I smiled. “I had nothing to do with his killing. I had nothing to do with organizing a gambling pool. I’m a legitimate businessman.” I took a drag at my cigarette. “If this is what you intend asking me, stop wasting your time. I couldn’t tell you anything even if I did know what you were talking about.”
He froze up. “That’s how you want to play the game?”
He was crazy if he thought there was any other way to play it. If he thought I would spill just because he was a childhood friend of mine, he should have known better. I wasn’t going to give him anything that would cost me.
“Never tell ’em your right name!” I smiled.
“O.K.!” He got to his feet; he was angry. “I’m beginning to believe what that guy said—this was your frame.”
“You think what you like,” I said.
“Look,” he said, “I’m trying to give you a break you don’t deserve because I knew you. I told you months ago, when I started, to get out, and you didn’t listen. Now I tell you I’m going to nail you. I purposely went easy on you, but from now on I’m out for blood.”
He was a lot of crap! If I could have been had, he would have had me. He wasn’t doing anything for me and wasn’t doing anything to me because he couldn’t. I stood up. “It’s your party,” I said, facing him.
“It’s going to be your funeral,” he shouted.
“Quiet!” I said. “The neighbors!”
His face turned a mottled red; the cords stood out on his neck. “You lousy bastard!” he shouted.
That took twenty years to come out from where he had kept it. I looked at him coolly. “You’re not so bad yourself,” I said, half smiling.
He sat down again. For the first time he used my name. “Frank,” he spoke apologetically, “I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry. I was excited. I don’t like this job any more than you do, but I have to do it.”
“Forget it, kid!” I said. “I know how you feel.”
We fell silent for a while, each with our own thoughts. “Why don’t you get out of this, Frankie?” he asked.
I didn’t answer. An explanation would be a confirmation of his thoughts. I wasn’t going to confirm anything for him no matter how he felt about me.
When he saw I had no answer he continued. “It would be easy to frame you for an attempt on my life.”
I agreed with him. “Very easy!” But was that what he wanted?
“In the long run,” he continued, “it might be giving you a break. A term not too long, not too short, would take you out of this and put you safely out of harm’s way.”
I smiled and threw the book at him. “Are you trying to protect me or the people of your city?”
He looked up at me; a new light seemed to come into his eyes. “You speak plainly.”
“Why not!” I asked. “You were given a job. Do it if you can. You owe me nothing.”
He stood up. “We could be friends.” He held out his hand.
I took it. “We are,” I said. “But that’s between us. Business is something else.”
He still held my hand. “I’m going to bust up your racket,” he said, smiling, “put you out of business.”
I smiled back at him. “That’s your job. You can try.”
He let go of my hand. “You don’t think I can?”
“I don’t think you can,” I answered.
“Will you come down to my office Monday if I let you go now?” he asked.
He was giving me a break. I nodded. It would give me a chance to bring Carson along with me. He turned toward the door. “Be there at ten o’clock,” he said.
“I’ll be there.”
He turned and looked at me. For a moment his old smile flashed across his face. “Merry Christmas!”
“Merry Christmas to you!” I said. I watched him walk out.
I looked down at my wristwatch. It was after twelve. I went out into the hall and down to the lobby. The room had cost me fifteen bucks. I was glad to be able to pay for it. I went outside. My car was still parked where I had left it. A parking ticket hung from the steering wheel. I laughed to myself as I sat down behind the wheel.
I drove but a few blocks when a voice spoke from the back seat. “Hello, Frankie.”
I didn’t believe my ears. It was Ruth’s voice. I half turned around in the seat and pulled over to the curb. “How did you get here?” I asked.
She got out of the car and climbed into the front seat with me before she answered. “Jerry was at our house when you called him.”
“I didn’t call him,” I said. “It was a frame.” I told her what had happened, leaving out mention of the dame.
Her face was tense while I told my story. When I had finished she spoke. “I had hoped you were beginning to see reason.” Her voice was disappointed.
I reached over and took her hand. “Give me time,” I said. “Someday maybe.”
“But not today?” she asked.
“Today I got things to do,” I answered. I tried to change the subject. “How did you find the car?”
“I followed Jerry,” she replied automatically. She was thinking of something else. “When I saw your car I got into it and waited for you. I knew you’d be out sooner or later.”
She knew more than I did a few hours ago. I wouldn’t give a plugged nickel for my chances then. I stopped the car in front of Fennelli’s place.
“Wait here,” I said, getting out. “I got to see a guy. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
She didn’t answer. I went upstairs and rang Fennelli’s bell. If he set the frame he would be at home with a few friends. I was right. Laurens opened the door. I walked past him without speaking.
Fennelli was kibitzing a card game, a glass in his hand. He looked at me, surprised. “What are you doing here, Frank?” he asked.
I laughed, coldly, derisively.
“In New York, I mean,” he added.
That was the clincher. He didn’t have to add that if he was clean. I walked past him toward the bedroom ignoring the other players. I held the door open. “Come in here, Silk,” I said quietly. “I want to talk to you.”
