Mickey Spillane - The Tough Guys

by Short Stories (lit)

  CHAPTER FIVE I walked around the house and went in the back way where Annie was cleaning up in the kitchen. When I tapped on the door her head jerked up, birdlike, and she put the tray of dirty glasses in the sink and minced to the porch, flicked the light on and peered out into the dark. ÓYes. . .who is it?Ô ÓCat, honey. Open up.Ô She smiled happily, pulled the latch and I stepped inside. ÓMy word, boy, what are you doing coming in the backway? You are a Bannennan.Ô ÓHell, Annie, itÒs the only way I was ever allowed in the house anyway. You forget?Ô ÓWell you donÒt have to do that now.Ô ÓThis time I did,Ô I said. ÓI want to talk to you before I see them.Ô Her mouth seemed to tighten up and she half turned away. ÓIf you donÒt mind . . . IÒm . . . only an employee. Please . . .Ô ÓIn the pigÒs neck. You were the only old lady I ever had. If it hadnÒt been for you and Anita they would have starved me out long before I left. The Bannermans donÒt have room for a bastard in their great halls of luxury.Ô I put my arm around her and led the way to the breakfast niche and sat down opposite her. ÓLook, honey. Nothing goes on around here that you donÒt know. You have eyes like an eagle and ears like a rabbit and there isnÒt a keyhole or pinprick in a wall you havenÒt peeked through. Any secrets this family have, you have too, even if you do keep them locked behind sealed lips. ThatÒs well appreciated if itÒs for the good, but right now something is wrong and thereÒs big trouble going on . . .Ô ÓYou . . . can only make it worse.Ô ÓDo you know about it?Ô She hesitated, then her eyes dropped in front of my gaze. ÓYes,Ô she said simply. ÓSo whatÒs the pitch.Ô ÓI... donÒt think I should tell you.Ô ÓI can find out the hard way, Annie. The trouble might get worse then.Ô She fidgeted with the salt shaker on the table a moment, then looked up. ÓItÒs Rudy,Ô she said. ÓHe killed the attendant at the Cherokee Club.Ô ÓWhat?Ô She nodded. ÓItÒs true. He was drunk and he gets mean when heÒs drunk and doesnÒt get his own way. He ... went to get his car and the attendant thought he had too much to drink to drive and wouldnÒt get the car and Rudy . . . went back inside . . . and got the knife . . . and stabbed him.Ô I reached over and grabbed the fragile hand. ÓWho says so, Annie?Ô ÓThose two men . . . they were there. They had just driven up.Ô The picture began to form then. ÓSo they picked up the knife after Rudy ran for it and they got the thing with his fingerprints all over it,Ô I stated. ÓYes.Ô ÓWhat does Rudy say about it?Ô She shook her head sadly. ÓHe doesnÒt remember a thing. He was drunk and sick. He canÒt remember anything.Ô ÓAnd now they want money, is that it?Ô ÓYes ... I think so. I ... really donÒt know.Ô ÓEverybody inside?Ô ÓTheyÒre waiting for Vance. Yes, theyÒre inside.Ô I got up, gave her hand a squeeze and told her not to worry. Then I went out the kitchen, through the hall into the library where the clan was gathered looking like they were waiting for a bomb to hit. From the expression on their faces, when they saw me, they saw the bomb coming. Old Uncle Miles grabbed the arms of the chair and his face turned white. Rudy, who had been pacing the floor with his hands behind his back, suddenly became too flaccid to stand and tried to look nonchalant as he settled on the arm of the chair Teddy was cowering in. Only Anita seemed genuinely glad to see me, her smile erasing the worry look as she left the couch to come across the room with her hand out. I knew what she was thinking, all right; she could steer me out of there before I churned things up. But even she wasnÒt going to stop what I was going to do. I hooked my arm under hers and went to the desk where Miles was glowering at me and sat on the edge. Everybody had something to say, but nobody wanted to speak. I looked at chubby cousin Rudy and said, ÓHear youÒre sweating a murder charge, cousin.Ô That was the bomb going off. You could hear the hiss of breath, the sucking sounds, the sudden jerking movements as the words hit them. All Anita did was tighten her hand on mine and look down at the floor. ÓHow . . . did you find out?