He went over to the phone and dialed Nick Rovito’s home number, and pretty soon Nick Rovito himself came on the line, saying, “All You okay, boy?”
“I’m fine, Nick. You heard from Rose and the other guys?”
“They’ll pay, Al, I guarantee you they’ll pay.”
“Why? They were muscled into it. You can’t down a guy for doing something when he was muscled into it.”
“Al, boy, you got a heart as big as all outdoors, you know that, kid? To forgive like that, that’s a magnificent gesture.”
“Yeah, well …”
“Rose tells me I’ll get the rest of the story from you.”
“Yeah. A woman named Margo Kane hijacked Charlie’s body in order to …” And for the next five minutes Engel told the full story, leaving out only the final discovery about the blue suit. When he was done, Nick Rovito said, “Well, that’s the way it goes. Burned up, huh?”
“Cremated. Nothing left but ashes.”
“That disappoints me, but it could be worse. I could of not found out the truth about you, huh, kid? I could of gone on thinking you were disloyal and a bastard. I’m happy to have it straightened out, kid. It’s worth the loss of the snow to have you back.”
“What about the Menchik frame?”
“Squared. Done tonight, within the last hour. We worked hard, kid, believe me we did. And cost? An arm and a leg. You know, it cost just as much as if you’d been guilty!” And Nick Rovito laughed.
Engel said, “That’s good. So I’m in the clear.”
“Right. Take a week off, a couple weeks, then come in, we’ll—”
“No, Nick.”
“What’s that?”
“Not after what’s happened, Nick. I don’t work for you any more.”
“Kid, I squared it, it’s all square.”
“Not with me, Nick. We’re quits. No hard feelings, but I just don’t want to work for you any more.”
Suspicion in his voice, Nick Rovito said, “You got an offer from somebody else? Winocki in Chicago?”
“Nobody else, Nick.”
“Let me tell you something. You say you want to quit, okay, quit. But all the way, kid. If you quit, it means out of the organization all the way. I send your name down to the Committee, nobody should ever hire you. Nobody’s out for you, but nobody hires you.”
“That’s okay, Nick. I want to stay out of the organization anyway.”
“Well, I think you’re crazy. You got a great future with the organization. Some day you could be one of the guys on the Committee yourself.”
“No, Nick.”
“Have it your own way,” Nick Rovito said grumpily, and hung up.
Engel gathered up his underwear and went home.
24
There was a note on the door, stuck on as usual with a false fingernail, and written so belligerently with flame-red lipstick that the words were just barely legible. It read, more or less:
All right for you,
you rat!
I’m going back
to Cal.
Good-bye, you
BASTARD!!!!!
Again there was no signature, and again none was needed.
Engel plucked the note from the door, unlocked the door and went on into the apartment. He shut the door, crossed the foyer, entered the living room, and found Callaghan sitting on the white leather sofa. He was in civvies, and it was amazing how much he looked like Jimmy Gleason on a bad day.
Engel said, “Didn’t you get the word? I’m clean.”
“Like you were washed with Brand X,” said Callaghan. He pushed himself to his feet. “That wasn’t my jurisdiction anyway,” he said. “You worked that little miscarriage of justice over in Jersey.”
“Let’s put it this way,” said Engel. “It was a frame.”
“It always is,” said Callaghan.
“This time it was. Think about it, wasn’t it too neat? And wasn’t it too easy? If I’m nothing else, I’m anyway a professional.”
Callaghan frowned. “The thought had crossed my mind,” he said. “But I wouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth. If I could get you, Engel, I wouldn’t care if it was a frame or not.”
Engel shook his head. “You’re an honest cop,” he said. “You wouldn’t do that.”
Callaghan turned away and rubbed his hand across his face. “You smart boys,” he said.
“I’m out of the rackets,” Engel told him.
“Sure you are.”
“On the level. I quit Nick tonight. Because of the frame, and some other things. He didn’t give me a square deal.”
Callaghan studied him a minute and then said, “You know what? I don’t care about that for a minute. I came here to tell you something, and it don’t matter to me who you work for, what I got to say still applies.”
“Go ahead.”
“I’m after you, Engel. If you’re smart, you’ll get out of New York till you hear I’m retired or dead, because I’m out to get you. I got a very small, a very select list of names, and you just joined it.”
“How are the other guys on the list doing?”
“Most of them died in the chair, Engel. A few of them I go up the river to Sing Sing and pay them a visit every once in a while. The only reason I pay any attention to a punk like you is the list is getting so short these days.” Callaghan picked up a battered civilian hat from the sofa. “I’ll be seeing you around, Engel,” he said.
‘Yeah,” said Engel. “Sure.”
Callaghan left, and Engel made himself a drink to calm his nerves. After everything was settled, to have Callaghan still breathing down his neck was less than cheery news.
The phone rang. He went over and picked it up and heard, “Aloysius, I’ve been calling and calling and—”
“California,” said Engel.
“Now, you just stop that. I don’t want to hear another word about California. What I want to know is, are you coming to dinner tomorrow night or aren’t you? I’m only your mother, but—”
“That’s it,” said Engel. “Good-bye forever.” He hung up, strode to the bedroom, and packed two bags while the phone rang. After a while the bags were all packed and the phone had stopped ringing, so he picked it up and called Dolly’s friend Roxanne to find out what Dolly’s California address was. Roxanne told him, and then said, “Boy, Al, she was sore at you. You should of called or something.”
“Yeah,” said Engel. “I was kind of busy. But that’s all over now.”
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Copyright © 1966 by Donald E. Westlake
ISBN: 978-1-4532-2829-6
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