Felix a Filipino?” She nodded.
I made a large mental note. As far as I was concerned that was the No. 1 fact so far in the whole business. I decided to forego subtlety for a moment and see how much more I could find out.
“Did you love him?” I asked.
“Fer cryin’ out loud,” Billy scolded, “can’t ye keep yer elephant feet off the poor girl’s feelin’s?”
“It’s all right, Billy,” she said.
“Did you love him?” I repeated.
“I don’t know. I—I’m mixed up.”
“How long did you know him?”
“About a year.”
“When did you become engaged?”
That one bothered her. Her blue eyes glanced down at her shoes and then out the open door.
“Two days ago. On my birthday.”
I looked at the third finger of her left hand. “Didn’t he give you a ring?”
That one bothered her too. “He was as short of money. He said I’d get the ring later this week.”
“And what did he give you for your birthday?”
Instead of replying, she plucked a balled-up Kleenex from her purse and dabbed at her eyes.
I decided I needed to know a lot more about an alleged fiancé who wouldn’t award a delectable doll like Ti-lo either a ring or a birthday present.
I gave her what I hoped was a gentle look. “Can you handle a few more questions or do you want me to shut up?”
“She wants ye to shut up,” Billy said.
“Kindly keep your nose out of this,” I told him.
“It’s all right, Billy,” she said. “Mr. Pools trying to help.”
“Call me Lew,” I said.
She didn’t change her expression. “You wanted to ask me something else?”
“Yes. Do you have any idea why anyone would want to kill Felix? And why they would risk doing it in jail?”
She shook her head.
“Do you think there’s any connection between his death and the firecracker?”
She shook her head again and her glossy black pony tail danced.
“One last question,” I said. “Did you ever hear of a Filipino called Kreena?”
I waited anxiously for her answer to that one, far more anxiously than she could ever guess.
“Who?” she said.
I spelled it out for her. “K-r-e-e-n-a.”
Once more the pony tail shimmered as she shook her head.
“No,” she said. “Do you think he killed Felix?”
“I doubt it,” I said. “I just thought I’d ask.”
We sat for another minute without speaking, occupied with our individual thoughts. Billy took the can of warm beer off my desk, drank half of it and made a face.
“Delicious,” he said. “But niverth’liss, Mr. Pool, I’d like to know when ye’ll be a puttin’ in the refrigerator.”
“Niver,” I replied.
“Warm beer’s bad fer me,” he complained. He coughed pitifully into his woolly cap, but for him it wasn’t much of a cough, sounding no worse than a leaky inner tube being blown up by a leaky tire pump.
Ti-lo rose from the divan and walked to the doorway. For a thoughtful moment, she looked across the street at the cop shop.
She came back to the desk and looked directly into my eyes.
“What are you going to do about it?” she asked.
“About what?”
“About Felix?”
“What can I do?”
“You’re a detective, aren’t you?”
It was my turn to do a little head shaking. “I’m not a detective and I have no desire to be one. I’m a bail bondsman and it’s a nice, safe business and I want to keep it that way.”
“You mean you won’t even try to find out what happened?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Then you will find out what happened to Felix?”
“I’ll try.”
“Will you want some money? I have a little.”
I shook my head again. “Let’s not let commercialism intrude into what could be a beautiful friendship. Besides, I don’t mail my bills out till the last week of the month.”
“Billy, how about getting the details on what happened to Felix?”
Ti-lo pouted prettily. “You won’t go yourself?”
“I’d rather stay here with you,” I said. “You look like you still need comforting.”
“Watch him, miss, when he starts that comfortin’ routine,” Billy warned as he walked out the doorway. Suddenly he turned and beckoned to me.
I followed him and this time we stood far enough away from the door so she couldn’t overhear.
“Ye know I’ll be no good over there,” Billy said. “I’m okay at gettin’ th’ drunks out but I don’t know nuthin’ about dead men and I’m not wantin’ to know.”
I scowled at him. “You know damn well I can’t go.”
“Sure and maybe ye better,” he said. “Sure and how d’ye think ye’ll ever be gettin’ cured if ye don’t meet it head on?”
“I don’t think so,” I said.
He tapped me vigorously on the chest. “And what about Kreena? Ain’t this the first good opportunity ye’ve had? With two Chinamen in the case already, ye might well run into a few more.”
“Filipinos,” I corrected. “And I suppose you’re right.”
“Tis as clear as Mrs. McCarthy’s wash water.” He shoved me in the general direction of the cop shop. “Don’t worry about it—don’t even think about it—and ye’ll be all right.”
I
