Eye in the Ring

by Robert J. Randisi

  Seeing Benny hadn’t eased my mind about any of this mess. I still felt guilty about having slept with Julie, and I felt even guiltier about not being sure if I believed Benny’s story. Finding Max the Ax was my last chance to prove that Benny didn’t kill Eddie. It was my last chance to believe him, because if none of Eddie’s clients killed him, and Max didn’t kill him, who did that leave?

  Chapter Forty-Three

  After changing into some fresh clothing of my own, I decided to go ahead and waste the time it would take to check out the hotel on Fourteenth Street; but first I stopped at my bank to pick up some funds, just in case I had to grease some palms. I also had to pay Tracy back the forty bucks she had loaned me.

  It cost me twenty dollars of that money to get the desk clerk to let me look at the registration cards for the past week. Naturally, I didn’t find anybody named Max “the Ax” Collins registered, and I hadn’t expected to. What I was looking for was someone from Detroit, or at least someone with the same initials.

  It’s a proven fact, and one that no law enforcement agency can understand, that when choosing an alias criminals often use the same initials as in their real names. Very often they don’t realize that they’ve done so. Eddie Waters had always pounded it into my head to look for those initials if I felt a man had any reasons for using a name other than his own.

  I found a registration card for a man named Mark Costa who had registered the morning of my fight. His home was not listed as Detroit, but it was listed as a town I had never heard of in Michigan. Close enough.

  The room number was 414, on the fourth floor.

  “Is this man still registered?” I asked.

  He took the card from me, scanned it briefly, then said, “Yeah, as far as I know.”

  “Do you know what that man looks like?” I asked.

  The clerk was young, bearded, and not particularly well dressed, which wasn’t surprising. The hotel was only one small notch above the Roger Williams, and the only real difference in this clerk’s attitude, as opposed to the clerk in the Williams, was that this clerk probably couldn’t have given a damn less what the Mets were doing.

  He had been reading an OTB sheet when I interrupted him with my questions, and my twenty-dollar bill.

  “Oh, man, do you know how many people I see in one day?” he asked me.

  “Yeah, but this one wouldn’t be a wino,” I told him.

  He looked around quickly and said, “Don’t let the manager hear you say that, man. He don’t allow no winos in here.”

  “You know what I mean, pal. Think back. Was this guy brown-haired, about five nine, kind of slim and collegy looking?”

  “Shit, man, I may not have even been on the desk when he signed in, you know?”

  “Yeah, okay. How much to get a look at his room?” I asked.

  His eyes widened and he said, “A lot more than you could afford, brother. This may not be the best job in the world, but it’s the only one I got.”

  “Fifty?” I said, letting him see the 50 on the bill in my hand.

  He looked around quickly for the feared manager, and then said, “Fifty’s just right.” He grabbed for the bill, but I held tight.

  “Passkey?”

  He started looking left and right to such a degree that I thought he was shaking his head, but when he was satisfied that we were unobserved he slipped me the key and I handed him the fifty.

  “Try and be quick about it, huh?” he asked.

  “Quick as I can.”

  “If anything comes up, I’ll ring the phone once.”

  “Okay.”

  I took the elevator to the fifth floor. The hallway was empty, so I took the gun out of the bloody holster that was clipped to my belt, held it in my right hand and unlocked the door with my left. I pushed the door open with a bang and jumped into the room with the gun held straight out in front of me.

  Now, maybe I did it wrong. I mean, there could have been some innocent guy from Michigan in that hotel room with a broad, or maybe even saying his prayers. If there had been I would have been embarrassed and probably had a lot of explaining to do to the cops, but I would have been alive.

  Then again, I could have just knocked on his door and caught a blade in the gut for my trouble.

  This way, I was in control of the situation.

  As it turned out, it didn’t matter how I did it, because the room was empty.

  I closed the door behind me and then holstered the gun. I gave the room a quick toss, but couldn’t come up with anything that would tell me if the room had recently been inhabited by the hit man from Detroit.

  What I did establish was that whoever had been living there had skipped without paying their hotel bill. There were no clothes and no personal effects to indicate that someone was presently living there.

  Since the phone hadn’t rung I decided to give the room a second time over, and that’s when I turned up the small notebook under the phone. I didn’t know whether it was left behind on purpose or not, but it told me what I wanted to know. Max the Ax had been staying here.

  When I opened the small, blue-covered spiral notebook, what I saw on the first page froze me solid. There were three addresses written down. One was mine, one was the office address, and the other—well, the other one was the one that scared me and made me sure that this had been the Ax’s room.

  The third address was Julie’s!

  Chapter Forty-Four

  I grabbed up the phone and dialed Julie’s number and became even more worried when there was no answer. It scared the shit out of me to think that the hit man knew where she lived. He could only know that from having followed me at one time or another, which was how he must have gotten all three addresses.

  The only other way was if someone had given them to him.

  I left the room, satisfied that he was gone and was not returning. I brought the key back to the clerk and told him to tell the manager not to depend on getting paid for Room 414.

  I grabbed a passing cab when I left and had him take me home. When I got there I grabbed the phone and dialed Julie’s number again.

