Jay looked at him. “Hey, soak,” he said, “anythin’ left for me?”
Benny got hastily to his feet. “Am I glad to see you?” he said, shaking hands vigorously. “Sure, have a drink. I’ll get you a glass.”
Jay pushed him back into the chair. “I’ll get it,” he said. “You take it easy.”
When he came back from the kitchen, holding a glass, Benny had just given himself a long shot.
“Wait a minute,” Jay said hastily, taking the bottle away. “You’ve got to keep sober for a while.” He poured himself out two fingers and sat down on the edge of the table. “Listen, buddy, I want to talk to you.”
Benny shook his head. “I can’t stand any more of it,” he said. “Those cops have been making my conk buzz.”
“Never mind about the cops. You an’ me’ve got a job of work to do. You want to find your wife, don’t you?”
“Why, goddamn it, of course I do.”
“All right, then. Now listen. You don’t know anythin’ about how a murder is investigated. Well, I do. I’ve been watchin’ these guys. They’re puttin’ on a front. They don’t want to find out who killed Mendetta. They don’t want to find out where your wife is. So they fool around, ask a lot of bull questions and then leave it at that. Maybe they’ll forget all about you.”
Benny sobered. “That’s cock−eyed,” he said. “It’s their job to find out things like that.”