Within thirty seconds, Elroy comes back. "Follow me, Beluga. Mike wants a word."

     Beluga and Miller trail Elroy's broad back and they wind up in a poky little office where walls look no stronger than cardboard and a low wattage bulb tries hiding scuff-marks on cheap furniture. Photographs cover the wallpaper - most of them showing a smiling Mike Rand along with unknown entertainers. Rand is tired and resentful behind a desk laden with cash books covered in blue and red ink entries. Most of them are red. Beluga winces as the saxophonist massacres Jazz Me Blues, accompanied by a blaring trumpet man who does not yet know a trumpet has three valves.

     "These are the cops, Mike," Elroy says over the uproar.

     Rand stares at Beluga and takes a longer look at Miller. He shakes his head in mock disbelief, for he already knows why Beluga has arrived. "Harry Beluga! What the hell do you want?"

     Beluga coughs at the foul air. "Get rid of Elroy - then we talk."

     "They ain't paid yet, Mike," Elroy blusters.

     "That's okay. Wait outside."

     Elroy sneers at Beluga and leaves. The office walls shake to the band's offbeat rhythm.

     Rand closes the book he is working on. Now aged forty, owner of the Base Hit fifteen years, he is showing pressure on a veined face where his once-friendly eyes now carry a tormented, cynical look. He nods a head still full of the brown hair of his youth. "Maybe you don't remember me, Beluga, but I recall the days you were patrolman. I hear you're Homicide now."

     Rand's barbed attitude needles Beluga. "I remember you, Mike, and I reckon you hear plenty of things."

     "I know nothing that will interest a cop."

     "How do you know that?" says Miller. "We ain't told you what we want."

     "Okay, so tell me."

     "Somebody murders a guy called Leo at Maxine's place," says Beluga. "Does the name 'Leo' mean anything to you?"

     "Not a thing."

     "That's odd. We get a phone message at Headquarters saying that the Base Hit can give us a lead on the Maxine killing."

     "I don't know where you got that from. We tell cops nothing. We mind our own business. I run a straight joint here."

     Beluga shakes his own head. "Don't give me that. You push drugs; you sell diluted spirits and beer; the sandwiches are a year old, the whole place stinks and you are up to your neck in debt. You will be outa business in a year."

     "A year? You won't last that long, Beluga - because people are gunning for you."

     "Maybe they are, but until they hit the target tell us what you know about Benny Thompson."

     "I never heard of him. No matter how you play it, Beluga, I know nothing. And if you intend sticking around, then it's ten bucks each."

     Detective Miller smiles, "yeah, and if you ain't telling what we should know - then we kick your butt."

     "You will kick my butt?"

     "Yeah," says Beluga. "She's Judo black belt. Within seconds she can have your feet growing from your ears."

     "And that is painful," says Miller.

     "You don't mind if we look around the barflies?" Beluga says. "Maybe somebody will give us a lead on Leo."

     Rand shakes his head. "I doubt it - we hate cops at the Base Hit."


A scrutiny of the bar area's characters gives Beluga no hope of a breakthrough, for most of them are too far gone to string together two or three words. The six-piece jazz group is wasting South Rampart Street Parade and Miller covers her ears at the racket. They head for the stairway, with Elroy escorting them. He stops at the old woman's table, turns to Beluga and says, "Hope you didn't find what you are looking for, cop," then returns through the beaded curtain to the fumes, the eye-stinging smoke and the battered music.

     Beluga tries his luck one more time and asks the old crone if she knows Benny Thompson. She smiles crookedly at Beluga and shows him the middle finger of her left hand.


The Metro City sidewalks are hot under a scorching sun. Miller comments that the sea breeze is refreshing after the foul cellar of the Base Hit. They climb into the Cavalier and Miller asks what does Beluga intend doing now? We visit Maxine, says Beluga. But let's get one thing straight. Why are you talking when I say you should sit back
and observe?

     Miller smiles amiably. "I ain't come from San Diego to stay in the background, Harry. Anyway, I find that when two cops needle one person, we get better results."

     "Take it easy," says Beluga. "We meet two guys at the Base Hit and before I know it, you are threatening them with knuckles. That gets you noticed. I advise you - do not take on Maxine Hayes that way. She holds her own against cops, deadbeats and any other form of riff-raff."


Mike Rand picks up a telephone, dials a number and waits. The receiver says hello. "Beluga swallowed the bait," says Rand. "Maybe you should know there's a young female cop with him. Sandy-colored hair, big build, over six feet tall. She offers to kick my ass. I reckon she could too. Beluga asks about Leo and Benny. I tell 'em nothing. Is there anything else you want me to do?"

     "Not yet. Beluga will come back. We will tell you when. And have Elroy ready. We can use him."

     Rand has no choice but to say 'yes'. When the Mob say jump - you jump.