  This time she answered.

  “Don’t ask me any questions,” I told her. “Just pack a bag and be ready to leave. I’m on my way over.”

  “Jack? What’s the—”

  “Julie, please, no questions. Just pack and be ready.”

  “You’re scaring me,” she complained.

  “I’m trying to,” I told her, and hung up.

  When I hung up I dialed Missy’s number and waited three rings until she answered.

  “Hello, Missy, it’s Jack.”

  “Hi, Jack. Listen, I’m sorry I didn’t come to the office today—” she started, but I interrupted her.

  “That’s okay, Missy, don’t worry about it. Listen, I need a favor.”

  “What is it?”

  “Do you have a key to Eddie’s apartment?”

  She hesitated, then said, “Yes, I do. Why?”

  “I want to use the apartment for a while,” I told her. “I’m too easy a target here in my own place.”

  “A target? What are you talking about?”

  I explained about being attacked and injured by Max the Ax, then told her that I was sure he knew where I lived.

  “Are you going to hide out?” she asked.

  “Not exactly, I just want somewhere to go where he won’t find me. I don’t think he’ll look in Eddie’s apartment for me.”

  I didn’t tell her that I also had plans to leave Julie there too.

  “All right, Jack, but you don’t have to come out here to get my key. There’s a key in Eddie’s desk, right in the top drawer.”

  “Great!” I told her. “You’re a doll, Missy, thanks.”

  “Jack, do you still want me to keep checking the client list?” she asked.

  “Uh, no, I think we can forget that, Missy. In fact, you don’t have to come to the office for a while if you don’t want to.”

  “Will you be keepin
g it open?” she asked.

  “I haven’t decided yet, Missy, but I’ll let you know soon.”

  I was in a hurry but didn’t want to seem as if I were rushing her to hang up. Thankfully, though, she was the one who ended the conversation.

  I packed a suitcase with some clothing, made sure I had my bankbook, and then went out to grab a cab and pick up Julie.

  Julie was all packed and ready when I got there; and she carried her own bag down to the waiting cab, because she didn’t want me straining my stitches.

  “Now, what’s this all about?” she asked in the backseat of the cab after I’d given the driver the office address.

  “I’ll tell you later, Julie. Just trust me for a little while,” I told her. I didn’t want to tell her anything until we were alone.

  I had the cab wait in front of the office while I went up to get the key to Eddie’s apartment. While I was there I also took the extra box of shells from the bottom drawer, along with the shoulder holster. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to get the blood off the belt holster.

  The cab ride ended in front of Eddie’s building, which was at Fifty-sixth Street and Second Avenue. I paid the cab driver and then refused to let Julie carry both bags. I did relent when it came to her bigger bag and let her carry that one.

  “This isn’t bad,” she said when we were in Eddie’s apartment. “A bit musty . . .” she started to say, but then stopped, realizing it was musty because it had been unused since Eddie’s death.

  “Why don’t you make some coffee, and then I’ll tell you why I brought you here.”

  “For immoral purposes, I hope,” she said, and then went off to find the kitchen. I was very pleased with the offhanded way she had made that remark, and I felt very comfortable being there with her.

  I took both bags into Eddie’s bedroom and left them in the closet. On the floor of the closet I found a kit that he used to clean his guns and took it into the living room with me.

  I set the kit up on the coffee table and started cleaning the gun and the belt holster. I set the shoulder holster on the couch next to me.

  The smell of coffee was soon in the air, and it improved on the musty smell of the apartment. Julie came walking in carrying two cups of black coffee, put them on the coffee table, and then sat on the floor facing me, with the table between us.

  “You getting your pistol ready for a shootout, Marshal?” she asked.

  “That’s right, Miss Kitty,” I told her.

  She rubbed her arms as if she had gotten a chill just then and said, “I’m making jokes because I’m scared, and seeing you clean that gun isn’t helping any.”

  “I know,” I told her. I put the rag and gun down and let my hands rest on my knees. I explained why I not only had to move myself, but her as well, and that scared her even more.

  “Why would he have my address?” she asked.

  “I guess it was just somewhere else to find me if he wanted me,” I told her. “I’m sorry if I’ve put you in danger, Julie.”

  “Don’t be silly, Jack. If you have it’s only because you’ve been working to clear Benny.”

  “Yeah, Benny,” I said, picking up the gun and rag again. She’d brought my brother into the room with us with that remark, and I started to feel uncomfortable with her again.

  “Drink your coffee,” she told me, and I looked at her and marveled at how beautiful she was to me. More than once I had been on the verge of asking her why she had ever married Benny, and now I felt the urge again.

  “So what are we going to do now, hide out here together?” she asked.

  “Much as I’d like to, no. You’re going to hide out here; I’m going to go and find the man again.”

  “Oh, Jack, haven’t you had enough of him? Do you want to get killed?” she asked.

  “Julie, this is my only chance to prove that Benny didn’t kill Eddie. If I can catch this guy and get him to admit that he did it, Benny’s free. Don’t you want that?”