Ô Over my shoulder I said, ÓEasy, Uncle. I just asked around. I saw Gage and Matteau here and put two and two together. To me they add up. Dear cousin RudyÒs got his ass in a sling he canÒt get out of and itÒs about time it happened. IÒm happy for one thing though . . . IÒm here to see it. And it doesnÒt only hit the fat slob, it breaks down to Teddy and you too, Miles. YouÒll never hold your heads up around here again. From now on youÒll be the joke of the community and when they strap old killer Rudy there in the chair the Bannerman family comes to a screaming halt.Ô Rudy looked like heÒd get sick. Miles kept swallowing hard, his scrawny chest gulping air. ÓAnd me, Cat?Ô Anita asked. ÓYouÒre going to be a Colby, honey. You wonÒt be wearing the Bannerman name.Ô ÓDo you think heÒll have me?Ô ÓDoes he know about this?Ô ÓYes, he does. HeÒs helping all he can.Ô ÓHow?Ô She glanced at Miles, wondering whether to tell me or not, then made the decision for herself. ÓHeÒs tried to make a settlement with those men. HeÒs threatened them and everything else, but they canÒt be moved. They . , . want an awful lot of money.Ô ÓHow much?Ô Rudy broke in, his voice weak. ÓSee here, Anita . . .Ô ÓShut up, Rudy,Ô I said. He did, and fast. ÓGo on, Anita.Ô ÓA... million dollars.Ô I let out a soft, slow whistle. ÓWell, it looks like RudyÒs making a real dent in the family budget. What are you going to do about it?Ô They all tried to look at each other at once. I caught the exchange and grinned at them. Finally Miles croaked, ÓWeÒll see that ... it is paid, not that it is any of your affair.Ô ÓAnd what happens?Ô I slid off the desk, turned around and leaned on it and faced Miles down. ÓRudy gets off the hook and the Sanders guy eventually gets nailed by the cops. HeÒs got a prison record and a possible motive for killing Maloney. HeÒs got no alibi and he loused things up by taking off when he heard of the killing. ThereÒs no murder weapon for evidence and the jury thinks it has a solid case and gives him the black verdict and the guy gets the chair. How are the Bannermans going to feel then when they know one of their own is responsible for the death of two people now and the real killer is inside their own house?Ô Rudy did get sick then. He let out a soft moan, grabbed his stomach and ran from the room. Miles said, ÓWhat are you . . . thinking of?Ô I straightened up and glanced around the room. ÓI donÒt know. I sure got an ax over your heads now. You beat me to the ground when I wasnÒt old enough to fight back and now I might have some fun.Ô ÓOh, Cat. . . .Ô AnitaÒs eyes were bright with tears. She looked at Miles first, then Teddy and at Rudy who came back with a face as white as snow. ÓDonÒt do that to them . . . theyÒre such . . . such nothings anyway.Ô I nodded, ÓDonÒt feel sorry for them sugar, maybe I can instill some character in them. Maybe Rudy will get an urge of integrity and decide to come clean.Ô One look at Rudy made that a joke. Rudy wasnÒt going to confess to anything. I had something else to tell them they would like to have heard, but the entrance of Vance Colby stopped that. He strode into the library as if it were his own, immediately sensed the situation and said directly to Anita in an accusing tone. ÓYou told him.Ô She let go my arm. ÓHe found out by himself.Ô ÓAnd may I ask what this matter has to do with you?Ô ÓIf youÒre looking for a smack in the chops youÒre going about it the right way, buddy.Ô His smile was hard and the curious glint in his eyes painted the picture nicely. The casual way he walked up didnÒt hide the sudden bunching of muscles under his coat. He said, ÓAm I?Ô And before he could start the judo chop I belted him in the damn mouth so hard the skin of my knuckles split on his teeth and he rolled twice before the couch stopped him and he looked up at me with a face full of hate as big as your hat. He was one of those over-confident types who had put in too many hours in a gym wearing a Jap toga and practicing un-American fighting and he forgot about a straight right to the kisser. Hell, IÒd had it out with dozens of these types before. ÓThe next time I may shoot you, Vance.Ô I pushed my coat back to get at a handkerchief for my hand and let him see the .45. He didnÒt answer. He kept both hands to his mouth and tried to sit up. ÓArenÒt you going to help him, Anita?Ô ÓNo,Ô she said solemnly, ÓI knew what he was going to do. IÒve seen him do it before. I think Vance needed that lesson. He can get up by himself.Ô Very gently, I leaned down and kissed the top of her head. ÓThanks, kitten.Ô I took her arm and started out the library. At the fron
