Free A Dance at the Slaughterhouse by Lawrence Block Page A

knew his current marriage had hit a rocky stretch when he sobered up. But I didn't know the guy's last name or where he worked, so I had to wait until the eight-thirty meeting.
    He got to St. Paul 's just after the meeting started, and on the break he made a beeline for me and wanted to know if I'd had a chance to see the film. "Sure," I said, "it's always been one of my favorites. I especially liked the part where Donald Sutherland impersonates a general and reviews the troops."
    "Jesus," he said, "I specifically wanted you to watch that particular film, the cassette I gave you last night. Didn't I tell you?"
    "Just a little joke," I said.
    "Oh."
    "I saw the thing. It wasn't my idea of a good time, but I saw it all the way through."
    "And?"
    "And what?"
    I decided we could get along without the second half of the meeting. I took his arm and led him outside and up a flight of stairs to street level. Across Ninth Avenue a man and woman were arguing about money, their voices carrying far and wide on the warm air. I asked Will where the cassette had come from.
    "You saw the label," he said. "The video-rental place around the corner from me. Sixty-first and Broadway."
    "You rented it?"
    "That's right. I've seen it before, Mimi and I have both seen it several times, but we caught one of the sequels on cable last week and we wanted to look at the real thing again. And you know what we saw."
    "Right."
    "A fucking snuff film. That's what they're called, isn't it?"
    "I think so."
    "I never saw one before."
    "Neither did I."
    "Really? I thought being a cop and a detective and all-"
    "Never."
    He sighed. "Well, what do we do now?"
    "What do you mean, Will?"
    "Do we go to the cops? I don't want to get in trouble but I wouldn't feel right just looking the other way, either. I guess what I'm saying is I want your advice on how to proceed."
    They were still yelling at each other on the far side of the avenue. Leave me alone, the man kept saying. Leave me the fuck alone.
    I said, "Let me get a clear picture of how you wound up with the film. You walked into the store, you picked it off the shelf-"
    "You don't pick the actual cassette off the shelf."
    "You don't?"
    He explained the procedure, how they had a cardboard sleeve that they displayed, and you took that to the counter and exchanged it for the cassette that went with it. He had a membership there, so they checked the film out to him and collected the charge for an overnight rental, whatever it was. A couple of dollars.
    "And this was at Broadway and Sixty-first?"
    He nodded. "Two, three doors from the corner. Right next to Martin's Bar." I knew the bar, a big open room like a Blarney Stone, with low-priced drinks and hot food on a steam table. Years ago they'd had a sign in the window touting their Happy Hour, with drinks at half price from 8 to 10 A.M. That's got to be some Happy Hour at eight in the morning.
    "How late are they open?"
    "Eleven, I think. Midnight on weekends."
    "I'll go talk to them," I said.
    "Now?"
    "Why not?"
    "Well, I don't know. Do you want me to come with you?"
    "There's no need."
    "You're sure? Because in that case I think I'll go back for the rest of the meeting."
    "You might as well."
    He turned away, then back again. "Oh, Matt? I was supposed to bring the film back yesterday, so they may want to charge for an extra day. Whatever it comes to, just let me know and I'll reimburse you."
    I told him that wasn't something he had to worry about.
    THE video-rental store was where Will had told me it would be. I stopped at my room first and had the cassette with me when I walked in. There were four or five customers browsing, a man and a woman behind the counter. They were both in their thirties, and he had a two- or three-day growth of beard. I figured he was the manager. If she was in charge, she probably would have told him to go home and shave.
    I walked over to him and said I wanted to speak to the manager. "I'm the owner," he said. "Will that do?"
    I showed him