Free Calypso by Ed McBain

Carella said, and closed the notebook. "Tell me about George's brother," he said abruptly.
        "Santo? What do you want to know about him?"
        "Is it true he ran away seven years ago?"
        "Who told you that?"
        "Ambrose Harding. Is it true?"
        "Yes."
        "Ambrose said he may have gone back to Trinidad."
        "He didn't go to Trinidad. George went there looking for him, and he wasn't there."
        "Have any ideas where he might be?" Chloe hesitated.
        "Yes?" Carella said.
        "George thought…"
        "Yes, what?"
        "That somebody killed his brother."
        "What made him think that?"
        "The way it happened, the way he just disappeared from sight."
        "Did George mention any names? Anybody he suspected?"
        "No. But he kept at it all the time. Wasn't a day went by he wasn't asking somebody or other about his brother."
        "Where'd he do the asking?"
        "Everywhere."
        "In Diamondback?"
        "In Diamondback, yes, but not only there. He was involved in a whole big private investigation. Police wouldn't do nothing, so George went out on his own."
        "When you say his brother just disappeared, what do you mean?"
        "After a job one night."
        "Tell me what happened."
        "I don't know what happened, exactly. Neither does anyone else, for that matter. It was after a job-they used to play in a band together, George and his brother."
        "Yes, I know that."
        "George and two other guys in the band were waiting in the van for Santo to come out. He'd gone to the men's room or something, I'm not sure. Anyway, he never did come out. George went back inside the place, searched it top to bottom, couldn't find him."
        "The other musicians who were there that night-would you know them?"
        "I know their names, but I've never met them."
        "What are their names?"
        "Freddie Bones and Vincent Barragan."
        "Bones? Is that his real name?"
        "I think so."
        "How do you spell the other name?"
        "I think it's B-A-R-R-A-G-A-N. It's a Spanish name, he's from Puerto Rico."
        "But you've never met either of them?"
        "No, they were both before my time. I've only been married to George for four years."
        "How do you happen to know the names then?"
        "Well, he mentioned them a lot. Because they were there the night his brother disappeared, you know. And he was always talking to them on the phone."
        "Recently?"
        "No, not recently."
        "Four years," Carella said. "Then you never met George's brother, either."
        "Never."
        "Santo Chadderton, is it?"
        "Santo Chadderton, yes."
        "Is this your first marriage?"
        "Yes."
        "Was it George's?"
        "No. He was married before." She hesitated. "To a white woman," she said, and looked him straight in the eye.
        "Divorce her or what?"
        "Divorced her, yes."
        "When?"
        "Couple of months after we met. They were already separated when we met."
        "What's her name, would you know?"
        "Irene Chadderton. That's if she's still using her married name."
        "What was her maiden name?"
        "I don't know."
        "Does she live here in the city?"
        "Used to, I don't know if she still does."
        "Would she have known Santo?"
        "I suppose so."
        "Would she know anything about his disappearance?"
        "Anybody who ever had anything to do with George knows about his brother's disappearance, believe me. It was like a goddamn obsession with him. That's the other thing we argued about, okay? My dancing here, and him talking about his brother all the time! Searching for him all the time, checking newspapers, and court records, and hospitals and driving everybody crazy."
        "You told me you had a good marriage," Carella said flatly.
        "It was good as