Phillip Nagle was a slight, dark man in his late thirties. A pointed nose and chin gave him a pinched look, as if he were in pain. His hair was thin and drifted over his forehead in separate strands. The glasses he wore were the aviator type, rose-tinted. Usually he dressed in finely tailored sports jackets and slacks, but on this day he was in worn jeans and a faded Ralph Lauren polo shirt. On his feet were worn Topsiders with no socks. He had a fairly successful insurance agency and had gotten himself elected to the Village Board the year before. Many people in Seaville called him a sleaze ball behind his back.
Colin sat across from the man, thinking he looked like a murderer and wondering why he'd never seen it before. Nagle hadn't said a word yet, but Colin was sure the guy was here to confess. He offered him a cigarette. Nagle took one with a shaking hand.
Colin settled back in his chair. "So what about Gloria Danowski?"
"This is off the record, right?"
"Right."
"I don't know how to start."
"Did you kill her?"
Nagle's eyes widened behind the glasses. He looked like an owl. "No. Hey, no. That's why I'm here. I don't want anybody thinking I did. I mean… see… shit!" He looked at his cigarette as if he didn't know how it had gotten into his hand, and put it in the black ashtray. "Mind if I smoke a joint?"
"Yes."
"Huh?"
"I mind if you smoke a joint."
"How come?"
"I'm an old-fashioned guy. I don't like people smoking joints at my place of business."
"What if I said I wanted a drink? You newspaper guys all drink. You wouldn't care if I wanted a drink, would you?"
"Yes."
"No, you wouldn't, and it's the same thing."
"Did you come here to debate the marijuana-liquor issue or do you want to tell me about Gloria Danowski?"
"Yeah, Gloria," Nagle said, picking up the cigarette.
"Did you know her?"
Nagle nodded. "I was fucking her."
Colin knew Nagle was married and had three kids. "Tell me about it."
Nagle grinned stupidly. "She gave good head."
"Jesus. I didn't mean the sex, Nagle. I don't give a shit about that." Colin pulled at his mustache, worked an end between his fingers. "Tell me what you came in here to tell me, for Christ's sake."
"Okay, okay. I thought you meant--I met her at Southampton College last fall. We were both taking a course in Advanced Accounting-she was thinking about going back to work. Anyway, we, you know, got to talking before and after class. I took her for a drink one night. She was a good-looking broad. Nice jugs."
Colin hated guys who talked about women that way. "Spare me the details, okay?" He wanted to bust Nagle in his weasel face.
"What's the matter, don't you like pussy?"
"I'm losing my patience, Nagle. Maybe you want me to call Chief Hallock, huh?"
"All right, all right." He took a long drag of the cigarette, blew a stream of smoke in front of him. "In the second semester we both pretend we're going to some class, but we don't. We start this thing. Every Tuesday night. I'd meet her in the parking lot, she'd leave her car, we'd go to a motel, fuck our brains out, then I'd take her back to her car. She'd go home, I'd go home. So everything goes along as usual, then about four weeks ago I read in the paper she disappeared. See, it was the night I'd seen her. The last I know I take her back to the car, we say goodnight. That's it. But sooner or later somebody's gonna remember we were real friendly in that class and maybe put two and two together, see?"
"What two and two?"
"That I knew her. That maybe I knew her pretty well. And then they're gonna be on my ass."
"Did you see her drive off that night?"
"No. I saw her get in her car, but I left before she did. They found the car in the lot."
"What do you think happened to her?"
"Beats me."
"Did she ever mention anything to you about somebody hating her or wanting to kill her?"
"No."
"How about her husband?"
"What about him?"
"What'd she say about him?"
"Not much. Just that he was a drag and couldn't get it up."
"Did she ever say that her husband might suspect?"
"No."
"Do you think he did?"
"How should I know?"
"Do you think he killed her?"
Nagle took some time, thinking what he should say. Colin knew the guy was weighing whether or not to put the finger on the husband.
