Williams shifted uneasily.
'There's nothing the matter with me,' he said shortly. He couldn't admit he was sick with fear. That kind of confession might get back to Terrell.
Lepski poked his head out of the car window and cursed a driver who was trying to cut in. The driver started to curse back, then seeing the black and white stripe on the car with the word POLICE on the hood, he hurriedly bit back his angry words.
Lepski sneered at him, then turned his attention once more to Williams.
'Relax. You can only die once. I'd rather get a slug in the gut than cancer.'
Williams flinched. He shifted lower in the car seat. His hot, sweating hand moved inside his coat and touched the butt of his .38. The feel of the cold metal gave him no comfort.
Parking, the two men walked into the bank and after a brief wait, they were shown into the manager's office.
The manager, lean and balding, was one of the best .22 rifle shots in Miami. He had shot against Lepski often enough and Lepski was one of the few members of the rifle dub who could match him. He beamed as he shook hands.
'I'll be at the club tonight,' he said. 'I have a pal coming who can shoot nearly as good as I can. Will you be there, Tom?'
'I guess not,' Lepski said regretfully. 'I have a murder hunt in my hair. If I can, I will if only to show your pal a trick or two.'
The manager whose name was Werner, laughed.
'What's this murder hunt, Tom?'
'A couple of hoods. Look, you could help. I don't expect you to give bank secrets away, but this is important. Has Lee Hardy asked you for money ... today or yesterday.'
'Now, Tom, you know that's not a proper question to ask.'
'Yeah, but we have reason to believe Hardy could have staked these two for a quick getaway. They are his men. So far they have murdered three not-so-important people. If we don't find them fast, they could murder others ... more important.'
Werner looked shocked. He hesitated, then said, 'All I can tell you is a certain party came here and wanted five thousand dollars. He was in the red, and I wouldn't give him credit. He was here around ten o'clock this morning.'
'Thanks,' Lepski said. 'Maybe I will be seeing you at the club tonight after all.'
When they got back to their car, Lepski said, 'Now we'll go talk to Hardy.'
'Think it would be an idea to call the Chief?' Williams asked without much hope. 'Maybe he would want to talk to Hardy himself.'
'We go talk to Hardy,' Lepski repeated and started the car. As he moved the car into the stream of traffic he went on, 'How are you with a gun, Bill?'
'Not so good,' Williams said, sweat on his face. 'I haven't been to the range for a couple of years. You know, Tom, this is beginning to bother me. Suppose we walk into those two?'
'What two?' Lepski asked. 'You mean Jacko and Moe? So what? They either come quietly or they come dead. Even if you are a lousy shot you couldn't miss a fat slob as big as Jacko. Shoot him in the gut ... that'll let the gas out of him!'
'Those two are pretty handy with a gun themselves,' Williams said miserably. 'My wife is expecting a baby.'
'Is that right? Well, so long as you don't have the baby, why should you worry?' Lepski said and swinging the car into a parking bay, he switched off the ignition. 'Come on: let's go talk to Hardy.'
The two men walked down the street until they came to Hardy's apartment block. Nearby, Lepski spotted a patrol officer. He signalled to him. The officer hurried up.
'Look, Jamey, I'm going to talk to Lee Hardy. I don't expect trouble, but I could walk into it. If you hear guns, get the boys. Understand? Don't come up and be a hero: get the boys. Then get back here and pop those two if they come out ... we're after Jacko and Moe.'
That seemed to make sense to the officer and Williams, who was now feeling pretty sick, envied him.
'Okay. There's a call booth at the end of the road,' the officer said. 'I hear shooting and I'll be in there faster than a Sputnik.'
Lepski sneered at him, then nodding to Williams, he walked into the apartment block. The porter, standing behind the big desk, eyed him suspiciously. He recognised him as a cop.
'Seen Mr. Hardy go up?' Lepski asked.
'He went up five minutes ago,' the porter said. 'If you want him, I'll call him.'
'No, you don't,' Lepski said, giving the porter a hard stare. 'Keep your paws off the telephone or I'll make your future life a misery.'
Then again nodding to Williams, he went across the lobby and entered the elevator. As they ascended to the top floor, Williams said, 'So what do we do now?'