t door I said, ÓLook, IÒd sooner see them sweat than start trouble, but donÒt you get involved in this mess. That Maloney kill is still wide open and thereÒs no statute of limitations on murder. ThereÒs something fishy going on here and IÒm going to dig it out. I want you to do me a favor.Ô ÓWhat, Cat?Ô ÓLet me know what they plan to do. Everything, okay?Ô ÓOkay, darling.Ô She frowned at what she said, then smiled softly. She reached up and touched my face. ÓI can trust you.Ô ÓYou wonÒt get hurt,Ô I told her. I kissed her mouth and the tip of her nose, but it wasnÒt enough. She was back there in my arms again for one fierce moment and it was us, just us and no one else. I knew my fingers were hurting her arms and I pushed her away feeling my heart smashing against my ribs. ÓWeÒll make it, baby.Ô ÓNo ... we never can. I wish . . . but we canÒt.Ô I left her like that and went out to the car. At any time now the stuff was going to hit the fan. At the motel I told the clerk at the desk IÒd be around a little while yet, paid the bill up to date and went to my room. I double locked the door, shoved the .45 under my pillow, showered and flaked out with the radio playing softly in my ear. Popeye Gage and Carl Matteau. They came to town behind a bagman who carried a hundred grand and it could be it was to set up an operation for Matteau. Luck played into their hands when they saw Maloney killed and picked up the evidence. His original investment had now increased tenfold if he pulled it off. I reached to switch the radio off when the late news came on from the local station and the first item the announcer read off was that Guy Sanders, prime suspect in the Chuck Maloney murder, had been picked up in Seattle, Washington and arrangements were being made for his extradition.

  CHAPTER SIX The morning papers had it all laid out. There was a full statement from the D.A. who claimed there was no doubt concerning SandersÒs guilt and felt certain a confession could be obtained after an interrogation. He rehashed the details of the crime and stated that Sanders would be brought to trial as soon as feasible. On the inside pages an editorial went through it again, crying out the need for justice and lauding the D.A. for his attitude concerning the affair. It looked like Sanders had had it. As far as the city was concerned, the investigation was over. Only the prosecution remained. After I got dressed and ate I drove around for two hours checking out the properties Simon Helm had suggested to me, jotting down quick notes so I could have an intelligent though phoney conversation with him. When I finished it was a little after ten a.m. and I got to his office just as he was coming in. For the kind of deal he was hoping to set up with me he was willing to forego all other engagements and took me back into his office with orders to his secretary not to disturb us. She had coffee ready, set us up and left. ÓNow, Mr. Bannerman, how did you like the sites I pointed out?Ô ÓOnly two have possibilities,Ô I said. ÓThe old Wit-worth estate and the Flagler Hill section. However, they both lack one essential ... a water table sufficient to my needs.Ô ÓHow would you know about that?Ô he asked with a degree of surprise. ÓWhen you know how to ask questions you get some great answers. ItÒs my business.Ô ÓWell, I heard this rumor, but never gave it a thought. My, we have to find something else quickly.Ô ÓIÒll tell you what I have in mind.Ô ÓOh?Ô ÓYouÒll have to investigate the deal . . . but itÒll all be a matter of public record anyway. Check out that property my future cousin-in-law has next to the proposed city marina.Ô ÓBut Mr. Bannerman . . .Ô ÓFor my purposes itÒs ideal. The building will be modern, handsome, the Industry smokeless, the access highways are at hand ... a railroad siding can be extended from the Tompson works and the benefits to the city will be far greater than that of another gambling casino.Ô ÓBut . . .Ô ÓNo buts, Mr. Helm. If you donÒt want to handle it there are others.Ô He couldnÒt fight that attitude. He shrugged and drank his coffee. ÓVery well, IÒll see how far things have gone. However, if it is not possible . . .Ô ÓThen IÒll have to take something else,Ô I finished for him. ÓHow long will it take?Ô He glanced at the clock on the wall. ÓIf I get to it right away . . . perhaps this afternoon.