Betty Heck giggled nervously. “Our coats are in the bathroom. It was raining so they got wet and I–” She stopped giggling. “I’ll–get them.” It was almost funny the way she seemed to squeeze her bulk past the nose of Bucky’s shotgun. He jerked an okay at her and followed her into the bathroom.
Cuba sneezed.
“God damn you,” I said evenly.
The utter shock on Cuba’s face would have filled an art gallery. Lon threw his head back and roared. Lois Hunt snorted disgustedly. Cuba’s eyes filled with hatred for me. Hatred and sticks under my nails and burning-matches under my feet. I didn’t give a damn. I owed him much more than a nasty remark.
Betty Heck came back with an armload of coats, Bucky right behind her. She fairly filled the doorway of the bathroom. For the briefest instant, Bucky and his shotgun were walled off by the fattest woman in the world.
I knew it, Betty Heck knew it, but nobody else seemed to notice it except the two people to whom the information meant the most. Me and Betty Heck.
As naturally as anyone possibly could, she suddenly stopped walking, turned easily and said, “Oh, there’s one more I forgot–”
Bucky tried to step back out of her way. But the moment tried for was won. Betty’s big arms suddenly windmilled and three articles of apparel, my trenchcoat, Lois Hunt’s jacket and Betty’s own tent spread over Bucky and his shotgun like a blanket. The big girl butted him out of the way with one mountainous hip and the nose of the shotgun swung to one side and filled the tiny bathroom with the sound of a thousand cannons going off. Bucky squalled in surprise and she threw herself at him as if she were crazy about him. They went down, Bucky tangled and buried under the clothes, the Bouncing Betty on top, yelling away like the mate of a bloodthirsty Indian, helping hubby with the scalping.
My side was easier. Betty’s surprising move took Lon’s eyes off me. And somewhere in her interesting past, Lois Hunt had learned how to be quick on the uptake.
I shot at Lon from the heels of my shoes, flinging myself right into his arms. The .38 was useless without a target. I got behind him, twisted the gun hand behind his back until his elbow wouldn’t bend anymore. Cuba made his move then, going for his hardware but the Hunt doll was a shade quicker on the trigger. Lon was starting to shriek with pain when the big bookend in Lois Hunt’s hand came crashing down on Cuba’s thick skull. He slammed down on the carpeted floor heavily, his head thudding into the thick base of the wooden brace of the lounge. Poor Cuba and his unlucky head.
I let Lon’s arm go when the .38 trickled out of his grasp. He tried to come around to face me but I wouldn’t let him. I planted my knee in the small of his back until his breath came in tortured, short gasps. Then I rabbit-punched him. Right where his neck disappeared into his shoulder.
The shotgun roared into the confines of the bathroom once more and Lon’s breath pushed out of him like a bellow and he rolled to the floor over Cuba’s big frame. Two down and one to go.
I started for the bathroom on the dead run but I was too late.
Betty Heck huffed and puffed out of the place, the shotgun stuck under one beefy arm. Her eyes were shining like searchlights.
“That little runt’s a tough baby to put to sleep.” She wheezed heavily, caught her breath. “How’d you two do?”
I shook my head and went over to a chair and sagged wearily into it.
“Yeah, team,” I said feebly. “Women, I’ll never understand them. I thought you were scared spitless, Betty. That was wonderful going. The best. And Lois made up for everything. Thanks to you both, these three prizes will sleep it off at Headquarters tonight. And every night I hope.”
Lois Hunt shivered. “I need a drink–” She was staring down at Lon and Cuba spread-eagled across the floor of the Heck living room.
Betty Heck’s fat face was damp and shiny with heat. “Sorry, folks. All out just now.”
I grinned. “Just as well. I’ve got something more important for both of you to do than slug hard liquor.” I opened my coat, tugged out my .45 and handed it to Lois Hunt. Betty Heck was already experimenting with Bucky’s sawed-off destroyer.
“What’s the artillery for, Buster?” Lois wanted to know.
I went over to the lounge that was near the telephone and made myself comfortable. With a jerk of my shoulder, I indicated the pair on the floor.