'I'm not expecting trouble,' Lepski said. 'Hardy wouldn't be such a mug as to hide those two in his place. I ring on the bell and walk in. You keep out of sight, behind the wall. If trouble starts, then come in shooting, but for God's sake make sure you don't shoot me. Get it?'
Williams said he got it.
The elevator came to a halt opposite Hardy's ornate front door. Lepski and Williams moved out into the wide corridor. Lepski showed Williams where he should stand. He winked at him.
'Don't lay an egg,' he said. 'This should be an easy one.'
Williams watched him step up to the front door and ring the bell. He had to admire Lepski's cool courage. He was no more ruffled than if he were calling on a Mormon Bishop.
There was a pause, then the door opened and Gina stood there. Lepski could see into the lounge. Hardy and a tall, slim girl were staring towards him. He didn't hesitate. He walked forward, riding Gina out of his way.
'Hey! Who are you?' Gina said shrilly. 'What ...?'
But by then Lepski had entered the lounge. He and Hardy looked at each other. Hardy knew Lepski and he lost colour.
'What do you mean busting in like this?' he blustered. 'I'm busy. What is it?'
Lepski was now looking at Val with puzzled, probing eyes. Where had he seen this girl before? he asked himself. Who was she?
'Take it easy,' he said to Hardy. 'I don't know your girlfriend. Show some manners. Introduce me.'
'When I want you in my place, I'll invite you,' Hardy snarled. 'You ...'
'I said introduce me, boy.'
Gina came in.
'This is Mary Sherrek of the Miami Sun,' she said.
Lepski knew Mary Sherrek well. She often bothered him, trying to get information. He looked steadily at Val who faced him, her eyes big, her body tense.
'Is that right? I'm Detective Officer Tom Lepski. Always glad to meet the Press.'
'Miss Sherrek is leaving,' Gina said.
'Not right now.' Lepski moved so he could watch the three of them. 'She could have a nice little story for her paper. I'm great at giving press handouts. Stick around, sister. Get your little book ready.'
Hardy said, 'Just what do you want?'
'Jacko and Moe. Where are they?'
‘Why ask me? I don't know.'
Lepski spotted the briefcase lying on the settee.
'The Chief thinks otherwise. Those two are wanted for three murders. Now's the time to flap with your mouth or you can get caught with an accessory rap.'
Hardy hesitated. He was horribly aware that Jacko and Moe, in the bedroom, were listening.
'I tell you I haven't seen them for a couple of days,' he said finally.
'Too bad ... for you,' Lepski said and moved quickly to the briefcase, picked it up, snapped open the lock and emptied its contents on the settee.
Hardy cursed and moved towards Lepski who turned and grinned savagely at him.
'Want a poke in the kisser, Hardy?' he asked. 'What's all this money for?'
'It's betting money.' Hardy said. 'Now, get out of here!'
'I guess I'll look the joint over before I go,' Lepski said. 'Just in case...'
'Not without a warrant!'
'I can get one, but I'll look now.'
'You do it and I'll see you lose your badge,' Hardy said. 'I mean just that!'
Lepski knew he could get into trouble if he searched the penthouse without a war
rant. Hardy had connections with people important enough to put him in Dutch.
'Then I'll get a warrant. I have a couple of men outside. Why waste time, if you have nothing to hide?'
'Get out of here!' Hardy repeated.
Lepski shrugged.
'Okay, but I'll be back.' He started towards the door. 'Remember, there are two of my men outside. You stay right here until I get back.' As he passed Val, he took a firm grip on her arm.
'Let's go, Miss Sherrek. I have a story for you...'
Hardy and Gina stood motionless, watching Lepski lead Val out of the penthouse. Lepski closed the door behind him.
Williams, sweat beading his face, drew in a long slow breath of relief at the sight of Lepski.
'Okay?' he asked, staring at Val.
'I don't know. You stick here,' Lepski said. 'Don't let anyone out. I'm getting a warrant. If anyone tries to leave, get tough. Me and the little lady are going to headquarters. You'll have the boys with you in ten minutes.'
Williams gulped.
'Ten minutes?'
Lepski moved Val to the elevator.
'That's what the man said.' He nodded and thumbed the button. The doors swished to and the elevator began its smooth descent.
'Just who are you?' Lepski said, staring at Val with his hard cop's eyes. 'You're not Mary Sherrek. I know her ... so who are you?'
