In the morning Ness left the key to his room on the front desk and crossed Water Street and bought a paper and went into Deb’s Café for his breakfast. It had rained the night before but it was very bright now and the streets were smoking. He took a seat near the window and the sunlight winked on the car hoods. Set his hat in the booth beside him and brushed his hair down. A waitress came and stood with arms akimbo. A pleasant look on her face as though she knew him.
Well, she said. How you?
She was maybe forty-five years old with dyed auburn hair pulled up, a powder-blue uniform, and a white apron over the front of her skirt. He ordered eggs and toast and when he finished he went to the counter to pay. He pulled out his wallet and tapped the bills laid on the glasstop and slid them over. He said, Is there a good barber in town?
Of course, sweetheart, she said. Ralph Lander.
I’d be obliged if you could point me in that direction.
Jest down Water there. On the corner.
Does he do manicures?
Heavens no, she said. He don’t have no manicurist. She reached for his hand and turned it over and held his fingertips and examined his nails. I wouldn’t worry about that, though. She winked, sliding his change over the counter.
Thank you . . . Millie, Ness said, leaning in to read her name tag. I like that name.
He left a dollar on the glass for her.
Yeh come back, she said.
You’ll see me again.
That a promise?
It’s the only thing I seem to make, Ness said, and he winked at her as he went out.
Ness went down Water Street. The air was thick and smelled like cows. He passed a newspaper rack and glanced at the front page and backpedaled and squatted down to read the headline.
Hmm, he said.
He fished several coins from his pocket and opened the glass door. Standing on the sidewalk, he read the entire article about William Rose and Hannah Dahl. When he finished it, he said Hmm again and folded up the story and tossed the rest of the paper in trash.
Further on, Ness opened the door at Lander’s Barbershop. A small silver bell called over the door. Lander was sitting in the only chair reading the paper. He stood when Ness entered, folding the paper and setting it on the table under the mirror next to the combs and scissors and bottles of aftershave and pomade.
Yes sir, Lander said. Can I do for yeh?
Shave and a shine, Ness said. You don’t do manicures?
No sir. Jest cuts and shaves. No shines neither.
Ness nodded. Hung his hat on a coat-tree. Laid his jacket aside and climbed into the chair. He turned his head to the left and right as though he couldn’t make up his mind.
Lander was in his fifties. A small man with black and gray hair, a green tattoo on his forearm from his days in the service. Navy, Lander said, catching Ness eyeing it. He swept a faded yellow apron over Ness and tied it around his neck.
You serve? Lander asked.
Me? Oh sure.
Helluva theater, Lander said.
Some bad actors.
Ha! Lander said. I like that. Bad actors. You betcha. So what’re we doin here?
Just a shave will be fine, Ness said.
Lander turned his head. Think yeh need a trim, son. Gettin shaggy round the ears. Trim to match the shave?
All right.
Hold on there a minute, Lander said. He came back with a steaming towel and wrapped it about Ness’s face and tilted back the chair and spun him away from the mirror. Ness closed his eyes and listened to the razor on the strop.
Supposin yeh heard bout that girl they found? Lander asked.
Ness spoke through the towel. That’s why I’m here.
You wouldn’t happen to be that detective the sheriff called in?
Edward Ness.
Ralph Lander. Nice to meet yeh.
Lander removed the towel and lathered a brush in a warm eucalyptus-scented cream. Painted his face with it and then gently stripped it away with the razor.
Creepy stuff, Lander said. Some maniac on the loose.
Mmm.
When he was finished, Lander flung away the apron and spun the chair toward the mirror.
Damn fine sight yeh are, son, Lander said, brushing off his shoulders with a hand broom.
Thank you, Ness said. He looked down at his shoes. Wouldn’t complain to a shine.
I’d give yeh one if I could, Lander said. Then he helped Ness on with his jacket. That’ll be a dollar twenty.