“I’ve got a better idea than turning these cookies over to the law. Maybe I can make a deal with Bim Caesar. A fair trade. He might want his playmates back bad enough to co-operate. In the meantime, the cookies might be coming to. With my .45 you ought to be able to see that they behave themselves. And Betty, you’d better keep tabs on dear little Bucky in the bathroom.”
Betty chuckled low and lumbered away to do my bidding, the nose of the shotgun jutting out before her. Lois shrugged but she didn’t surprise me. She casually flipped the safety off the .45, sat down nicely in a stuffed chair, just as nicely crossed her legs and trained the gun at Lon and Cuba with great care. Somehow, I’d expected her to know how to handle a .45. Don’t ask me how. I just knew.
Laughing to myself and sweating just a little, I dialed Bim Caesar’s place.
The connection was tough to make. The first voice I heard was a sultry female one that sexily wanted to know what I wanted. It was probably the hat-check chick who’d been screaming her lungs out a few hours earlier.
“I’d like to talk to Bim Caesar, please. It’s urgent.”
The voice laughed in a friendly fashion.
“Mr. Caesar doesn’t accept calls on this wire. Surely, I can be of help to you. Was it about a reservation?”
I laughed. “Yes. Isn’t it a shame about all those Indians? Look, sister. This is not a customer but this is the guy who left your place not so long ago in the company of one big woman. Shall I refresh your memory or doesn’t your little stall still smell of bad liquor?”
She didn’t need any further prodding. Suddenly, the only thing she could say was, “Oh, no!”
“Oh, yes. Now will you connect me with Bim Caesar. I’m sure he’s dying to hear my still small voice.”
The hat-check chick was plenty flustered. “Just a minute, I’ll see if he’s in–”
I waited. The wires hummed, clicked and sputtered and I knew that somewhere blocks away, Bim Caesar was chewing a balloon cigar wondering why in hell it was me calling him instead of Lon or Bucky or Cuba.
It wasn’t hard to picture at all. Because the next voice I heard was Bim Caesar’s. His raspy boom was low, hesitant and worried. “Yeah. I’m listening.”
“Good evening, Mr. Caesar. I do hope I tore you away from something important.”
His voice rose warningly. “I’m listening I said. Make your story, Noon.”
I chuckled to rub him down good. His noisy snort of anger at the other end of the line was gratifying.
“It’s a short story, Bim. Lon and Bucky and Cuba paid me a visit. And now they’re all visited out. They’re resting on the nice, warm floor thinking what a dull life they’ve been leading. If you don’t read me right, I’ll put it this way. They came to get us. But we’ve got them. Cabish?”
“If you hurta my boys–”
“Your boys, if that’s what you want to call them, are not my headache. I’m turning them over to a few policemen I know. Honest ones. Now what do you say?”
What he did say was unprintable and as long a string of fine Italian swearing as I’ve ever heard. I told him so.
“Why, Bim. Even old Tony, the fruit peddler, wasn’t that mad when we used to pinch apples off his cart.”
“You goddamn crum. Gettin’ in Bim Caesar’s hair. You snoop–this finishes you, you know that, doncha–”
“Shut up and listen to me, Bim. Lon and Cuba and Bucky will come bouncing right back to you if you’ll play ball with me. Now think before you start swearing again. I want to make a deal.
“No deals, snoop. I’m up to my arm with you. When we meeta again–”
“Okay.” I cut him sho
rt. “I’ll let them talk it over with the cops. Lieutenant Hadley can ask them a lot of questions about you and Artel. He’d like to find out why your buddy Artel was cooled. While he’s finding out, he can find out an awful lot about Bim Caesar too.”
“He’s gotta nothing on me. I’m clean. Go peddle your papers, crum. I’m busy.”
“Okay, Mussolini. Suit yourself. But I’ll tell you this much. You’ll look pretty sad in those striped jobs they wear in Sing Sing. And you’ll probably rate only one cigar a month. And I don’t think they’ll let you collect any vases, either. Now stop being so damned mad that you can’t think straight. My deal won’t cost you the wrinkle in your forehead.”
There was an eloquent pause at his end. I could almost feel him ealming down after the first passion of his temper. Betty Heck and Lois Hunt eyed me questioningly but I shook my head at them.
