The Wandering Ghost by Martin Limon Read Free Book Online

entered here but when they did it was “ain’t no bag,” as long as they treated the brothers with respect.
    Maybe she was right but I had my doubts. We were only a week away from end-of-month payday, but the Black Cat Club was still about half full. Mostly with Korean business girls, many of them doing their best to look like “sisters.” A soft red glow illuminated the smoke-filled room. The rest of the customers were black GIs, some of them wearing brightly colored outfits they’d designed themselves in the local Korean tailor shops. Almost to a man, they glanced at us warily. I was happy that we were here early, before the place became crowded and before any of the brothers were fully toked up.
    The bartender’s name was Brandy.
    Probably not a name that her Confucian ancestors would’ve approved of but a name that worked well in the Black Cat Club. Marvin Gaye wailed as Ernie leaned across the bar and shouted his questions into Brandy’s ear.
    She knew Jill Matthewson and she liked her. They’d become friendly one night after there’d been a fight in the Black Cat Club. One of the business girls had been injured in the melee and when the ville patrol arrived, Jill provided first aid for the teenage prostitute. Brandy assisted by bringing towels and water and Corporal Jill Matthewson made sure that the young Korean woman was treated for free at the 2nd Division emergency room rather than being left to her own devices as some of the male MPs wanted to do.
    “Jill good people,” Brandy said.
    Ever since then, Brandy couldn’t do enough for her.
    I asked Brandy if she knew what had happened to Jill Matthewson.
    “I don’t know. I go to KNPs, tell them everything I know, but they say they no can find.”
    “ You went to the Korean National Police?” Ernie asked.
    “Yes.”
    “They didn’t come to you?”
    She shook her head negatively and her hoop earrings jingled.
    “And no GIs came and asked you about Jill Matthewson?”
    She shook her head again.
    Apparently, the 2nd Division investigation hadn’t been as thorough as we’d been led to believe.
    Then we asked more about Jill, trying to encourage Brandy to open up. Between bouts of pouring drinks, she did. She said that after the night of the fight, Jill stopped in a few times, off duty, just to talk. She ordered orange Fanta, a soft drink, and when GIs approached and tried to talk to her, she told them she was here to talk to Brandy. When Jill told Brandy that the female barracks on Camp Casey were too noisy and filled with drunken GIs chasing women at all hours of the night, Brandy suggested Jill rent her own hooch.
    “She afraid at first,” Brandy told us. “You know, not used to Korea. But I fix up.”
    Brandy referred Jill Matthewson to a bokdok-bang , a local real estate office, and within a week, Jill had picked out a hooch on the other side of town. In my open notebook, using hangul script, I jotted down the address as Brandy recited it to me.
    After that, Jill hadn’t stopped in the Black Cat Club often, only once or twice a month to bring gifts from the PX. American-made hand lotion for Brandy and chocolate for the business girls.
    We asked about a boyfriend. Again, Brandy said that, as far as she knew, Jill didn’t have one. We asked her why not.
    “She waiting,” Brandy said. “She no like stinko GI.”
    “Stinko” as in drunk.
    Once again, I asked the big question. “Where is Jill Matthewson now, Brandy?”
    She shook her head sadly. She didn’t know. But she promised if she heard anything, she’d come and find us. She also promised that she’d use her contacts, and ask around town. But she wasn’t optimistic. If Jill Matthewson was still in Tongduchon, Brandy said, she’d know it.
    Maybe we’d had a few too many drinks. Maybe I just couldn’t get over the coincidence of Private Marvin Z. Druwood, a military policeman, dying an accidental death—supposedly—only a few days after a fellow MP, Corporal Jill Matthewson,