Meyers said. He took Larry’s arm. “My car is over here.”

The car was parked at the corner of Canal and Madison under a NO PARKING sign. The traffic cop grinned at Meyers.

“How’s the wife?” he asked.

“How’s any wife,” Meyers muttered.

He got in beside Larry and lit a cigarette. He made no move to start the car, just sat there, staring out the wind shield. The cigarette in his mouth accumulated ash. Is cascaded down his vest.

“Find out anything?” he asked finally.

Larry shook his head. “The bartender didn’t remember me. The twenty six girl I talked to in there is gone. Some guy, Tonelli, his name was, spent twenty minutes trying to cinvince me I was drunk.”

“Tonelli,” Meyers said. “Go on.”

“That’s all. They claim I wasn’t even at the Kicking Horse last night.”

Meyers pinched his nose with stubby fingers.

“How did Tonelli seem?”

“Friendly enough,” Larry answered. “But he didn’t know of any blonde who hung around the bar there. He didn’t know the twenty six girl. And the bartender was pretty sure he’d never seen me before! But he was lying.”

“How do you figure?”

“He went out of his way to talk to me last night. He fixed me up with this girl. He bought us a drink. A guy would remember something like that.”

“I guess he would,” Meyers said. He turned and looked at Larry. “If it happened, that is.”

“Oh, shut up,” Larry said wearily. “What percentage is there trying to prove I’m crazy? Or just a drunk who has funny dreams? If you don’t believe me let me alone. I know what happened to me. I know where I was last night. I know that bartender was lying. And I intend to find out why.”

Meyers shrugged. “Okay. But don’t cry if you get hurt. Can I drop you somewhere.”

“No,” Larry said. “I can get home.”

Meyers frowned and then threw his cigarette away.

“If you come across anything give me a ring?”

“Now who’s crazy?” Larry asked.