Bim Caesar’s voice came back. Cooler, less hurried this this time and just a mite more resigned.
“Hit me,” he said. “What’s your deal?”
“Just this. I’ll send your three boys back to you as soon as they wake up. On one condition. I want to have a confab with you tomorrow. It shouldn’t mean too much to you. And it’s important as hell to me.”
His voice got suspicious faster than babies wet their diapers.
“Are you kidding me? All I gotta do is talk to you and you’ll let my boys go?”
“That’s exactly what I mean. What do’ you say?”
His low rumble of mirth shook my ear. “You are crazy. Testa dura. Real hard head. Sure, I’ll talk to you. Any time. Come down to the club and–”
This time I laughed. “I’m not that crazy. I want to see you for a talk but I’ve got the place already picked out.”
“Yeah?” The guarded note of his voice was so sudden it was laughable. “Where’s that?”
“You know where Headquarters is. There’s a lunch counter right across the street. I got a ten o’clock appointment with Lieutenant Hadley. Meet me at nine on the nose. We can settle all our business in one hour. One hour is all I’m asking you for anyway.”
His disbelief was as thick as his lips.
“You no expect me to believe all you want is a little talk? For that you won’t turn my boys in?”
“That’s what I’m saying, Caesar. What do you say?”
I could almost see his shrug.
“You fool me, Noon. You gotta let my boys go first, that right? Suppose I don’t show up?”
“You’ll show up. I could still make trouble for you at Headquarters with or without your slimy crew and you know it.”
There was another pause from his end.
“Okay. Turn ’em loose,” he growled. “I’ll be there in the morning. Nine o’clock like you said. The lunch counter. Arrivedierci.” He hung up noisily.
Lois Hunt was incredulous. “Did I hear you right, Buster? You turning these murderers loose?”
I got up from the chair and stretched. “Don’t lose any sleep over it, beautiful. It wouldn’t make much difference if I turned them over to the cops or not. Bim Caesar’s crooked lawyers would have them out on bail before you know it. This way was much better. If I can afford to be generous, then that worries a low-brow like Bim Caesar. I think he’s got the hot leads I need.”
“Don’t you trust him, Eddie,” Betty Heck sniffed, shifting her shotgun to her other arm. “He’s greasy. I don’t like greasy people.”
I smiled at her concern. “I’ll take care of myself. Honest. But now what do you say we clear this poor white trash out of the room? Lois, get a pitcher of water, if you please. I’ll go see how our friend Bucky is making out.”
Lois Hunt shrugged but she did as she was told. I waited till she got back with the water before I went into the bathroom. She knew what to do with the water. I could hear her sloshing it floorward as I peeked into the bathroom.
Bucky was just coming to. Groaning and holding his head as if he thought it was going to fall off. Before he could snap out of it completely. I grabbed him by the collar and half-pushed, half-dragged him into the living room.
Lon and Cuba looked ludicrous and just plain silly struggling erect off the floor trying to get their bearings, each of them swearing feebly. But they stood stock-still once they got a good look at my twin female operatives and the arsenal they were leveling at them. A sawed-off shotgun and a .45 are frightening in any man’s army.
I pushed Bucky away from me so that he lined up with Lon and Cuba on the other side of the room near the door. I scooped up their hats and flung them right into their startled faces.
“Out. The way you came. And don’t hang around outside getting any cute ideas. I’m giving you crums a big break. You can go back to your Boss the way you came. In one piece.”
Lon swayed on his feet, his eyes uncomprehending, his brain refusing to believe. Cuba and Bucky were just glowering like the Dead End kids they were. Cuba had recovered so fast I could only conclude he had a pretty thick skull.
“Don’t get this, Noon,” Lon muttered. “You mean you ain’t blowing the whistle on us?”
I pointed his own .38 right at his heart. “That’s right, Lon. I called Bim and we had a real heart-to-heart. He wants the three of you back home. On the double. So run along. You’re all through here.”
Cuba growled like a bulldog. “It’s a rib, Lon. The sonofabitch is getting cute again.” Bucky snarled in agreement, his eyes glaring at Betty Heck. He really loved that dame.
