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EXCERPT FROM "THE ELEPHANT TRAP" by DALE FREEMAN The diner was virtually empty. The breakfast crowd had downed their last piece of toast, and the lunch crowd hadn’t gotten there yet. They positioned themselves over coffee, like two champion chess players facing the final round. Rachel made the first move. “So, what do you need, Detective?” “So many things,” he frowned. “A new car. Mine all but blew up the day after the Japs bombed Pearl. Then, I need a raise. Haven’t gotten one in three years.” “Let me rephrase. What do you need with me?” He took a deep breath. “Well, first I’d like to say that you’re a very busy lady.” “I try.” “I mean, you’re running around like a chicken with his head cut off. This research racket must really be something!” “It’s more than pouring through stacks of old books and newspapers, if that’s what you mean.” “That’s it... Exactly. You sometimes get to go out and get some sun. That’s healthy. I think FDR himself would encourage all of us Americans on the home front to stay healthy.” “Listen...” “No, you listen.” He leaned across the table. “Your trip over to Pasadena yesterday.” She was stunned. How would he know anything about that? “How did you...?” “Well, I wasn’t trailin’ you around, I guarantee that. But, you were seen...” “Seen. By whom?” “People. People who’s business it is to watch other people.” “And the people they were watching...” “One particular people was visited by you.” “And...?” “And...I’d stay away from that particular people, if I were you.” “Which you’re not. Me...that is.” He frowned. “You met with a man who used to be...shall we say...one of ‘them’.” “I think the operative phrase is... ‘used to be’.” The waitress paused, refilling their cups. A few newspaper employees filtered in, searching their menus for a special. Morrison leaned back, surveying her like the detective that he was. “What’s your interest in this man? What is he to you, anyways?” “His name came up.” She fought to keep her voice level and calm. “Where and why?” “Am I being interrogated? Like in the movies?” “Do you see a bright light and rubber hose?” “I wish I did. Then I’d know what this is all about.” “Why did you go see him?” “I’ve been doing some background work on the Black Market. You know...” “Yes,” He nodded condescendingly. “I certainly know.” “Well, I’m doing some research on fats. You know...the stuff we keep being told to reclaim and take to the butcher.” He said nothing. His eyes never left hers. She refused to be the first to blink. “And his name was in a file. Nothing much. It just interested me. His being in the theater...and the side track through the anatomical institute. Strange combination.” “Nothing more?” “No. Not really.” “Did he give you any information?” “No. It was basically a dead end.” He reached across the table and took her hand. “Listen. Don’t go back. This man is under suspicion.” “Like all Germans and Japanese these days.” “More than that. He left the Nazis as a ‘dissatisfied’ employee. He knows things that people would like to know more about.” She pulled away. “All right. Like I told you, it was pretty much a dead end.” “Good.” He smiled and drained his cup. “One other thing. What am I going to have to do to catch your neighbor at home?” “Mrs. Wilson?” “I’ve tried every day. Does she work?” “I don’t think so. I don’t know her very well.” Rachel remembered the picture hanging in the hallway of the theater, and realized ironically that she had just made a gross understatement. “What about her husband?” “I don’t know anything about him. I’ve never seen him. She said that he was away on business.” “What about when their girl got cut up? Too busy?” “I just supposed that he had come back.” “Not as near as we can tell.” Rachel stood, digging into her bag. “This one is on me,” she grinned. “I owe you one. After this our dates will have to be ‘dutch treat’.” She walked away, aware of his gaze transfixed on her. She didn’t look back. |
Copyright ©2001 Dale Freeman. All rights reserved.