Maybe it was the lights but I thought he looked a little pale. I shut the door behind us and faced him.
“What’s up?” he asked.
“Someone tried to knock off the D.A. tonight and set me up for it,” I said.
“Who?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe you do?”
“This is the first I hear of it,” he protested. There was sweat on his upper lip. “How did it happen?”
I told him succinctly. When I had finished he raised his hand to his face. “Whew, that was close!”
“Too close!” I said.
“And all you saw was those three?” he asked.
I nodded. “I don’t know what happened to the other two, but the cops took the gunsel down to headquarters.”
“I’ll keep my eyes peeled, and if I get a line on it I’ll let you know,” he said. He had composed himself quickly.
“Keep an eye peeled for those three especially,” I said. “I got plans for them.”
“I will, Frank,” he said, “I will.”
I turned and walked out and downstairs. Fennelli couldn’t afford to let them get where I could talk to them. I had just signed a kiss-off for them. That was O.K. with me. Fennelli wouldn’t take another chance for a while—at least not until he stood a better chance than he did at this time.
I opened the door, “O.K. baby!” I said with a laugh, “I wasn’t too long, was I?” There wasn’t any answer. I stuck my head inside the car.
She was gone.
70
My meeting with Jerry at his office turned out to be a farce. Carson was with me, and every time Cowan asked a question he advised me not to answer. I spent an hour and a half keeping my mouth shut, and when I left I knew Jerry didn’t have anything to go on. He was just fishing. All they got was my picture.
The evening papers had it splashed all over the fr
ont pages. “This is the man,” they said in the caption under my photo, “that the government of your city and state calls their Number One Public Enemy.”
There was another item in the paper too. A man and a woman had been found shot to death in a field along the Boston Post Road. The description of the woman fitted the girl who had been part of the plan to frame me. Silk hadn’t lost any time at plugging the holes in his raft. The other guy was still in the can, but I was certain that Silk would take care of him at the first opportunity.
At least one thing had cleared itself up. I could come and go as I pleased. I had promised Jerry I would appear anytime he sent for me. I called Ruth that night.
“What are you doing New Year’s Eve?” I asked.
Her voice was cool. “I have an appointment.”
“Break it!” I said. “Well do the town.”
She hung up on me. I smiled when I put back the receiver. Things weren’t just right yet, but in a little while—.
January went by and February came. Nothing unusual had happened, but I knew the beavers were still gnawing in the dark. The new organization I had formed was all set, and the next move was to send Joe Price out and have him set up an office for it. I was waiting to do that only when it became necessary. The boys had behaved themselves and business had come back to normal.
The lull ended near the end of February. The first kicker came when I got a call from Carson.
“Frank,” his voice was nervous, “I’ve been suspended.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“The Bar Association has instituted disbarment proceedings against me,” he said, his voice trembling.
“That means you can’t practice until your case comes up?”
“Yes,” he said.
“Have they got a case?” I asked.
“Not much,” he answered, “but they’re going to string it out as long as they can, hoping for something to break.” He laughed a little bitterly.
That something was me. “Well,” I said, “come over here and we’ll talk about it.”
I hung up. I lit a cigarette and looked across the river. This was the real beginning of the end. They knew I couldn’t break in another shyster at this stage of the game. The next step would be to knock off the boys. I turned back to the desk and called Joe Price and told him to come upstairs.
Two days later they went to work in earnest. Jensen was picked up as a receiver of stolen goods; they traced a hot diamond necklace to him. He was out on twenty-five grand bail, but I could get ready to write him off. I had to pass the word around to the boys that the legal department was temporarily out of business. They didn’t like that. I didn’t think they would; but then, neither did I.
The next blast came when someone tipped Schutz’s wife off to the two dames on Park Avenue. She went over to the place, caught him playing sixty-forty with one of the two broads, and shot them both up. She didn’t kill either of them, but the cops had her down in the can and she was singing away to high heaven about his territory. I could imagine the coppers taking down every word she spoke and making pictures with it.
At the end of the week I got Joe Price out of town. I turned the operation of his department over to a guy that had been his assistant. From the way things looked, the game didn’t have long to go.
The last Sunday in February was the clincher. After that I knew the party was over. I had split Schutz’s territory up between Carvell and Kelly and Fennelli. Somewhere along the line—I had an idea where the word was crossed, and a couple of Fennelli’s boys shot up Kelly as he left his home one morning.
It was Fennelli who called me. “Frank,” he said quietly, “‘Piggy’ Laurens just knocked off ‘Iron Mike.’”
For a moment I was tongue-tied. We still would have had a chance if the boys had played it my way, but this would only turn public support more solidly behind the government’s stand. I spoke quietly. “Who told him to?”
“I didn’t have a thing to do with it, Frank,” he said. I could detect a faintly mocking note in his voice. A sort of I-dare-you-to-do-anything-about-it tone.
“Then who did?” I shouted. “A gun crazy son-of-a-bitch like that doesn’t go around doing anything he hasn’t been told to!”
“He says he had a call from you.” The voice came quietly through the phone.
