by Henry, Kane,
“Fine.”
“I’ll clear the decks for you, pal.”
“Thanks, pal. I’ll be there.”
I showered and dressed and contemplated the gun and holster and decided to leave them behind. You could get killed like that, but Nickie wasn’t one to molest people, not people he has invited to see him. The people might leave word as to where they were going and then Nickie might be involved and if there was anything Nickie shuddered away from that was from being involved. In anything. Nickie had said two o’clock, so I was there at one-thirty, just for the hell of it.
The word was in again. In reverse.
The bartender winked and waved and said, “Long time no see.”
The bouncer with the belly said, “How are you, Mr. Chambers?”
I patted the belly and I said, “What the hell. Business is business. No hard feelings?”
“Not me, Mr. Chambers. I work for a living. I dish it out and I can take it. I got no complaints. How’s for a handshake?”
“Why not, pal?”
We shook and he squeezed my hand and then he said softly, “Tell you this, pal, off the record. When I got business, I bring it to you. And so do my friends. You’re a quick one, and I like a quick one, and you don’t take no guff, and I like a guy don’t take no guff.”
“Thanks, sweetie.”
He grinned a grin that was more gum than teeth. “Don’t mention it, sweetie.”
I went upstairs. Oonda Hazen was on again and the customers’ eyes were riveted. I repeated my dimness-and-periphery routine, and I opened the door to Nickie Darrow’s office. I was early. Nickie Darrow wasn’t there, but the room wasn’t empty.
Aunt Ethel came toward me, swaying slightly. Aunt Ethel, in a tight black off-the-shoulder gown that emphasized every curve and protuberance of her hour-glass figure and Aunt Ethel had nothing if she didn’t have curves and protuberances, and I wish to state, right here and now, once and for all, Aunt Ethel had what it takes, and more. Haul off the Oonda Hazen, haul her off that floor, and substitute Aunt Ethel, and the customers’ eyes would remain just as riveted. Aunt Ethel leaned on me, and I enjoyed every inch of her. She said, “You too? I might have known.”
“Living it up, Aunt Ethel?”
“That Nick Darrow. A terrible man. No compassion, no soul, nothing.”
“Oh, not Nick Darrow …”
“Want I should kiss you, honey? I would enjoy a bit of kissing of you. You’re really the cutest.”
“Take a rain-check, Auntie love.”
“I’m in the mood, honey. When Auntie’s in the mood …” She wasn’t drunk but her eyes had more glare than a windshield on a desert.
Then the door opened and Nick Darrow came in. Quietly he said, “What the hell is going on here?”
Nick Darrow always spoke quietly. He was, as always, perfectly, dressed. He was tall and lean and broad-shouldered. His black hair was faintly and fashionably tinged with grey at the temples. He had blue eyes rimmed within long black lashes. He was always serene, always composed, but always, a muscle in his jaw kept jumping. He said, “Mrs. Fleetwood, I’ve told you time and time again — stay out of here.”
“You mean you don’t want my patronage?”
“I mean I don’t want you in my office.”
“I’m with a large party, dearie, outside.”
“Then stay with your party.”
“Nickie dear, all I want is a small favor.”
“Get your favors where you always get them. You’re not going to get them from me, because I don’t hand out those kind of favors. That’s not my business. Now … out … or I’ll have you thrown out.”
I clucked my tongue at him. “Is that a way to talk to a lady, Nickie dear?”
“Keep your nose out of my affairs, Petie dear.”
“You’re a beast,” she said, “aren’t you, Nickie?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He went to her and took her arm. “Out. You’re a gorgeous dame, but out. Go join your party.”
“Please help me, Nickie. Please.”
“You mean you can’t find your way?”
“You know what I mean, Nickie.”
His voice grew brambles. “Out, Mrs. Fleetwood.” He opened the door, shoved her through, closed the door, and locked it. Then he turned to me. “You know what she wants?”
“I’ve got my figure.”
“Horse. Nose-candy.”