Ô I got up and reached for my hat. ÓIÒll be back later.Ô ÓCertainly, Mr. Bannerman,Ô he said, rolling his tongue around the name. Hank Feathers didnÒt reach his office until a little before noon. I whistled out the window of the car and he came plodding across the street all grin and crinkly eyes and got in beside me. ÓStep on any toes?Ô I asked him. ÓWell now, son, I donÒt know yet. I got up around the Maloney place and funny enough I know quite a few people up there. One of our printers has a place two houses away and a garrulous wife. Anyway, after due poking around I came up with a lot of answers.Ô ÓGossip or answers?Ô ÓYou do the separating,Ô Hank said. ÓThis Maloney woman has quite a neighborhood reputation. She made no bones about her conduct, rather enjoying the Madame Pompadour concept. She had plenty of visitors, plenty.Ô ÓAnybody special?Ô ÓDonÒt jump the gun, son,Ô he smiled, holding up his hands. ÓRudy Bannerman was positively identified having tried to gain admittance on two occasions, both times while he was crocked. One, during an afternoon, he was seen for better than an hour in her back yard while she was sunbathing. The whole thing was observed and though he was well tempted by that lovely dish, he stoutheartedly left before the husband returned.Ô ÓGood for him.Ô ÓThe suspect Guy Sanders made several surreptitious trips to visit Irish and twice was seen with her in a neighborhood bar. ItÒs enough to hang him.Ô ÓTheyÒll sure try it.Ô ÓBut hereÒs the interesting note. From a couple of very nosey sources, one an old lady given to staying up late and the other our printerÒs wife who has some odd habits including insomnia, I learn that there was one fairly common visitor to the Maloney household when the husband was on the late shift at the Cherokee Club.Ô ÓAny description?Ô ÓVery little. He was always dressed in a suit or topcoat, wore a hat and moved fast. Generally he drove up, apparently at a specified time and she came out, joined him in the car and they drove away.Ô ÓCar?Ô ÓWhat old dame can identify a new car at night? It was a dark one, thatÒs all. They suspect that he was Sanders.Ô ÓGreat. What do you think?Ô Hank shrugged, looked at me and said, ÓThe guy was thin ... so is Sanders. Rudy Bannerman is chubby. At least it wasnÒt him. Anything else you want me to get in trouble over?Ô ÓIÒll think of something.Ô He opened the door and stepped but, then remembered something and said, ÓBy the way, I bumped into a guy who wants to see you very badly. A friend of your old manÒs.Ô ÓWho?Ô ÓGeorge P. Wilkenson, the family solicitor.Ô ÓWilkenson? Damn, he must be ninety years old.Ô ÓNinety-three. HeÒs still active. Anyway, I told him you were back and he said it was urgent you get up and see him. He lives back in the past these days and can still chew your ears off. He and your old man were great fishing buddies.Ô ÓIÒll say hello before I leave,Ô I said. ÓAnd hey . . . whoÒs a cop you can trust? Somebody with a gold badge.Ô ÓTry Lieutenant Travers. Tell him I recommended him.Ô I waved so-long, drove back downtown and cut over to the Municipal Building that housed the First Precinct and went in and asked for Lieutenant Travers. The desk sergeant made the call, told me to go on back and gave me directions. Travers was pretty young as Lieutenants go, but he had all the little earmarks that stamped him as a professional law enforcement officer. Tough when he had to be, smart always, cute when necessary and suspicious eternally. He gave me one of those long slow up-and-down looks when I walked in, was ready enough with a handshake and an invitation to sit down and had I not left the .45 and the speed rig in the car he would have spotted it and shaken me down on the spot. He caught the name, but it didnÒt cut any ice with him at all. ÓRelated to the Bannerman family locally?Ô He held out a pack of butts and I shook my head. ÓIn a way. IÒm a bastard.Ô His eyes jumped up. ÓA real one . . . born out of wedlock and all that crap.Ô He sucked on his cigarette. ÓYeah, IÒve heard that story. Now, what can I do for you?Ô ÓIÒve recognized two Chicago hoodlums in this town, Lieutenant. One is Popeye Gage and the other Carl Matteau.Ô Travers watched me, swung slowly in his chair a few times and said, ÓI know theyÒre here, but how did you recognize them, Mr. Bannerman?Ô I had to grin. ÓGot in a little deal in Chicago once and they were pointed out as Syndicate men. They both have rec