I saw what the gag was. I spoke quietly again. “Since when does he do anything for me? He works for you.”
“He said you called him and told him to take care of Kelly and that you would take care of him.”
“You can tell him to go fry in hell as far as I am concerned!” I said flatly.
“But what if the cops get him?” Fennelli asked. “He’ll sing and throw it on you.”
That name “Silk” was right; this baby was smooth. “It’s up to you to see that he isn’t picked up,” I said. “It may be pointed out that he works for you.”
I put the received back on the hook for a moment, and then picked up the phone and called Jake Rance. Rance was the guy who took care of whatever publicity we needed. He planted information on winnings of bettors and stuff like that in the papers for me. “Hello,” his voice answered.
“Jake,” I said, “Frank Kane. Got a story I want you to plant in Wetzel’s column for me.”
“What is it?” he asked.
“A certain smooth midtown operator knows more about the murder of ‘Iron Mike’ Kelly than he wants to talk about.”
Jake whistled. “That’s hot, Frank. I don’t know if I could get it in.”
“There’s a grand in it for you if you do,” I said.
“It’s in!” he said. “What’s up, Frank?”
“The rats are beginning to run,” I said, and put the phone down again. Let Fennelli sweat that one out.
The item made the Monday column. “Piggy” was a dead pigeon two hours after the first edition hit the street. It seems he ran into an automobile.
71
I was standing in front of the mirror shaving. I felt good. A faint touch of spring was beginning to creep into the April air. The sun was pouring in the window and I, like a damn fool, was humming. I put down the razor and splashed some after-shaving lotion on my face. Its cool menthol sting made my skin tingle. I combed my hair and left the bathroom, putting on my shirt.
I picked up the phone. A nice Sunday breakfast was in order and I felt hungry as hell. The operator came on. “This is Kane,” I said. “Have room service send up something to eat.” They would know what I wanted.
“Yes, Mr. Kane,” the girl replied. “By the way, Mr. Kane, someone is here to see you. Dr. Cabell and his sister.”
“Send them up,” I told her, “and you better make that breakfast for three.” I put down the phone.
A few minutes later there was a knock at my door. I walked over and opened it. Marty and Ruth were standing in the hall. I smiled at them and held out my hand to Marty. “Come in, boy,” I said, “I’m glad to se yuh.”
He shook my hand strongly. “Frankie,” he said looking at me.
They followed me into the room. “You’re just in time for breakfast,” I told them, “and I won’t take no for an answer.”
We sat down and I lit a cigarette. The room was upset, as Sunday was the one day the maid didn’t come in. “Don’t mind how the joint looks,” I said, waving my hand at the room. “Bachelor quarters.”
Marty grinned. “Frankie, you look good.”
“You look good, kid,” I said, “and from what I’ve heard, you’re going to do even better.”
He flushed a little. “That’s nothing,” he said deprecatingly, “I like the work and I try.”
Breakfast came up. We sat down and began to eat. Ruth was quiet. We didn’t have very much to talk about. I smiled at them. “Do you ever hear anything of Mrs. Scott?” I asked.
“She’s dead,” Marty told me.
“That’s too bad,” I murmured.
“Yeah,” Marty said. “She was the first one to give me an idea as
to what I wanted. If it weren’t for her, I’d never have gone in for this.”
“Great gal!” I put in.
“She thought a great deal of you,” Marty said. “In a way you were her favorite. She expected a great deal from you.” He stopped, a little embarrassed.
I laughed and turned to Ruth. “What do you think?”
Her eyes were serious. “She was the first person to ever understand you, Frankie.”
I thought that over. Maybe. Anyway things never go as planned. I shrugged my shoulders. “It’s a long way back.”
I was finished with my eggs and was starting on my second cup of coffee. Ruth leaned over and poured the coffee for me. My hand touched hers as I had started for it, and we looked up at each other, startled by the accidental touching. Her eyes were blue and deep. Then I looked down at my cup.
Marty started to say something but didn’t say it. We just sat there quietly for a few minutes. Then I said: “It’s damn nice of you two to come over!”
“It was my idea.” Marty said, “I wanted to see you. It’s been so long and I’ve been curious, and Ruth…”
“What about Ruth?” I asked.
Ruth spoke up. “I wanted him to talk to you. He’s your friend. He’s got nothing to lose or gain by what he tells you.”
I got up and walked over to the window. “I want friends,” I said, “but no advice.”
Ruth followed me to the window. She took my hand. “Friends are more than just people who will listen to what you have to say and agree with you. Sometimes they have to tell you things you don’t want to hear for your own sake. Please listen to what we have to say.”
I turned to her. I didn’t care if Marty was in the room. I put my arms around her. “Baby,” I said, “if you love me, why don’t you let it go at that? Why keep knocking yourself out trying to tell me to do what I won’t want?”
She leaned against me for a moment. “It’s just that, Frankie,” she said softly. “If I didn’t love you, I wouldn’t care what happened to you.”
Marty looked over at us. His eyes were serious. “You really meant what you told me,” he said to Ruth.
Harold Robbins Organized Crime Double Page 42