'There was a mistake,' Val said, fighting her panic. 'That man thought I was Miss Sherrek.'
'You don't work for the Miami Sun. I know all the dopes on that rag,' Lepski said. 'You'll have to come to headquarters, baby. The Chief will want to talk to you.'
Val controlled the urge to run. She stiffened and gave Lepski a cold stare.
'If you must know: I am Mrs. Valerie Burnett. My father is Charles Travers. You may have heard of him. I am not going with you!'
Lepski recognised her then. He felt as if he had stepped on the teeth of a rake and had the rake handle slam him in the face.
'I didn't know,' he said, sure Terrell would skin him if he caused trouble with the daughter of Charles Travers. 'I'm Sorry.'
Val forced a smile.
'It's all right,' she said and walked quickly out of the lobby. Lepski followed more slowly. He saw her wave to a taxi, get in and the cab drive away.
The Patrol Officer joined him.
'Stick right here,' Lepski said. 'There could be trouble. Williams is up there. I'm getting a search warrant. Watch it!'
Leaving the Patrol Officer staring after him, Lepski sprinted for his car.
***
Jacko came out of the bedroom. His fat face was running with sweat: his mean little eyes vicious.
'Let's have the money,' he said. 'We're off!'
'You heard what he said,' Hardy exclaimed. 'You can't go that way. There are cops out there!'
Moe slid into the room.
'No cop is stopping us,' he said. 'Let's have the dough.'
'You can't do it!' Hardy said, trying to control the quaver in his voice. 'You start shooting and they'll know I've been hiding you. We've got to think ...'
'Shut up!' Jacko snarled. He waddled over to the settee and began cramming the money into the briefcase. He mapped the case shut, then took Hardy's gun from his hip pocket and gave it to Moe.
'Now, wait ... for God's sake!' Hardy said.
'The girl ...' Jacko jerked his head at Gina.
'You leave her alone ... ' Hardy began when Moe reached him.
Moe hit him on the side of his head with his gun barrel. Hardy went down on hands and knees.
As Gina opened her mouth to scream, Jacko dug a hard fat finger into her stomach. She jack-knifed forward, gasping. He grabbed her and shook her viciously. The smell of stale sweat coming from him sickened her.
'Shut up!' he said. 'You go out there and talk to the cops. You make one false move and you'll get a second navel! Out!'
He gave her a shove towards the door. She staggered, recovered her balance, then under the threat of Jacko's gun, crossed the lobby. Jacko and Moe followed her. Jacko motioned her to open the front door. She hesitated, then opening the door, she stepped into the corridor.
Williams, gun in hand, gaped at her. Sweat beaded his face, his mouth was dry. He was scared out of his wits.
Gina stood staring at him.
'Get back!' Williams said. 'You stay right in there ... go on ... get back!'
Then Moe like an evil black ghost, slid around the doorway and his gun spat flame.
Williams didn't even see him. He felt a shocking thump in the middle of his chest and the gun slipped out of his hand. He went down, his face scraping along the lush carpet of the corridor.
He came to rest at Gina's feet. For a long moment, he twisted and turned, then he became still. Gina clapped her hands across her mouth and backed away from Moe who come further out into the corridor, his black eyes rolling, his mouth a vicious line. He paused to make certain there was no other cop in the corridor, then he moved into the elevator. Jacko came waddling out, carrying the briefcase. He was panting, his face ashen. He threw himself into the elevator as Moe groped for the button.
Hardy, rolling on his side, looked through the open doors of the lounge and the front door. He saw Jacko's massive body against the grill of the elevator. He pulled his borrowed gun from his hip pocket and fired in one lightning movement. The gun exploded as the elevator doors swished shut. Falling on her knees, Gina began to scream.
Moe heard the shot and saw Jacko heave back. He watched with horrified eyes the great mountain of fat slowly collapse like a stricken elephant. He saw the splash of blood below Jacko's left hand shirt pocket. He didn't have to touch Jacko to know that Hardy had killed him. Shuddering, his black face glistening with sweat, his lips drawn off his teeth, Moe snatched up the briefcase.