ords and I thought you might like to know about it.Ô ÓUh-huh.Ô He took another big drag on the butt and laid it down. ÓWe appreciate your being civic minded, but thereÒs nothing we can do. Is there a complaint youÒd like to lodge?Ô ÓNope, but since IÒm considering relocating back here I donÒt want any Syndicate people moving in on any business I have in mind.Ô ÓThen donÒt worry about it, Mr. Bannerman. Unfortunately, in any state that has legalized gambling, there is a certain amount of outside interference and an influx of off-color characters. In this case, Matteau is clean and has applied for a gambling license although his location is not specified. Knowing local politics, IÒd say heÒll have it accepted. Nevertheless, heÒll be well investigated and will comply with all state and local laws.Ô I eased out of the chair and said, ÓThanks, Lieutenant. ItÒs nice to know weÒre all safe from the criminal element.Ô For some reason he gave me a funny look, his eyes slitted almost shut and grinned right across his face. ÓItÒs nice to be appreciated, Mr. Bastard Bannerman.Ô I laughed at him, threw a wave and went back to my car. Fifteen minutes later I parked in the rear of the Bannerman Building on Main Street and took the elevator up to RudyÒs office where the receptionist told me she was sorry, but nobody could see Mr. Bannerman without an appointment. When I said I was Cat Bannerman and she had no choice she reached for the intercom until I switched it off and she took one look at my face and thought it better to head for the ladiesÒ room. My chubby cousin had a nice setup. All the accoutrements for the idle rich. A mahogany desk, antique furniture, a well organized bar, golf clubs stacked in the corner with parlor-putting devices in a rack on the wall, a couch under a row of book shelves, a stereo hi-fi set and TV built into the walls and that was the order of business. Except for Rudy Bannerman. He was stretched out on the couch with a wet towel across his forehead and when he saw me he pulled the towel off and sat up with an expression of pure fear on his face. ÓHello, Cousin,Ô I said. I toed a chair in close to the couch and sat down. ÓYouÒre shook, cousin. YouÒre thinking of what it feels to be a killer. YouÒre going through the pain of relief because they finally caught up with Guy Sanders.Ô ÓCat . . .Ô He licked his lips nervously. ÓIÒll tell you, cousin, but first I want some answers. Talk back or hand me any crap and IÒll slap you silly. WeÒre not kids any more. YouÒre not a few years older and twenty pounds heavier where it counts. Now youÒre older and a pig and I can tear your ears off.Ô He couldnÒt take it. He flopped back on the couch reaching for the towel. I said, ÓYou had a picture of Irish Maloney in your room. Where did you get it?Ô ÓI... from the display at the Club.Ô ÓWhy?Ô He came up from the couch, his face livid. ÓI donÒt have to put up with this! IÒm going to call the police. IÒm . . .Ô ÓKnock it off.Ô Rudy looked like he was going to have some kind of attack. He came apart in little pieces until his round body began to heave with jerky sobs and once again he went back into the contour of the couch and stayed there. ÓI asked you a question. If you want the police, they can ask it.Ô ÓShe . . . was nice.Ô ÓHow often did you see her?Ô ÓShe didnÒt want to see me. I was a Bannerman and that tramp ...Ô ÓHow often, Rudy?Ô ÓA ... few times, thatÒs all. She ... she didnÒt like me.Ô ÓI wonder why.Ô ÓShe didnÒt have to say the things she did.Ô ÓHow did you kill him, Rudy?Ô His head rolled toward the wall. ÓI donÒt remember. I was . . . drunk. Sick.Ô ÓWhen did they put the bite on you?Ô ÓWho?Ô ÓGage and Matteau. When did they make their offer?Ô I asked him. ÓTwo days later. They . . . went to father. He had Vance see them. There was nothing we could do. Nothing at all.Ô His voice trailed off to a whisper.Ô ÓWhen do they want the dough, Rudy?Ô He was on his side now, not able to look at me at all. He was like a baby in bed, seeking the comfort of crib and covers. ÓSaturday,Ô he got out. Three days from now. To get a million bucks up meant a lot of converting and it wasnÒt going to be easy and here was this slob sitting on his tail crying. Whatever stocks and properties were going into the pot for this little venture must be damn negotiable to be taken so lightly. In this day of taxes and paperwork a million bucks to line a hoodÒs pockets wasnÒt easy to lay hold of. Taxes alone on that kind of loot would be enormous. ÓWhoÒs handling the arrangements, Rudy?