"I don't know," Nagle said.
"Did Gloria ever say that Danowski was violent?"
"No."
"Did she have any other boyfriends?"
"She didn't need any," he gloated.
"But did she have any?"
"No."
"Not that you know of."
"Right."
"How about before you?"
"No. I was the first."
"Are you sure?"
"That's what she said."
"Okay. So what do you want from me?"
He shrugged. "Advice. What do you think I should do?"
"Tell Chief Hallock."
"Are you crazy?"
"That's my advice. Tell him before he tells you. If you're innocent, you have nothing to worry about."
"I'm innocent. But what if it gets out? I mean, I'm telling you this off the record, but I can't keep Hallock from spreading the word. I've got a wife and three kids."
"And you're a member of the board." Colin knew which was more important to Phil Nagle.
"Yeah, that, too."
"You don't have a choice. You have to tell Hallock. If you're innocent, he won't spread it around about you. He's not like that."
"Listen, you've only been in town what, five, six weeks? You don't know what shits people can be."
"Why'd you come to me if there's so much I don't know?"
"I'm beginning to wonder myself. I thought you looked like a decent guy."
When you start getting compliments from a sleaze ball, Colin thought, it's time to worry.
"What are you going to do with what I told you?" Nagle said.
"Nothing. I don't have to. The connections will be made soon enough. Then you'll really look suspicious, Nagle. Can you prove you didn't kill her?"
"Of course not. I thought I was innocent until proven guilty."
"Where'd you hear that?" Colin stubbed out his cigarette, lit another. "And if I remember correctly, you're not exactly a Gildersleeve fan, are you?"
"He's an asshole."
"That's what I mean. If you keep this information to yourself, when they finally get onto you it's going to be more than putting two and two together. More like two and three. Do you think Hallock doesn't know how you feel about Gildersleeve?"
"Fuck. I don't know."
"Well, what did you think I'd tell you to do?"
"I don't know. I guess I thought you'd say I had nothing to worry about. I don't know." He took off his glasses, wiped them with the bottom of his shirt.
"Hallock might give you a hard time for awhile, until he's sure you didn't do it, but he's not going to book you. On the other hand, if you don't go to him on your own, if you wait until he has to pick you up, then he's going to make you wish you'd been in that pool instead of Gloria. Me, too."
"What's that mean?"
"It means if he arrests you on his own, then you're fair game."
"Shit."
"Up to your neck."
Nagle put back his glasses. "Okay. I'll do it."
"Good."
"See you," he said and started to leave.
"Hey, Nagle?"
"Yeah?"
"What do you feel about Gloria Danowski being murdered?"
"Feel?"
"Right, feel."
"I don't know. I feel bad, I guess. She was a good lay."
Colin was glad Nagle left quickly; he wanted to clobber him.
He had always hated fighting, even though he was pretty good at it. The first real fistfight he'd had was in grade school when the public school kids picked on the Catholics. He'd knocked Freddy Martin's two front teeth out, and Colin's father had had to pay for Freddy's bridge. In junior high he was always getting into fights, but in high school he managed to stay clear of them, using up his aggression on the football field. In college he never fought anyone. He talked his way out of things because he just didn't have the heart for fighting. By then he knew it was pointless. After college it never came up-except that once-but he couldn't remember it and didn't even know if he'd won or not.
Still, guys like Nagle made him remember and understand the pleasure of smashing a fist into a face, feeling knuckles against teeth, splitting lips open. He hoped Hallock gave Nagle a bad time, hoped he scared the shit out of him.
Colin smiled thinking about Nagle: knees knocking together, hands too shaky to hold a butt. He deserved anything he got. But he believed Nagle was innocent. So, who did it then? The husband could've found out about his wife's affair and killed her, but it wasn't likely. With that kind of murder, he would've broken down by now if he'd done it. Nobody knew that better than Colin did. Jesus. Everything always came back to that. He turned to his typewriter, stared at the piece of paper still there from the night before.