Chapter 31 Chapter Thirty-One

We get in the car and leave the converted fire station.I sat in the back and Chance drove with his driver's hat on.He stopped a few blocks away and put his hat back in the glove box in the front seat.I sat in the front seat with him.The commuting traffic had almost cleared by this time, and we drove all the way to Manhattan, much more silent than before.We are a little distant at the moment, as if because the conversation just now exceeded the limit of intimacy we both expected. The front desk did not leave a message.I went upstairs and changed and was about to go out when I turned back and took my .30 from the dresser.Is it necessary to carry a pistol that I can't seem to fire?Like not, but I put it in my pocket anyway.

I went downstairs to buy a paper, and went around the corner without thinking twice.Grab a table at the Armstrong Bar.My old desk in the corner.Trina came over and said it had been a while, and I ordered a cheeseburger, a small salad, and coffee. As she walked toward the kitchen, I suddenly had a flash of a martini, pure and dry and cold in a goblet.I can see it, I can smell the juniper berries.And the intense aroma of squeezed lemon juice.I can feel the comfort after drinking it in one gulp. Jesus, I thought. The urge to drink went as fast as it came, and I think it was probably a reflex, a natural reaction to the atmosphere at Armstrong's bar.I have been drinking here for a long time, and I was kicked out last time when I was drunk, and I didn't even enter the threshold again.

I would think of drinking as a matter of course, but that doesn't mean I really have to order one. I finish my dinner and refill my coffee.After reading the papers, I paid the bill, left a tip, and then it was time to go to St. Paul's Church. Testimony is the alcoholic version of "The American Dream."The speaker was a poor kid from Worcester, Mass., who worked his way through college, worked his way up to the job of vice president of a television company, and then ruined it all with alcohol.He fell all the way down, down to booze at Pershing Plaza in Los Angeles.Then he joined Alcoholics Anonymous, and life went back to normal.

It would be very encouraging if I could manage to pay attention.It's just that my mind keeps wandering.I thought about Sunny's funeral, and what Chance had said, and I found myself turning the case around, trying to figure it out. Fuck it, it's all there, I'm just not looking at it the right way. Discussion time, I left before my turn to speak.I don't even want to be named tonight.I walked back to the hotel, trying to fight off the urge to sit in Armstrong's bar. I called Durkin and he wasn't there.I hung up without leaving my name and called Jane's place.

No one answered.Well, she might still be partying.And after the meeting, she is used to drinking coffee, and she may not be home until eleven o'clock. I could have waited until the party was over and had coffee with everyone.I can still join them now.The Cobb store they patronized was actually not far away. I think about it or forget it, in fact, I don't really want to go. I picked up a book but couldn't read it.Throwing the book away, I undress, go into the bathroom, and turn on the shower.But Lao Yao, why do I need a shower?I just rushed through in the morning, and the most strenuous thing I've done all day is watch Chance lift weights.What the hell am I doing in the shower?

I turned off the water and put on my clothes. — Stick School · E Book Group — Jesus Christ.I feel like a lion in a cage.I pick up the receiver. I wanted to call Chance, but you can't call that lady directly, you have to call his service office first, and then wait for him to call back. I'm not in the mood right now.I called Jane, she was still not there, then I called Durkin.I couldn't find him this time, so I decided not to leave a message. Maybe he was drinking with some cops at the store on Tenth Avenue.I wanted to go there and look for him, and then it dawned on me: I wasn't looking for Durkin, I was looking for a grand excuse to step through the door of the bar with my feet on the brass railing.

I'm afraid their bar doesn't even have a copper railing?I close my eyes and try to remember what the place was like, and after a while it all comes back; the smell of spilled wine, and stale beer and urine, that dank tavern smell that feels right at home. If I go to Durkin's place, I'm sure to drink.If I went to Farrell, Polly or Armstrong, I would still drink it too.If I stay in the room, I'll go crazy; if I go crazy, I'll get out of those four walls, and what will I do next?I'd go to a bar, whatever it was, and drink. I forced myself to stay in the room.I have survived the eighth day, and there is no reason why I cannot survive the ninth day.I sat there looking at my watch from time to time, and sometimes a whole minute went by without me looking at it.Finally at eleven o'clock, I went downstairs to hail a taxi.