Ô ÓVance . . . heÒs doing everything.Ô ÓWhy him?Ô ÓFather is ... sick. He gave Vance our power of attorney.Ô I climbed out of the chair and started towards the door. This time Rudy turned over when he heard me leaving. The pathos on his face was disgusting. ÓWhatÒre you . . . going to do, Cat?Ô ÓI donÒt know,Ô I said. ÓMaybe IÒll turn you in and watch you burn.Ô Petey Salvo lived in the house he had been born in. There was a kid in a carriage, a couple more under school age tearing the flower beds up and a twelve year old boy sick in bed with a cold. The others were in their classrooms and Petey was trying to grab a bite and argue with his wife at the same time. At least I got him off the hook in a hurry. A Banner-man coming to visit the Salvos was the biggest day in her life and when he introduced me the busty doll in the pink housecoat with a headful of curlers almost broke a track record getting into the bedroom to get herself straightened out and when she came back she looked at her husband with a totally different look in her eyes and I knew from then on things were going to be different around there. Petey caught the bit too and winked at me over his coffee cup and told her to blow with a voice of authority and like a dutiful wife she left bowing and scraping like I was the baron of Bannerman Estates. Luckily, he didnÒt mention I was the bastard one. He shoved some biscuits my way and I buttered up. ÓHowÒre your contacts around town, Petey?Ô ÓLike what?Ô ÓTwo hoods are in from Chi. I want them located.Ô I gave him their names and descriptions and he took them down in his head. ÓNo trouble. Maybe need a day.Ô ÓToo long.Ô ÓSo I put out the word and we grab Ñem. These the same ones hit you in the motel?Ô ÓThatÒs right.Ô ÓI thought so. I was wondering when you was gonna move in. You never let yourself get took before.Ô ÓI had a reason, Petey.Ô ÓFigured that too. How do you want to work it?Ô ÓJust get Ñem spotted. IÒll do the rest.Ô ÓLike hell, Cat. If this ties in with Chuck I want part of it.Ô ÓYouÒll get cut hi, buddy. I have a feeling IÒm going to need you.Ô ÓYouÒll buzz me in a coupla hours. IÒll see what I can do, okay?Ô ÓGot it.Ô Simon Helm had had visions of money dangled before his eyes. He was waiting for me with photostats of the records he had accumulated and all the additional information he had picked up. He pulled a chair out for me, got behind the desk and swung the folder around for me to view his massive efforts in my behalf. ÓThere it is, Mr. Bannerman, but IÒm afraid itÒs all too late. Vance Colby picked up the option on that property for ninety thousand dollars. The option to be exercised within three months. The property alone is worth in the vicinity of a quarter million and his proposed installation will go a half million, at least. At this point I donÒt know if he is acting for himself, or another party, but in view of his past and knowing his method of operation, IÒd say he was simply first man in a deal. You understand?Ô ÓI get the picture. The property is out, right?Ô ÓDefinitely. The money has changed hands. The option has been signed. IÒm afraid youÒll have to consider other properties.Ô I shoved my hat back and wiped my face. ÓGuess IÒll have to. IÒll take a run out and look at the other places tomorrow. Sorry to put you to all the trouble.Ô ÓNo trouble at all, Mr. Bannerman. Take your tune and if you need any help, just call on me.Ô ÓThanks, Mr. Helm, I will. Count on it.Ô I got gas down the corner and put in a call to the house. Annie answered and when I asked for Anita, put her on. I said, ÓCat, honey.Ô ÓWhere are you?Ô ÓIn town. You have any news?Ô When she spoke her voice was hushed. ÓUncle Miles is in his room with Teddy. TheyÒve had people here all day and didnÒt want me around. That one man was here too.Ô ÓThe older guy, Matteau?Ô ÓThatÒs the one.Ô Very softly she said, ÓCat . . . whatÒs happening?Ô ÓTrouble, baby. WhereÒs Vance?Ô ÓHe just left. It was . . . terrible. They wonÒt back down. They want all that money and . . .Ô ÓDonÒt worry about it, Anita.Ô ÓI heard that . . . that . . . Matteau tell Vance ... if he didnÒt get everybody straightened out somebody else would get killed. HeÒs vicious. Cat . . . please help us, please.
