of beer and cases of empties.
There was an old school teachery-looking desk shoved into an open space on one wall under a small window set high. And a light bulb hanging on a cord from the ceiling fixture. I leaned my hips on the desk and waited. In maybe a minute the door pushed open and Dixie came through.
She said, "Hi. I'm Dixie Walker."
"Your father a Brooklyn Dodger fan?"
She smiled.
"I guess so. My real name's Frances, but he always called me Dixie."
I said, "My name's Spenser. I'm a detective. I'm looking for Anthony Meeker. You used to date him?"
"Yeah, sort of, I guess. You can look at my tits, you want to, I'm used to it. I don't mind."
I glanced down at her chest. Her breasts were quite small, with long nipples.
"I'm trying to keep my mind on Anthony Meeker," I said gallantly. In fact, I thought women walking around topless looked kind of… not silly, exactly, more like sad.
Dixie smiled.
"Sure," she said.
"I just didn't want you feeling uncomfortable."
"Thank you. Tell me about Anthony."
"Well, you know who his father-in-law is?"
"Yeah."
"He made a lot of that," Dixie said.
"So you knew he was married."
"Oh sure you got that kind of hang-up?"
"Just the facts, ma'am," I said.
"He's a grown-up guy. He wants to fool around, ain't my business to straighten him out, you know?"
"Was he fun?" I said.
Dixie shrugged.
"That's the thing. You think he's going to be. You know, kind of a wild guy likes to spend money, always got a smart remark. Promises a lot."
"But?"
"But he's not fun. He'd pick me up after work and we'd go to a place he's got down the road and drink a little Southern Comfort, maybe a joint, and do the deed. He doesn't really spend money.
He just gambles. And when he's not losing his dough on whatever he can find to lose it on, he's talking about his plan, how he's got a system, and how he's going to go to Vegas and bust the town with it. He's pretty boring."
"That's why Vegas is there," I said.
"Guys like Anthony to bust it."
Dixie smiled.
"Yeah. I used to tell him, "Anthony, they ain't in business for you to win, out there." But he had his system, he said. And as soon as he got a kitty together, he was going out and come back rich."
"He say where he was going to get the kitty?"
"No."
"He say what his system was?"
"Yeah, he talked about it all the time, but I got no idea what he was talking about. I never paid no attention."
"Atlantic City's closer," I said.
"Hell, there's a place in Connecticut the Indians run. Be a two-hour drive."
She shook her head.
"It was like his dream," Dixie said.
"Go to Vegas and bust the town. It was like his whatchamacallit, the thing people say when they meditate."
"Mantra," I said.
"Yeah, it was like that."
"When'd you see him last?"
"Oh, not for a while. Last year sometime. His wife found him out, and that was it."
"You think he's faithful to her since."
Dixie looked at me as if I had asked her about pigs whistling.
"He told me it was his wife, but he was ready to dump me anyway, something better came along."
"So you figure he's got a girlfriend now?"
"Anthony's always going to have a girlfriend. It ain't just sex.
He needs somebody to brag to."
"Would he leave his wife, you think?"
"Wife's his ticket to ride," Dixie said.
"Anthony needs a lot of money and he don't know how to earn it."
"Anthony sounds like kind of a lizard," I said.
Dixie smiled a little.
"Phony Tony."
"How come you went out with him?"
Dixie shrugged. Her small naked breasts looked vulnerable in the unshaded light from the bare bulb above her.
"I ain't got that much else going right now," she said.
CHAPTER 11
Why is someone a compulsive gambler?" I said to Susan.
We were having dinner at her place in Cambridge, sitting at her counter eating Chinese takeout. Susan gave Pearl the Wonder Dog a Peking ravioli with her chopsticks. I was eating with a fork.
"I don't know," Susan said.
"But you're a goddamned shrink," I said.
"You're supposed to know
There was an old school teachery-looking desk shoved into an open space on one wall under a small window set high. And a light bulb hanging on a cord from the ceiling fixture. I leaned my hips on the desk and waited. In maybe a minute the door pushed open and Dixie came through.
She said, "Hi. I'm Dixie Walker."
"Your father a Brooklyn Dodger fan?"
She smiled.
"I guess so. My real name's Frances, but he always called me Dixie."
I said, "My name's Spenser. I'm a detective. I'm looking for Anthony Meeker. You used to date him?"
"Yeah, sort of, I guess. You can look at my tits, you want to, I'm used to it. I don't mind."
I glanced down at her chest. Her breasts were quite small, with long nipples.
"I'm trying to keep my mind on Anthony Meeker," I said gallantly. In fact, I thought women walking around topless looked kind of… not silly, exactly, more like sad.
Dixie smiled.
"Sure," she said.
"I just didn't want you feeling uncomfortable."
"Thank you. Tell me about Anthony."
"Well, you know who his father-in-law is?"
"Yeah."
"He made a lot of that," Dixie said.
"So you knew he was married."
"Oh sure you got that kind of hang-up?"
"Just the facts, ma'am," I said.
"He's a grown-up guy. He wants to fool around, ain't my business to straighten him out, you know?"
"Was he fun?" I said.
Dixie shrugged.
"That's the thing. You think he's going to be. You know, kind of a wild guy likes to spend money, always got a smart remark. Promises a lot."
"But?"
"But he's not fun. He'd pick me up after work and we'd go to a place he's got down the road and drink a little Southern Comfort, maybe a joint, and do the deed. He doesn't really spend money.
He just gambles. And when he's not losing his dough on whatever he can find to lose it on, he's talking about his plan, how he's got a system, and how he's going to go to Vegas and bust the town with it. He's pretty boring."
"That's why Vegas is there," I said.
"Guys like Anthony to bust it."
Dixie smiled.
"Yeah. I used to tell him, "Anthony, they ain't in business for you to win, out there." But he had his system, he said. And as soon as he got a kitty together, he was going out and come back rich."
"He say where he was going to get the kitty?"
"No."
"He say what his system was?"
"Yeah, he talked about it all the time, but I got no idea what he was talking about. I never paid no attention."
"Atlantic City's closer," I said.
"Hell, there's a place in Connecticut the Indians run. Be a two-hour drive."
She shook her head.
"It was like his dream," Dixie said.
"Go to Vegas and bust the town. It was like his whatchamacallit, the thing people say when they meditate."
"Mantra," I said.
"Yeah, it was like that."
"When'd you see him last?"
"Oh, not for a while. Last year sometime. His wife found him out, and that was it."
"You think he's faithful to her since."
Dixie looked at me as if I had asked her about pigs whistling.
"He told me it was his wife, but he was ready to dump me anyway, something better came along."
"So you figure he's got a girlfriend now?"
"Anthony's always going to have a girlfriend. It ain't just sex.
He needs somebody to brag to."
"Would he leave his wife, you think?"
"Wife's his ticket to ride," Dixie said.
"Anthony needs a lot of money and he don't know how to earn it."
"Anthony sounds like kind of a lizard," I said.
Dixie smiled a little.
"Phony Tony."
"How come you went out with him?"
Dixie shrugged. Her small naked breasts looked vulnerable in the unshaded light from the bare bulb above her.
"I ain't got that much else going right now," she said.
CHAPTER 11
Why is someone a compulsive gambler?" I said to Susan.
We were having dinner at her place in Cambridge, sitting at her counter eating Chinese takeout. Susan gave Pearl the Wonder Dog a Peking ravioli with her chopsticks. I was eating with a fork.
"I don't know," Susan said.
"But you're a goddamned shrink," I said.
"You're supposed to know
Similar Books
