He went to the cabinet for a tube of prefabricated lather, got some on me, and started rubbing. “We sure did,” he said with feeling. “Carl, you know Carl, he killed a man in Tina’s booth. Then they both ran. I’m sorry for Tina, she was all right, but Carl, I don’t know.” He moved to my left cheek.
I couldn’t articulate with him rubbing. He finished, went to wipe his fingers, and came with the razor. I rolled my head into position, to the left, and remarked, “I’d sort of watch it, Ed. It’s a little risky to go blabbing that Carl killed him unless you can prove it.”
“Well, he had fits.” The razor was as sharp and slick as usual. “What did he run for?”
“I couldn’t say. But the cops are still poking around here, even an inspector.”
“Sure they are, they’re after evidence. You gotta have evidence.” Ed pulled the skin tight over the jawbone. “For instance, they ask me did he show me anything or ask me anything about some article from the shop. I say he didn’t. That would be evidence, see?”
“Yes, I get it.” I could only mumble. “What did he ask you?”
“Oh, all about me, name, married or single — you know, insurance men, income tax, they all ask the same things. But when he asked about last night I told him where to get off, but then I thought what the hell and told him. Why not? That’s my philosophy, Mr. Goodwin — why not? It saves trouble.”
He was prying my chin up, doing the throat. That clean, I rolled my head to the right to turn the other cheek.
“Of course,” he said, “the police have to get it straight, but they can’t expect us to remember everything. When he came in first he talked with Fickler, maybe five minutes. Then Fickler took him to Tina’s booth, and he talked with Tina. After that Fickler sent Philip in, and then Carl and then Jimmie and then Tom and then me and then Janet. I think it’s pretty good to remember that.”
I mumbled agreement. He was at the corner of my mouth.