In mid-afternoon, after parking the Cavalier on a side street, Beluga and Miller approach Fifth and Lime. Beluga gives Miller details of the Maxine murder and still wonders how the killer arrives and departs unseen. Maybe somebody used a rear entrance, says Miller. She suggests they check that out. Beluga agrees. They turn down a wide alley leading to the back of properties on Lime. A trucker, sweating heavily, is unloading beer barrels and crates at Maxine's address. Beluga shows his badge. The trucker nods, he knows of the killing, but he has a job to do. Miller pushes on a door that leads to a hallway. They can hear music from the stage. Beluga passes Maxine's office, comes to another door, shoves it open to reveal the bar quarter.

     Maxine leaves a group of drinkers at a table and comes over. "Hey, what's with you, Harry, coming in from the yard?" Are you and this gal delivering booze or are you just plain lost?"

     "Trying to figure how the killer got in and out without being seen," says Miller.

     "And who are you?"

     Beluga does the introductions.

     "A woman cop," says Maxine. "What will they think of next?"

     "Nice place you have," says Miller. "And the music is good."

     Maxine nods sagely. "Angling for a free drink, huh?"

     "I'm on duty," says Miller.

     Maxine sips at the treble Scotch she is holding. "I'm on duty too. Do you want a drink or don't you?"

     "Like me, she's on duty," says Beluga. "But two glasses of orange juice would go down good."

     "You want orange juice?" Maxine signals to Arthur. "Too much of that stuff turns your hair blue." As Arthur pours juice, Maxine says, "Why are you here again so quick, Harry?"

     "I'm telling Detective Miller about the shooting. We've just come from seeing Mike at the Base Hit club because Headquarters get a call saying we would pick up a lead there on the killing you had."

     Maxine almost chokes on her Scotch. "The Base Hit! Even folks from Skid Row don't go there! Somebody is rousting you - and I'm surprised that Mike Rand is still around. I thought you cops would have nailed him on drugs by now."

     "We had words with him," says Miller, sampling orange juice.

     "That man is a jerk," says Maxine. "I remember visiting his dump when I first came to Met City."

     "Do you recall Elroy?" asks Miller.

     Maxine's eyes shine amusement. "Elroy Brown - about nine feet tall with gorilla muscles? Yeah, I remember him. I was there only ten minutes when a fight starts at the bar. Elroy moves in and flattens six guys by knocking their heads together. Some body hits Elroy's skull with a baseball bat. He never even blinks. That's because his head is six-inch steel plate. Yeah, I sure remember Elroy." She finishes the Scotch. "Got anything more to say? I must share myself with the customers or they get upset. I can't show favoritism here."

     "Just two more things," says Miller. "You heard of a Benny Thompson?"

     "No."

     "You remember the Cedar Hotel on Maple?"

     "I remember Maple getting blasted by Hurricane Susie. It's still the same mess now it was then. But what's with Benny Thompson and the Cedar?"

     Beluga explains the connection to Maxine and as he does so, Miller takes stock of the bar layout. When Beluga is finished, Miller asks Maxine if the rear door is usually unlocked. Only for deliveries, Maxine says. Miller says she suspects the killer came in from the yard. Who has the keys? Maxine reels off three names. They are trusted employees. The Bar is bombproof.

     "But not bullet proof," says Miller. "I don't see how a guy can be shot at the bar, and nobody can describe the gunman."

     Maxine shrugs. "Take it from me, Officer Miller, when bullets are flying - you keep your head down. Now, is there anything else before I blow?"

     "Yeah," says Miller, finishing her orange juice. "The locks to your property - are they new or old?"

     "Old."

     "Replace them," says Miller.

     "I'll do that," says Maxine. She merges with the clientele.



Beluga and Miller stop at the Bar front entrance, having made an arrangement. Traffic is heavy. Miller slips across the street to the sidewalk outside Ed's Eatery. Roscoe Johnson is doing excellent business, and this gorgeous, sandy-haired gal is a winner. "Hi there, babe," says Roscoe stepping in front of her and holding out a ticket. "A beauty gal like you deserves a fifteen percent reduction at Ed's. I confirm you will love every bite you take."

     Beluga makes the sidewalk behind Roscoe and clamps a hand on his shoulder. "Bribing a lady cop is a crime, Roscoe."

     Roscoe is quick - he can add numbers and get the right answer. "Hiya, Harry. You want to introduce my good looks to a lady cop, huh? Who is she?"

     "She is Detective Miller."

     Roscoe grins at her. "One thing I will say, Detective Miller - you are prettier than Harry is." The smile leaves Roscoe's face. He turns to Beluga. "The Mob is looking to buy property around here, including Ed's place and Maxine's Bar."

     "Where did you get that from?" asks Miller.

     "Street talk - I hear the Mob has made offers - cannot tell you more than that. Maybe you should talk to both Ed and Maxine." Roscoe shuffles the tickets. "I've worked here since I was eight - and I don't want to lose my job." He eyes Beluga. "Other things I hear involve you, Harry. The Mob want to buy the Applebank Hotel where your wife is the manager. And - I hear there are loose cannons looking for you."

     "That's our problem," says Miller. "Threats go with the job."