The Mike Hammer Collection

I told Pat I’d see him sometime after lunch, walked him downstairs, left a key with the super, and gave him a fin for his trouble. Pat went on downtown and I hopped a cab across town to Annette Lee’s place, got the landlady to let me in, and stepped into her living room.

The old gal was still in her rocker, still going through that same perpetual rhythm, stopping only when her chair had inched against another piece of furniture. Her curtains were drawn back, letting in the early light, and she smiled a big hello when she saw me.

“How nice of you to come back, young man,” she said. She held out her hand without getting up and I took it. “Sit down, please.”

I tossed my hat on a table and pulled up another straight-back chair and perched on the end of it.

“Your young lady was here yesterday. We had a lovely visit. It isn’t often I get company, you know.”

I said, “She mentioned you wanted to see me.”

“Yes.” Annette Lee nodded, then leaned her head back against the chair with her eyes half shut. “We were talking. I . . .” She waved her hand vaguely in front of her face. “Sometimes I forget things. I’m going on ninety now. I think I’ve lived too long already.”

“You never live too long.”

“Perhaps so. I can still enjoy things. I can dream. Do you dream, Mr. . . . ?”

“Hammer.”

“Mr. Hammer. Do you dream?”

“Sometimes.”

“You’re not old enough to dream back like I do. It’s something like being reborn. I like to dream. They were good days then. I dream about them because they’re all I have to dream about. Yes, they were fine days.”

“What was it you wanted to tell me, Miss Lee?” I asked her gently.

“Oh?” She thought a moment, then: “There was something. Your young lady and I talked about Sally and Sue. Yes, that was it. Dear Sally, she was so lovely. It was a pity she died.”

“Miss Lee . . .”

“Yes?”

“The night she died . . . do you remember it well?”

“Oh yes. Oh yes indeed.” Her rocking slowed momentarily so she could shift positions, then started again.

“Was she drunk, really drunk?”

“Dear me, yes. Sally drank all the time. From very early in the morning. There was nothing I could do so I tried to keep her company and talk to her. She didn’t want to talk too much, you know. When she did it was drunk talk I couldn’t always understand. Do you know what I mean?”

“I’ve heard it.”

“There was that thing with the snakes you mentioned. It was rather an obsession with her.”

“She was frightened of the snake?”

Annette Lee lifted her head and peered at me. “No, that was the strange thing. She wasn’t afraid. It was . . . well, she hated it.”

“Was the snake a person?”

“Excuse me?”

“Could she have been referring to a person as The Snake? Not snakes or a snake. The Snake.”

The rocking stopped completely. She looked at me curiously in the semi-darkened room, her fingertip touching her lips. “So that was what she meant.”

“Go on.”

“No wonder I didn’t understand. My goodness, never understood in all this time. Yes, she said the snake. It was always the snake. She hated the snake, that was why she wanted to live so far away from the city. She never wanted to go back.”

“Annette . . . who was Sue’s father?”

The old girl made a face at me and raised the thin line of her eyebrows. “Does it matter?”

“It might.”

“But I’m afraid I couldn’t tell you.”

“Why not?”

“Simply because I don’t know. Sue has Sally’s maiden name, you know. She never got her father’s name because she doesn’t know who he is. I’m afraid Sally was . . . a bit promiscuous. She had many men and among them would be Sue’s father. I doubt if Sally ever really knew either. A pity. Sue was such a lovely baby.”

“Could it have been Blackie Conley?”

For the first time Annette Lee giggled. “Dear no. Not him. Never Blackie.”

“Why?”

“Simply because he wasn’t capable. I think that was one of the reasons Blackie was so . . . so frustrated. He did like the ladies, you know. He slept with one after the other. He even married two of them but it never worked out. He always wanted an heir but he wasn’t capable. Why . . . the boys used to kid him about it.”

Her feet pushed harder until she had to edge the chair away from the wall so that she faced me more directly. “Do you ever remember Bud Packer?”

“Just the name.”

“Bud was . . . joshing him one day about his . . . impotence and Blackie shot him. You know where. I think Blackie did time for that but I don’t rightly remember. No, Blackie was not Sue’s father by any means. Besides, you’re forgetting one big thing.”

I let her say it.

“Blackie’s been gone . . . for years. Long before Sue was born. Blackie is dead somewhere.”

She put her head back and closed her eyes. I said, “Tired?”

“No, just thinking. Daydreaming.”

“How about this angle . . . could Sim Torrence have been the father? ”

Her giggle broke into a soft cackle only the old can make. “Sim Torrence? I’m afraid not. Sue was born before they were married.”

“He could still be the father.”

“You don’t understand, Mr. . . .”

“Hammer.”