Lon tried to make some sense out of what I had said. Either that or he was just wondering how angry Bim Caesar was that he had fumbled his assignment.
“You giving it to us straight? We can walk outa here. Right now?”
“Lois, open the door,” I said. “Goodbye, Lon. Goodbye, Bucky. Goodbye, Cuba. Farewell to all three of you. Scram, blow, get lost. Take a powder. Got the picture now?”
I had to laugh. Lois opened the door with alacrity and the three of them stumbled out like blind men, their eyes still registering their complete disbelief. It wasn’t possible they were telling themselves. But pretty soon they were gone and I went to the head of the stairwell and listened to their footsteps going down and out the front door. Lon took it the hardest of all. I could see why. He was the guy in charge and therefore answerable for the failure of all three of them.
Going back inside, I locked the door and bolted it this time. Ignoring the girls, I went to the window and looked out. I didn’t turn away from it until I saw our three companions pile sadly into a sleek black car and drive away. Then I locked the window too, loosened my tie, opened my collar and went back to my deep, comfortable chair. I dropped into it with relief and started to undo my shoelaces.
It was funny. Lois and Betty followed my lead almost instinctively. Fat Girl was spread across the red velvet lounge and Thin Lips collapsed into the other deep chair. I guess it had been rough on them playing copper. They both looked exhausted.
“Boys and girls,” Lois Hunt exhaled noisily. “I sure could use a drink now.”
Betty Heck giggled. “Well you know there ain’t any. So stop hinting. What do we do now, Eddie boy?”
I lit a cigarette, flipped the pack across the room into Lois Hunt’s lap.
“Emily Post notwithstanding, we all stay right here. I’m not letting either of you out of my sight until broad daylight. Just in case. Besides, I can’t go back to the office just yet. I want to get some shut-eye without being interrupted. How many beds in this place?”
Betty giggled again. “Just one big one. But the three of us could fit in it.”
“This chair will do fine,” Lois Hunt said acidly.
I laughed. “I’ll make the grand sacrifice. I’ll stay in the chair. You and Betty take the bed. It’s better that way. I’ll be near the door just in case our friends come back and try to kick it in. Now what do you say we all fold our tents and turn in? I’m beat.”
I was. My own particular set of muscles were starting to ache from the multiple tensions and gym
nastics of a long, busy day. I could feel myself sliding off. Lon’s .38 nearly slipped out of my weary fingers but I checked myself just in time.
The girls got the hint and made their preparations for retiring. I watched them get up and get busy. They put their guns down on the table and looked like women all over again. Something about females and guns just doesn’t jibe, I guess. But I was too tired to pursue the illusion. I was that little man who’d had a busy day.
But I had one more surprise coming in a day full of surprises. Just before they both disappeared into the bedroom, Betty Heck suddenly bounced over to my chair and the arms that were like ironing boards trapped me in a herculean embrace. The breasts that were like basketballs squashed into my chest and before I could open my mouth to say something, her wide, wet mouth thoroughly kissed my own.
She pushed away from me, her small eyes shining like the lights on the George Washington Bridge.
“Good night, you great big beautiful man. I could eat you, you’ve been so swell about everything–”
With that, she bounced away but not before I could hear Lois Hunt’s low, mocking ripple of laughter.
“Good night, lover,” she sang out. “Boy, you really knock them dead, don’t you?”
Betty giggled and shoved Lois ahead of her into the bedroom. The door closed on Lois Hunt’s light, feminine mirth.
Completely demoralized, I kicked off my shoes and leaned back in the chair. I closed my eyes and tried to sleep. It wasn’t too hard to do at that. Sleep, I mean.
The fourth sheep had jumped over the fence before I even cared whether a fifth one did or didn’t. Because after that, it didn’t matter.
I slept like a dead man.
CHAPTER EIGHT
I awoke with a jarring sensation kicking my head apart. I shouldn’t have been surprised. I found myself curled up like a pretzel in the deep chair, my fingers closed around the hard, horny butt of Lon’s .38. It took me just a second to reorient myself.
The Case of the Bouncing Betty Page 8