The Moravian Church at Thirty Street and Lexington Avenue had a midnight service every day.The doors opened an hour before the meeting, and I went there to find a chair, and poured a cup of coffee when it was ready. I didn't pay attention to witnesses or discussions.I just sit there.Make yourself feel safe.There were a lot of people in the room who had recently decided to change their minds, and many of them were having a very difficult time.Otherwise, what are they doing here at this time? Some hadn't started drinking yet, and one of them was kicked out of the meeting, but the others stayed out of trouble.Just a roomful of poor souls wanting an extra hour.

When the time came, I helped to fold up the chairs and clear the ashtray.A chair-folding person next to me introduced himself as Kevin and asked me how long I had been quitting.I told him it was my ninth day. "Great," he said. "Go on." They talk the same way. I went out and signaled to a passing taxi, but when he turned around and started to slow down to a stop, I changed my mind and waved him off.The engine thumped as he drove away. I don't want to go back. I walked north across Seven Streets to Kim's building, tricked the concierge there, and went straight into her apartment, which I knew had a full cabinet of wine but didn't bother me.Last time I had to dump the "wild turkey" down the sink for peace of mind, but not this time.

I went to the bedroom and rummaged through her jewelry, but didn't really look for the green ring.I picked up her ivory bracelet.Unclasp and try on wrist.too small.I got some paper towels from the kitchen, carefully wrapped the bracelet and put it in my pocket. Maybe Jane would like it.I pictured her wearing it several times—in her attic, at funerals. If she doesn't like it, just don't wear it. I picked up the receiver, the phone was still on.I think it's just a matter of time.Like this apartment has to be cleaned sooner or later.The gold things have to be removed too.But for the time being it was business as usual, as if she had just gone out and never returned.

