Vermilion by Nathan Aldyne Read Free Book Online Page B

studied it for a moment and shook his head.
    â€œWell, what do you want to know?”
    â€œWhen did you see him last?”
    â€œLast night.”
    Searcy took a slow swallow of his drink, studying the man. “What was he doing here?”
    â€œWhat everybody else comes to Nexus for—get plastered, dance their ass off, you know—have a good time.” Mack shrugged.
    Searcy put his glass down. “Come on, Mack, I’m not from Rhode Island. This is a hustler bar and everybody knows it. I told you, or you said it—I came in here about Billy Golacinsky. I’m not interested in little boys, no matter how old they are, and I’m not interested in old men who are interested in little boys. Let ’em keep each other company. But I am interested in Billy Golacinsky, because he’s dead. Now, you can talk to me over this bourbon or you can talk to me across the top of my desk at nine o’clock tomorrow morning.”
    â€œWait a minute, Lieutenant, you just didn’t let me get started. Once I get started, you can’t shut me up, but I got to ease into it, that’s all.”
    â€œSorry,” said Searcy grudgingly. “But I’ve been out all day looking for somebody who saw him, and you’re the first one. You had seen him before last night, I take it. You’re the first one who’s called him Billy.”
    â€œBilly came in here four times a week, at least. He was still new in town, said he came from California, but he didn’t even know that San Francisco was north of L.A. Anyway, that’s the kind he was, the kind who would lie about something like that because he thought that being from California, he could charge a higher price. Not very smart.”
    â€œWhat about last night?”
    â€œHe got here about this time. His hair was wet from the snow and he looked awful, so he sat down, on the same stool you’re on, and dried off and warmed up. I was watching him, I felt a little sorry for him. I feel a little sorry for all of ’em. He was in a bad way. He couldn’t decide whether he was cold or drunk or horny or poor or all of ’em put together. But he was definitely in here to get picked up.”
    â€œDid you see him talking to anyone?”
    â€œSort of.”
    â€œWhat does that mean?”
    â€œWell, there was this older guy who started sending beers over to the kid. Got him pretty drunk before he went over to him. Cheap trick, but it works like gold.”
    â€œWho was this guy? The one buying the drinks?”
    â€œNever saw him before.”
    â€œWell then, what did he look like?”
    Mack turned halfway on the stool, and discreetly pointed across the room at the line of tables. “See that man? He looked like him.”
    â€œWhich one?” demanded Searcy. “Which one are you pointing at?”
    â€œI’m pointing at all of ’em,” said Mack. “They’re all after the same thing. They all have the same expression. And they all look alike.”
    â€œYeah, but you said he was buying beers from you for Golacinsky. He must have come up to the bar a few times.”
    â€œHe was short,” said Mack, “and he had white hair, or gray hair maybe. I’m not sure. It wasn’t dyed. Clean shaven.”
    Searcy sighed. “What was he wearing?”
    â€œA dark overcoat. He never checked it.”
    â€œWhat color?”
    â€œBlack. Brown. Dark green. How can you tell under these lights? A double-knit leisure suit. It looked like it had come off the rack about an hour before, that big place on the South Shore that advertises on Channel 56. He looked South Shore, deep South Shore. Sharon maybe, or Randolph.”
    Searcy glared at Mack suspiciously. “You talked to him, didn’t you?”
    Mack shook his head. “It’s just a feeling.”
    â€œDid they leave together?”
    â€œI’m not sure. But I would say yes, if I had to. Daisy Mae