“That was my figure. And for Horse, she’s certainly come to the horse’s mouth.”
“Very funny and very stupid. I run a night club here, period. Sit down, sleuth. Let’s talk.”
I sat.
He sat.
He said, “Where’s it tickling you, pal?”
“That kind of tickling, Nickie, I almost died laughing.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You kidding, Nick?”
“I mean it.”
“You on my back, Nickie?”
“Like how?”
“Somebody’s been blowing spitballs at me, Nickie. Any ideas?”
“No. Period.” He sounded convincing.
“Know a girl by name Trina Greco?”
“I’ve heard the name. Why?”
“You got a special interest there?”
“Me? You nuts? I never even seen this dame.”
“Then where’d you hear the name?”
“From Sandra Mantell. What’s bugging you?”
“Has Johnny Hays ever seen her?”
“Who?”
“Trina Greco.”
“Yeah. Johnny’s seen her.”
“It’s beginning to add up, Nickie.”
“What’s beginning to add up?”
“Listen. Your Johnny button-holed me a time back, while I was out with this Greco, and he told me to lay off her, and he told it to me — as a message from you.”
Darrow stood up and walked. “That ain’t the first time, the slimy little bastard. When he wants to scare a guy off … on his own personal quiff … he uses my name. This on the level?”
“You ever know me not to be?”
“Okay. Thanks. That little punk is scratched from here on in. I’ll put him to work in the sticks. Don’t worry no more about Johnny Hays.”
“I never was worried about Johnny Hays. I was worried about you. That little lobster wouldn’t be doing any serious shooting unless you knew about it, would he, Nickie?”
“No.”
“Then who the hell is on my back, Nickie, and why?”
He walked some more, then he turned to me and smiled. “You got your headaches, kid, and I got mine. I got nothing against you and I am’t on your back, period. Now let’s get to Sandra Mantell. I hear you covered up for me. I wanted to say thanks. So I’m saying it. Thanks. Anything else on your mind?”
“You mixed up in a snatch, Nickie?”
“Me? You crazy? What snatch?”
“Abner Reed.”
“He get heisted?”
“Yes. You know him?”
“I know him. Been a customer here. Married money-bags. She’s a customer here too. So her aunt and uncle. He get heisted, for real?”
“Big heist, Nickie.”
“What do you call big?”
“Seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars.”
The corners of his mouth turned down. “Big. Real big. I should have heard something. I ain’t heard nothing. Was it paid?”
“All of it. This is off the record, Nickie.”
“Sure. How do you know it was paid, peeper?”
“I paid it.”
Now his glance held admiration. “You’re a hip character. Always in on the action. You have a piece?”
“I had nothing. But your Sandra thought she did.”
“What are you talking about?”
I told him. I told him a good deal of it and I stressed her phone call. I said, “You ever mention my name to her?”
“Come to think of it, yeah, I did. She asked me about an eye th
at could be trusted, and I told her about you. She didn’t mention what it was about and I didn’t ask her. Told her you were the best, peeper.”
“My turn to say thanks. Now will you give me your last word on this snatch bit? Anything at all that might come to mind, anything that might help.”
He was very serious when he said, “Kid, listen. I don’t know one thing about it, or any other snatch. Kid, for guys like me, the snatch racket is out. There’s easier ways to turn a buck and with less risk.”
“What about Sandra’s murder? Any help on that?”
“I’m on your side there, kid, a hundred percent. You covered for me, and I appreciate it, but that was one cover I didn’t want. After your call, I went down to Headquarters, that’s why I wasn’t here when you came. Guy by the name of Parker is in charge, but he’d gone home. I talked to a Captain Weaver. I offered him a hundred percent co-operation. That’s that, kid, and you can check on it. Now on the Johnny Hays bit, I’ll take care of that. Anything else you want?”
“That’s all, Nickie. Don’t want a thing.”
“Fine. So go on outside and enjoy yourself. It’s on the house. And if you want to shack with that Hazen dame, you got it. Just tell her to come in here and see me.”
