He followed it up with a phone call, telling me he happened to be in my hood, and would come to me this time.
“ ‘Hood,’ Tony?” I said.
“Cultural expression,” he said, “from bygone days, even though I took this boy out the hood a long time ago.”
“To what do I owe the honor?”
“Got a girl I put up at the Newbury,” he said. “She’s not my primary, understand, my primary is the one I got living with me presently. But the one at the hotel, she’s worked her way up through the farm system. I’m right around the corner, is my point.”
“I was starting to worry there might not be a point coming along anytime soon. Or ever.”
“You want my fucking help or not?” he said.
I asked what kind of tea he liked. He said he didn’t need any damn tea, but if a woman identifying herself as Shirelle happened to check in with me later, I was to tell her that Tony and I had been working together on something all night and into this morning.
“You do that, we square.”
“Seriously?”
“I still got a lot to live for,” he said. “And Shirelle can be a bad sport.”
He came into the office without either Junior or Ty-Bop. I assumed that Junior had driven and Ty-Bop had walked Tony from the car into my building. Now the two of them were probably downstairs arguing about the president’s tax plan.
I would have thought Tony would be once again dressed to the nines, but with him the number always seemed on the low side. Navy suit today, perfectly tailored, a big-knotted tie whose brand I knew I should know but didn’t. Whatever had happened last night with the woman at the Ritz who wasn’t his primary, Tony still looked as fresh as freshly cut flowers. There was suddenly a scent in the room that reminded me of my candle.
“Troy Robinson,” Tony said when he was seated.
“Tell me more,” I said.
“Ain’t much more to tell,” he said. “Worked part-time at the bar. Did some TV and movie work on the side, couple movies shooting here, and some lawyer show. Or maybe was a cop show. Pretty-boy background actor, or so I was told.”
“Told by whom?”
“Don’t ask, don’t tell,” Tony said.
“Pretty sure you stole that,” I said.
“We done?” Tony said. “Other than you handling that business with Shirelle, it ever comes up.”
“The person with whom you spoke,” I said. “Did they have any idea whatever happened to Robinson? I heard he left town suddenly when he left.”
“Catch me up on this here,” Tony said. “Who’s the damn detective here, me or you?”
He stood up. His way of telling me we were done.
“What if Shirelle doesn’t call?” I said.
Tony was looking at his reflection in my window, frowning, leaning slightly forward. I saw him square himself up then, adjusting a knot in his tie that really was as big as my fist. When he was satisfied, he walked over to the door, put his hand on the knob, and stopped.
“Oh, she’ll call, sooner or later,” Tony said. “Girl got herself some serious trust issues.”
“I can’t imagine why,” I said.
When he was gone, I called Zebulon Sixkill in Los Angeles and asked him how good his contacts were in the world of TV and movies.
“Let me count the ways, paleface,” Z said.