Only Make Believe by Elliott Mackle Read Free Book Online

arm with her. Came in the back door when nobody was looking. Open and shut case, wouldn’t you think?”
    “An out-of-court divorce, like?” Phil said.
    “Catholics can’t get divorced,” I said. “Isn’t that right?”
    “Have to get annulled,” Brian said. “Wearing a dress and lipstick would surely count against him.”
    I turned to Bud. “We need to get you officially assigned to the case.”
    He closed the file and stood up. “Left a message for the boss. Talked to the shift sergeant. Told him it’d got dumped in my lap. They’ll get back to me on it pronto.”
    “You did secure DiGennaro’s room?”
    “Hell, yes. Had to nail a board across the door. Posted a Do-Not-Enter sign.” Bud yawned. “Shift sergeant is assigning a street cop to guard the evidence. Just until we can work the crime scene.”
    I turned to desk clerk Phil. “Pull all the keys to 522. Plus any fifth-floor pass keys. I’ll put them in my safe.”
    “Done.”
    Bud handed me the Diva’s folder. “Better stow this in the lock-up, too.” He looked around the table. “OK, listen up, folks. Somebody near about killed a man in this place a few hours ago. There’s only two people that know what happened.”
    “Two at least,” Phil said.
    “Stand corrected. So meanwhile I don’t need people telling certain details to every Tom, Dick and Harry that don’t know. Understood?”
    Everybody else nodded. I grinned. Bud sounded like thousands of Southern veterans whose lives combined small-town upbringing, indifferent book learning and battlefield education. Bud’s ranch-hand accent was most intense and appealing when he was either under pressure or drunk. He’d grown up in LaBelle, a cowtown on the edge of the Glades, twenty-five miles northeast of Myers. Raised by his granny and her second husband, a logger from Lake City, he’d finished high school only because of intensive tutoring by his best friend and father figure, the baseball coach. A strong but unconsummated attraction between the married coach and the young athlete left Bud angry and confused. Despite Coach Andy’s help, he flunked senior English and almost left without a diploma. But the war was on. The grade was changed by the principal after Bud was named to the all-state seniors’ baseball team. He joined the Marine Corps a week after graduation.
    Bud took a final swig of coffee. “I got to get going. Here’s what I do need. Dan, Carmen, Phil, you get me a list of everybody that set foot in the hotel since, say, four o’clock yesterday evening.”
    “I’m talking about guests, cooks, card players, lifeguard if he was still on board. Which lady was night maid, Bertha Williams? Dan, you and Mrs. Smallwood talk to her. Phil, I want sign-in sheets, chits, baggage checks, phone messages, delivery trucks, all of it. I want names.”
    Phil whistled. “Good thing Sunday’s a slow night.”
    I nodded. “Carmen and Brian, can you and Tommy get me a list of who was in the club and the dining room?”
    They both nodded.
    Bud clapped his hands together once. “Sounds like you got it under control then. If I could have them lists by, hey, about noon?”
    “Or sooner,” I said. “Now take off.”
    Mrs. Smallwood followed Bud out. I held up my cup for more coffee. “Carmen. Who was cooking last night? Who was on the cold table? Bus boy? Sink? Any strangers come through the kitchen door? The service dock?”
    Carmen began to pour a fresh round. “I start by pulling all time sheets. You want me to ask them what they saw?”
    “No. Better let Bud do the asking. There’ll be talk enough. Tell ’em nothing except to keep quiet and not discuss it, not until Bud sees them.”
    “Under pain of mortal sin,” Brian said. “Seal of the confessional. Heck of a thing. Men in skirts. St. Paul would choke.”
    Carmen put down the pot and struck an Ethel Merman-plays-Annie Oakley pose—fists on hips, head held high. “Did I ever tell you about the padre in my barrio ? He say