I hung up the phone without dialing.At about three o'clock, I took off my clothes and lay down on her bed to sleep.I didn't change the sheets, and I could still smell her faintly, as if she was in the same room as me. I didn't toss and turn because of this, I just fell asleep. When I woke up, I was in a cold sweat, convinced that I solved the crime in my dream.Just forgot the answer.I shower, get dressed, and get out of there. I had several messages at my hotel, all from Mary Lou Buck.She called shortly after I left the night before, and the other calls that morning. When I called, she said, "I've been looking for you for a long time. I wanted to call your girlfriend, but I can't remember her last name." "Her phone isn't registered." And I'm not there, I thought, but said nothing. "I'm looking for Chance," she went on. "I thought you might know where he was." "We broke up around seven o'clock last night. What's the matter?" "Can't reach him. The only way I know is to call his service—" "me too." "Oh, I thought you might have a special number." "Only in the service department." —Mallhammer School·E Book Group— "I called. He always calls back. I've left countless messages, but he never responded." "Has this ever happened before?" "It hasn't been that long. I started looking for him yesterday afternoon. What time is it, eleven o'clock? It's been more than seventeen hours now. It's not that long since he calls the service." I think back to our conversation at his house.The time we were together.Has he inquired about his service office?I don't think so. When we were together, he would call every half hour. "And it wasn't just me," she said. "He didn't call Fran either. I asked her, and she was looking for him, but he never called." "Where's Donna?" "She's here with me. We don't want to be alone. Um, and Ruby, I don't know where Ruby is, she's not answering the phone." "She's in San Francisco." "Where is she?" I probably explained it to her, and heard her pass it on to Donna. "Donna quotes a poem by Yeats," she told me, "'Everything falls apart, the center no longer holds together.' She quotes a poem I can finally understand." "I'm trying to find Chance." "Call me if you find it?" "certainly." "Donna intends to stay with me. We are temporarily closed to accepting customers and not opening the door. I have told the concierge not to let people come up." "very good." "I invited Fran to my place, but she won't. Sounds like she's on a lot of drugs. I want to call her again, but I won't invite her this time. I'm going to order her to come right away." "good idea." "Donna said the three little pigs were hiding in the brick house, waiting for the wolf to come down the chimney. I wish she'd just talked about Yeats." I called his phone service, to no avail.They were happy to pass on a message for me, but would not say whether Chance had contacted them in the past day or two. "I think he'll call soon," one woman told me. "I'll take your message." I called Brooklyn Inquiries and got the number of his house in Green Point. I dialed the number.Let it ring twelve times.I remember him saying he had taken the ring off the phone and just thought it was worth a try. I call Parker Bennett, whose auction of African and Oceanian Arts and Crafts is scheduled to start at two o'clock. I showered, shaved, ate a roll, drank coffee, and read the newspaper. The Post tried a way to keep the Hotel Ripper on its front page, but it was far-fetched.In the Bedford Park area of ​​the Bronx, a man stabbed his wife three times with a kitchen knife before turning himself in to the police.Such stories are usually worth two paragraphs at most, but The Post put it on the front page with the provocative headline: "The Hotel Ripper Inspired Him?" I went to the twelve-thirty party and arrived at Parker Bennett a few minutes after two. The auction room is not the room where the auction items were originally displayed. You must buy a five-yuan auction catalog to be seated.I indicated that I was just looking for a friend while I went around the room.Chance is not here. Unless I bought a catalog, the service staff wouldn't allow me to wander there. Thinking about arguing with him, it would be better to buy it to save trouble, so I had to take out five yuan.As a result, the name was registered and a bidding number was also obtained.I don't want a registration, I don't want a bid number, I don't want a fucking directory. I sat there for about two hours, one lot after another being hammered away.By two-thirty, I was pretty much sure he wouldn't show up, but I stayed where I was because I couldn't think of anything else to do.I didn't pay much attention to the auction process. I looked around every few minutes, looking for Chance.The bronze statue of the Kingdom of Benin came on stage at 3:40 and was finally sold for 65,000 yuan, only slightly higher than the estimated price.This was the climax of the entire auction, and many people left immediately after the bronze statue was sold.I knew he wasn't coming, but I stayed a few minutes longer, just trying to figure out what I've been trying to figure out for days. I feel as if I have all the pieces and now it's just a question of how to put them together. gold.Gold rings and a gold ermine coat. Cojones. Maricon. Towels.warn.Calderon.Sweetheart Blue. I got up to leave, and as I walked across the hall, a table filled with past auction catalogs caught my eye.I picked up a catalog of jewelry auctions from this spring and flicked through them, but found nothing.I put it back in place and asked the lobby attendant if the gallery had a full-time jewelry specialist. "Mr. Hillquist is available," he said, and told me which room to go to and which direction to go. Mr. Hillqvist's desk was clean, as if he had been sitting there all day just waiting for me to ask for advice.I gave my name and told him that I wanted to know the approximate price of a jadeite.He asked me if I could see the real thing, and I said I didn't have it with me. "You have to bring it," he explained. "The value of a stone depends on many variables: size, cut, color, brightness—" I put my hand in my pocket, reached for the .30, and took out the piece of green glass. "About this big." I said.He raised the special high-power magnifying glass of the jewelry inspector, framed it on one eye, and took the glass from my hand.He glanced at it, his whole body froze, and carefully fixed his other eye on me. "It's not emerald," he said cautiously.It was like talking to a child—or a madman. "I know, it's a piece of glass." "right." "I'm talking about the approximate size of the emerald. I'm a private detective and would like to know the approximate value of a ring that I've seen but is missing." "Oh," he said, and then heaved a sigh, "I just thought—" "I know what you think." He took the magnifying glass from his eyes and set it in front of his desk. "Sit in my seat," he said. "You're at the mercy of the public. You can't trust the people who come to me, they show me stuff, they ask questions,"