“No, thanks, Nickie. For tonight, I’ll pass.”
IX
I went home and I went to sleep. I had my usual nightmares but they didn’t waken me. I slept through most of the day. I heard the phone ring in my dreams, many times, but I let it ring. I stayed with my nightmares and when I woke at four in the afternoon I was cradled in perspiration. I bathed and had breakfast and read a book. I didn’t want to go to the office. I wanted one clean day. I didn’t want to mix in filth and thievery and murder. I wanted to shrink into being a small boy and I wanted to believe that all men are good and all women are pure. I have those moments — even as you — and I wanted to live in my preposterous illusions for one solitary day. But the phone rang again, and I couldn’t resist it and I was glad because it was Trina.
“How are you?” she said.
“Just dandy.”
“Wanna go to a show tonight?”
“With you?”
“Yes.”
“I’d love it.”
“My coach gave me a couple of tickets to Dead of Night.“
“A mystery?”
“Yes. I’m crazy about them.”
“Not me.”
“Why?”
“They scare me. I’ll go if you promise to hold my hand.”
“I promise.”
“And no Greek philosophy?”
“I’ll just hold your hand.”
“Maybe you’ll do better than that. Anyway, you talked yourself into an escort, plus dinner. Do I call for you, or do you call for me?”
“I moved out, Peter. I couldn’t stand it there. I’m at a hotel. I hate it. Dreadful, barren …”
“Okay. You call for me. We’ll have cocktails here, dinner out, your play, and after that … you’re the boss.”
“What time, Peter?”
“How’s seven?”
“Let me think.” There was a pause. “I’ve an hour of rehearsal left, then … okay, fine. I’ll see you at seven.”
But she saw me at six. She came to me breathless and excited and I had to hold back from kissing her. She had a little black book in her hand and she said, “I think … I think this might be important.”
“What is it?”
“A little book.”
“Well, thanks. I wouldn’t have known. Unless I was blind. Yours?”
“No.”
“Whose?”
“Sandra Mantell’s.”
“What are you talking about?”
“It was in my bag, in my locker, at rehearsal hall. It was in a bag that I don’t use much. She must have put it into my bag, at our apartment, by mistake. And I took it to rehearsal. And changed to another bag there, and I haven’t looked at this one, until today.”
“Gimme,” I said.
But all my anticipatory tremors didn’t produce one name in that book that meant a thing to me. I said, “You stay here, honey. Make yourself a couple of drinks and get real high for old Peter.”
“Where are you going?”
“Downtown to my friend Lieutenant Parker. This little book doesn’t mean a damn to me but it might be real big for him. Enjoy. I’ll be back in time for our dinner.”
I took a cab downtown to Headquarters, and the elevator took me up to Parker’s floor, and I was excited, so I barged into Parker’s office without knocking, but Parker had company. Company was a tall guy with a bruiser’s shoulders, a dancer’s figure, and an angel’s face — Abner Reed. I started backing out, but Parker called:
“Come in, come in, Peter.”
When Parker is busy and he’s that congenial, watch yourself, but it turned out, this time, he meant it. “You know Abner Reed, don’t you, Pete?”
“Yes. Saw him once when he was asleep. How do you do?”
Reed nodded. Parker said, “This is Peter Chambers.”
“How do you do?” Reed said.
Parker said, “Mr. and Mrs. Reed are going to Europe. Going away for a year’s stay. Making a ship tonight at ten. Dropped in for a last good bye. What brings you, Pete?”
I showed him. “Wouldn’t be legitimate without a little black book.”
“Black book?”
“It belonged to Sandra Mantell.”
“Mantell?”
“Yes. Seems she slipped it into her room-mate’s bag by mistake. Room-mate took bag to rehearsal hall and didn’t use this bag again until today, used another that she had kept there. Anyway, here’s a little black book that belonged to Mantell with a lot of names in it none of which mean a thing to me but they might to you. Grab a look, Lieutenant.”
