know.”
“Give me the address and a phone number where you can be reached, and then tell that barmaid I want to talk to her.”
Pancaldo gave Rackman the information, then he rose and lumbered toward the tables where the girls were sitting. He said something and a pale blonde got up, looked uncertainly at Rackman, slung her bag over her shoulder, and came toward him, swinging her bony hips. Cops and lab technicians scurried back and forth through the bar, carrying equipment and pieces of paper, looking intensely for any clues.
“You wanted to see me?” the blonde asked Rackman. She had front teeth like a rabbit.
“Are you Barbara Leary?”
“Yes.”
“Have a seat.”
She sat and crossed her legs, looking surly and suspicious.
“Is Barbara Leary your real name?”
“Yes.”
“Where do you live?”
“Four twenty-nine West Twenty-eighth Street.”
“How long have you been working here?”
“Two months.”
“I understand you were working behind the bar when the suspect came in.”
“That’s right.”
“He sat next to Rene LeDoux?”
“Yes.”
“Did they know each other?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Why not?”
“Because they didn’t act like they knew each other.”
“What did they talk about?”
“The usual stuff.”
“What usual stuff?”
She shrugged. “You know.”
Rackman guessed that Rene LeDoux had propositioned the suspect and Barbara Leary didn’t want to say so because propositioning was against the law.
“What did the guy look like?”
“He was a fat guy.”
“White or black?”
“White.”
“Color of hair?”
“Black.”
“Longer than mine, or shorter?”
“Shorter.”
“Crew cut?”
“Not that short.”
“What did his face look like?”
“Ugly.”
“In what way?”
“He had little eyes and a little nose. And a mouth like a camel. You ever see a camel’s mouth?”
“What was he wearing?”
“One of those black and red shirt jackets made out of wool.”
“You spoke with him?”
“Uh huh.”
“What did you say?”
“I asked him what he wanted to drink and he ordered a beer.”
“Did he have an accent of any kind?”
“He sounded like a regular New York guy.”
“Did he argue with Rene LeDoux?”
“No, but he was a turkey.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“He was a wise guy, or thought he was. He was giving Rene a hard time about . . . the price of things.”
“They finally agreed on a price?”
“Something like that.”
“Then they went back to the room?”
“Right.”
“Then what happened?”
“A few minutes later he came out and went for the door. Al and Mackie tried to stop him, but he punched Al and split. Then we called the cops, I mean the police.”
Rackman looked at his notes. “You never saw him before.”
“Not that I know of.”
“Did he speak to anybody else while he was here?”
“Sally Ray.”
“What did they talk about?”
“The same thing he talked about to Rene.”
“How tall would you say he was?”
“A little shorter than you.”
“How much did he weigh?”
“A lot.”
“Two hundred and fifty pounds?”
“I don’t know exactly, but he was a big fat guy.”
“Were you friendly with Rene LeDoux?”
“I knew her but we didn’t hang out together or anything like that.”
“Do you know where she lived?”
“In a hotel on Fifty-first Street. The Albemarle.”
“Did she live alone there?”
“She had a boyfriend. A French guy from Montreal.”
“You ever meet him?”
“Once he came in here for her.”
“You know his name?”
“Pierre. I don’t know his last name.”
“What did he look like?”
“He was a dude. Wore a suit and tie, had a mustache. He was a little taller than her, and a little on the skinny side.”
“Did Rene LeDoux have any trouble with anybody that you knew about?”
“Naw, she was pretty easy to get along with. A real laid back person, if you know what I mean. She’d been through the mill. Told me once that she was
“Give me the address and a phone number where you can be reached, and then tell that barmaid I want to talk to her.”
Pancaldo gave Rackman the information, then he rose and lumbered toward the tables where the girls were sitting. He said something and a pale blonde got up, looked uncertainly at Rackman, slung her bag over her shoulder, and came toward him, swinging her bony hips. Cops and lab technicians scurried back and forth through the bar, carrying equipment and pieces of paper, looking intensely for any clues.
“You wanted to see me?” the blonde asked Rackman. She had front teeth like a rabbit.
“Are you Barbara Leary?”
“Yes.”
“Have a seat.”
She sat and crossed her legs, looking surly and suspicious.
“Is Barbara Leary your real name?”
“Yes.”
“Where do you live?”
“Four twenty-nine West Twenty-eighth Street.”
“How long have you been working here?”
“Two months.”
“I understand you were working behind the bar when the suspect came in.”
“That’s right.”
“He sat next to Rene LeDoux?”
“Yes.”
“Did they know each other?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Why not?”
“Because they didn’t act like they knew each other.”
“What did they talk about?”
“The usual stuff.”
“What usual stuff?”
She shrugged. “You know.”
Rackman guessed that Rene LeDoux had propositioned the suspect and Barbara Leary didn’t want to say so because propositioning was against the law.
“What did the guy look like?”
“He was a fat guy.”
“White or black?”
“White.”
“Color of hair?”
“Black.”
“Longer than mine, or shorter?”
“Shorter.”
“Crew cut?”
“Not that short.”
“What did his face look like?”
“Ugly.”
“In what way?”
“He had little eyes and a little nose. And a mouth like a camel. You ever see a camel’s mouth?”
“What was he wearing?”
“One of those black and red shirt jackets made out of wool.”
“You spoke with him?”
“Uh huh.”
“What did you say?”
“I asked him what he wanted to drink and he ordered a beer.”
“Did he have an accent of any kind?”
“He sounded like a regular New York guy.”
“Did he argue with Rene LeDoux?”
“No, but he was a turkey.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“He was a wise guy, or thought he was. He was giving Rene a hard time about . . . the price of things.”
“They finally agreed on a price?”
“Something like that.”
“Then they went back to the room?”
“Right.”
“Then what happened?”
“A few minutes later he came out and went for the door. Al and Mackie tried to stop him, but he punched Al and split. Then we called the cops, I mean the police.”
Rackman looked at his notes. “You never saw him before.”
“Not that I know of.”
“Did he speak to anybody else while he was here?”
“Sally Ray.”
“What did they talk about?”
“The same thing he talked about to Rene.”
“How tall would you say he was?”
“A little shorter than you.”
“How much did he weigh?”
“A lot.”
“Two hundred and fifty pounds?”
“I don’t know exactly, but he was a big fat guy.”
“Were you friendly with Rene LeDoux?”
“I knew her but we didn’t hang out together or anything like that.”
“Do you know where she lived?”
“In a hotel on Fifty-first Street. The Albemarle.”
“Did she live alone there?”
“She had a boyfriend. A French guy from Montreal.”
“You ever meet him?”
“Once he came in here for her.”
“You know his name?”
“Pierre. I don’t know his last name.”
“What did he look like?”
“He was a dude. Wore a suit and tie, had a mustache. He was a little taller than her, and a little on the skinny side.”
“Did Rene LeDoux have any trouble with anybody that you knew about?”
“Naw, she was pretty easy to get along with. A real laid back person, if you know what I mean. She’d been through the mill. Told me once that she was
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