  My last question was malicious. I wanted her to say no, she didn’t want Benny free, she wanted him to stay in jail so she could be with me.

  “Of course I want him free, Jack,” she said instead. “How could you think otherwise.”

  “I don’t,” I assured her. “I don’t think otherwise, that’s why I’m going out there, to try and get you your husband back.”

  That seemed to put a damper on any further conversation, and she took the empty cups back to the kitchen to wash them.

  I walked over to a highboy that stood against the wall that separated the kitchen from the living room and opened the top drawer, where I knew Eddie had kept another gun. This one was a German gun, a Heckler & Koch P9 that Eddie was very fond of. It was lighter than the .38, but held nine shots to the .38’s six. It was a 9mm with its own holster, a shoulder rig. I decided right then and there that this was the gun I’d carry from now on, figuring the more shots I had, the better. I took it back to the coffee table with me and proceeded to clean it.

  “Another one?” Julie asked, walking back into the room.

  “Yep. This one’s mine, the other one is yours,” I told her, indicating the automatic I was cleaning.

  “Mine? I don’t want a gun. I don’t know how to use one,” she protested.

  “You will before I leave here. It’s very simple,” I assured her. “Come here.”

  She came over to me and I stood up behind her, placing the .38 in her hand, and putting down the automatic.

  “Hold the gun with both hands,” I told her, putting my hands over hers. “If anybody comes through that door and it isn’t me, just point the gun and start pulling the trigger. Keep pulling it until it’s empty. It’s as simple as that.”

  “Simple?” she asked. “To kill a man?”

  “If he’s trying to kill you, yes.”

  “Have you ever killed anyone?”

  “You know I haven’t, but if I had been able to get off a decent shot last night, I might have.”

  I put the .38 down on the table and began cleaning the 9mm again.

  “Is there food in the kitchen?” I asked.

  “Are you hungry?”

  “I just want to make sure you don’t have to go out for anything. Check the refrigerator and the closets, let me know if you need anything.”

  She went off to take inventory, and I stood up and took off my jacket so I could try on the shoulder holster. I had some trouble getting it on because I was being careful of my stitches, but I finally got it into place and then tried the gun in the holster. The fit was good and I slid my jacket back on over it just as Julie came back into the room.

  “There’s plenty of food,” she assured me.

  “Good. Don’t leave this apartment for any reason, Julie,” I told her.

  “I feel like I’m in—” she started to say, but stopped before she could say the word jail. I guess she thought it would have been in bad taste, considering Benny’s position.

  “I’ll call you periodically to make sure everything is all right,” I told her.

  “Good, at least that way I’ll know that you’re all right.”

  “I’ll let the phone ring twice, then hang up, then call back. Don’t answer it otherwise.”

  “Okay, I’ll—oh, God, the phone,” she said suddenly.

  “What about it?”

  “At my place, you got a phone call. It was from that man you’ve been looking for.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me before?” I asked.

  “I haven’t had a chance to. You’ve been rushing me so much that I just didn’t think—”

  “Okay, forget that. What did he say?”

  “He said he wanted to meet you again and that he’d call you at your office at eight o’clock tonight.”

  I looked at my watch and saw that it was only five, so I had three hours to hit the streets and then get back to my office.

  My office? That thought had come pretty easily.

  “That gives me three hours,” I said aloud.

>   “To do what?”

  “To do whatever has to be done,” I told her. “Just sit tight and don’t worry. Everything is going to be fine.”

  “Yeah, just swell.” She looked over at Eddie’s TV and said, “Well, at least he’s got cable.” I don’t think she realized that she was talking as if Eddie were just away on a vacation.

  “Lock this door behind me,” I told her, “and remember, don’t answer the phone unless I ring twice first, and don’t answer the door. I won’t knock, because I’ll have the key. If somebody knocks, that means it’s not me and you pick up that gun. Do you understand?”

  “You’re scaring me again,” she said.

  “Julie—” I began, wanting to take her in my arms, but I stopped myself and said, “just lock the door after I leave, okay?”

  “Okay. Be careful.”

  “I will.”

  When I got to the street I was kind of at a loss as to where to go next. Where do you find a hit man in New York City when he doesn’t want to be found? He could be anywhere.

  He could be right behind me, following me.

  That thought gave me a chill, and I looked up and down the street. There were plenty of pedestrians, but none fit the description I’d gotten from Hocus.

  I began to walk downtown on Second Avenue, wondering who might have given Collins those three addresses if he hadn’t gotten them by following me. Obviously, the night that he’d tried to carve me up, he had been following the man from the fifth row, not me. And speaking of the man from the fifth row, how had he gotten all of those phone numbers? My home, the office, and Julie’s?

  I started to think about that more and more. The man was an old trainer, old in both senses of the word. He had to be over sixty years of age, and he had to have been working in the fight game years ago. Corky Purcell must have been a contemporary of his and had been trying to help him, obviously. He also ended up getting killed for it. What if there were other contemporaries of his trying to help him? If there were, who would they be? Somebody about the same age, who had also been working in the fight game a long time and who also knew me well enough to have those three phone numbers.