As the elevator came to rest and the doors swung open, Patrol Officer Jamey, gun in hand, came rushing blindly into the lobby. The two men fired simultaneously. Jamey's slug nicked Moe's left ear. Moe's slug took Jamey squarely between the eyes. Jamey went down like a poleaxed bull.
The sound of the shooting brought people out on to the street. Cars stopped. Two or three women began to scream.
Moe, panting, ran down the corridor to the basement stairs. The Janitor, poking his head out of his office, saw him, gave a smothered yell and threw himself flat on the floor. Moe swept past him and down the stairs.
Cursing, Moe blundered along a dimly lit corridor as the approaching sound of Police sirens added to his panic. He reached a door, pulled back two bolts, dragged the door open and stepped into hot sunshine and a narrow alley that led to the waterfront. He ran down the alley, paused at the end of it and looked back. There was a woman leaning out of a window in the apartment block, staring down at him: a fat, middle-aged woman with blue dyed hair. As she saw him look at her, she started back and began to scream.
Moe shoved the gun into the waistband of his jeans and walked quickly along the waterfront. Within fifty yards was FrisFris' bar. FrisFris had once been Moe's lover. He was a fat, elderly Jamaican, a reefer addict, who made a reasonable living organising a Call-boy service for the degenerate rich of Miami.
Moe entered the dark little bar. At this hour, only FrisFris was in the bar. He was dozing behind the counter, a sporting sheet spread out before him, a cup of cold coffee near at hand.
Moe grabbed his arm.
'Fris! Get me under cover! The cops are after me!'
FrisFris sprang out of his daydreams. He moved with the smoothness of a snake. Holding Moe's arm, he drew him into a room at the back of the bar, pulled aside a curtain, shoved Moe into another room where a man slept on a straw mattress, past the sleeping man and into a narrow corridor.
FrisFris fiddled with a hidden catch: a panel that looked like a continuation of the wooden wall slid back and he shoved Moe into a small recess.
'Wait, I'll fix it,' he said and closed the panel.
He scurried back to the bar, settled himself and closed his eyes. A minute l
ater, two patrol officers came in. One of them reached across the bar and slapped FrisFris across his fat face.
'Wake up, Queen,' the officer barked. 'Where's Moe Lincoln?'
FrisFris blinked the tears out of his eyes.
'Lincoln? I haven't seen him in weeks.'
The two officers, guns in hands, went through the sordid little building, but they didn't find Moe.
While the hunt for Moe was going on, the news of Williams' death was flashed to police headquarters. Terrell and Beigler bundled into a police car and rushed over to Hardy's penthouse. Lepski was already there.
Hardy lay on the settee. A livid bruise from Moe's gun showed on his white face. Gina, sick looking, her eyes dark with fear, sat in an armchair, sipping whisky.
Lepski was prowling around the room, jumpy and ready to hit out at anyone.
As Terrell and Beigler entered the apartment block, four white coated interns staggered out, carrying Jacko's gross body on a stretcher. Terrell stared at the vast mound of flesh, hidden under the sheet, grunted and then walked with Beigler to the elevator.
'This slob was hiding them,' Lepski said as Terrell and Beigler came into the penthouse. 'I don't give a damn what he says ... he was hiding them!'
'Okay,' Terrell said. 'Get after Lincoln. Tom. I'll handle this.'
Lepski snarled at Hardy who had slowly sat up. Then he walked out of the lounge.
Hardy knew as he met Terrell's cold, hostile eyes, that this was his moment of truth. He had either to play his cards right or he would land in the gas chamber.
'Chief ... they came here last night,' he said. 'Jacko and Moe. I was out. They settled in: threatening Miss Lang. When I came in, they told me they had knocked off Henekey. He had double-crossed them in some deal. They didn't say what. They wanted a getaway stake ... five thousand. At first, I wouldn't play, but they had me. They said if I didn't give them the money, they would crucify Gina Miss Lang. Those were Jacko's very words. When that hood promises to do something like that ... he does it. So I got the money. Then Lepski came here. Those two were in the bedroom. They heard Lepski tell me there was an officer outside. When Lepski left, they forced Gina to go out there and talk to the officer, then Moe went out and killed him.' Dramatically, Hardy tossed his automatic on the table. 'I killed Jacko. I admit it. When I heard the shooting, I grabbed my gun and fired at him as he got into the elevator.'
1964 - The Soft Centre Page 14