The Lieutenant grabbed.
I turned to Reed. “You’ve heard about Miss Mantell?”
“Yes.”
“Mixed up with your kidnapping.”
“Yes, so the Lieutenant told me.”
I said, “Pardon me.”
“Yes,” he said. “So the Lieutenant told me.”
I tightened my face at him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you.”
“What’s the matter with you?”
“Little hard of hearing.”
He raised his voice. “I said — 'so the Lieutenant told me.’ ”
I had heard as much as I wanted to hear. I didn’t wait. I jumped him. He was big and I wanted the first punch and I got the first punch but he took it standing up and then he let loose a few of his own. From the corner of my eye I saw Parker rear up and I heard his roar: “Here. Stop it. Break it up. What the hell is going on here?”
By then we were mixing it like a couple of wild preliminary boys. I slipped by a couple of his lefts, but he punched too hard on one of them, which left him off balance and wide open and I was in perfect position and I came up with one off the floor with all of my weight behind it and it caught him clean on the button. His feet left the floor going up, and his head caught a corner of Parker’s desk coming down, and he went into a deep freeze, and he was going to stay frozen until someone thawed him out.
“You’re nuts,” Parker roared. “This time you’ve really gone and done it.”
“Precise moment,” I said.
“That’s assault and battery and this guy’s important and his wife has got millions of bucks. You’ve popped your cork this trip, crazo.”
“Precise moment,” I said.
Parker bent to him. “Here. Help me get him up. You’ve completely flipped your wig, pal.”
“Stay away from him, Louie.”
Parker peered up at me. “What are you talking about?”
“Precise moment,” I said.
“What the hell is this mumble you’ve gone into?”
“Greek philosophy. I’ll come to it. In due time.”
“What’ll you come to first?”
“A couple of answers to a lot of ques
tions that you and I have been throwing about, professor.” He straightened up. “Like which?”
“Like … why I was shot at in the graveyard … and shot up in my apartment. Like … why Sandra Mantell was killed. Like … why she called me in the first place. Like … why that gun had fingerprints …”
“Okay. Okay. One at a time.” Parker had temporarily abandoned the stiffened Abner Reed.
“Let’s take the last one first, Lieutenant. Fingerprints on a gun. A guy dropping it when he collides with a dame. Does that sound professional?”
“No.”
“If it rules out the professional, what does it leave in?”
“The amateur.”
“Very good, professor.”
“So …?”
“Let’s do it right side up now. Here’s a guy, Abner Reed — married himself a large hunk of dough — but he can’t reach too much of it because she’s … frugal … that’s the word … frugal.”
“So …?”
“So — on the suggestion of a friend of his — Miss Sandra Mantell — and you’ll find, I’m sure, with some real digging — that those two had a real close sub rosa association — ”
“Never mind what I’ll find out. Let’s get this over with first.”
“On her suggestion — for a piece of the proceeds — they figured out a beauty, how he could get himself a good chunk of Florence’s dough. The guy would kidnap himself. Remember Uncle Harry? The first phone call? Whom did he talk to? Abner Reed, nobody else. Remember the second phone call, to the wife? Whom did she talk to? Abner Reed, nobody else.”
It was beginning to shine in on Parker. “Yeah,” he said, “yeah …”
“He knew his wife. He knew how much in love she was. He knew she’d play ball. He knew she’d pay. Which she did.”
“Which explains the shooting at the cemetery, doesn’t it, kiddo?”
“And how it does. He played it alone. He knew I’d hear his voice which made me a loose remnant. So he brought a gun with him. If he knocks me off, that’s clear. But he missed, so he tried again, at my apartment, and that time, he almost made it.”
“Yeah,” Parker said.
“Explains another thing.”
“What?”
“The crap about his throat being injured. If he couldn’t talk, then I couldn’t hear him, and if by chance I was brought close to him, he was sick in the neck, couldn’t talk.”