Vance is doing all he can, converting all his properties to help Uncle Miles. Cat, IÒm frightened.Ô ÓRelax, doll. IÒm beginning to get ideas. You just sit tight, hear?Ô ÓI canÒt. Oh, please, Cat, do something.Ô ÓI will, baby,Ô I said. ÓI will.Ô I hung up and stared at the phone a moment. A lot had fallen into place, now it was time to play the calculated hunches. I made a collect call to the coast and got Marty Sinclair and gave him the dope I wanted. I told him to push it and reach me anytime at night at the motel if he had to, otherwise IÒd call him back tomorrow. Then I went home. I parked the car, opened the door, walked in and flipped on the light. She was laying there naked as a jaybird on my bed with her clothes strewn all over the floor and a cigarette burning in her fingers. I said, ÓHowÒd you get in here, Irish?Ô ÓTold the desk clerk I was your wife.Ô She held up her hand with the rings on it. ÓHe simply looked at this and thought youÒd appreciate the surprise. Do you?Ô ÓLove it. You donÒt mourn long, do you?Ô ÓHardly a minute, Mr. Bannerman.Ô I looked at her sharply and she caught it. ÓCat Cay Bannerman,Ô she said. ÓThe desk clerk told me that too. Like you said, you are big. But you didnÒt know Chuck in the Marines, did you?Ô ÓNo.Ô ÓThen you must have come to see me.Ô ÓRight.Ô ÓWhy?Ô ÓI was checking out a motive for your husbandÒs murder. A good nympho can get a lot of guys killed. I wanted to see how well you knew Rudy Bannerman.Ô ÓAnd I told you.Ô I put it to her bluntly. ÓThere was somebody else . . . not Sanders. You were seen with him several tunes.Ô ÓMr. Bannerman, there have been many others.Ô ÓThis one was there often. Late.Ô Irish Maloney wouldnÒt have made a dune playing poker. She frowned, thought a moment and said, ÓThere was Arthur Sears. I liked him.Ô ÓWhat was he like?Ô ÓGood looking, money, big fancy Buick, treated a woman real nice. He was in love with me.Ô She grinned and squirmed on the bed. ÓHe wanted me to leave Chuck and go away with him. He said heÒd do anything for me and he meant it too. I like that, men wanting to do all those things for me.Ô ÓWhy didnÒt you go?Ô ÓAnd have Chuck slap me silly? Besides, he didnÒt have that kind of money. When I go, I want to go first class. That takes the big kind. He knew what I meant.Ô I walked over and sat down, stretching out my legs. Irish tensed herself and spread out all across the bed, her eyes languid, watching every move I made. ÓWhy arenÒt you working tonight?Ô I asked her. ÓBecause I was waiting for you. Petey told me where you stayed. I told you I was coming to get you.Ô ÓMaybe IÒll toss you out on your can.Ô ÓYou wonÒt.Ô ÓWhy not?Ô ÓYou want me too, thatÒs why.Ô She reached her arms out. ÓCome, man.Ô I didnÒt want to, but it had been too long. I made all the mental excuses, then I got up and went over to her. She was big and voluptuous and ready and I was there. And ready too. And I found out why any man could get a crazy desire for someone like her, even if he was Rudy Bannerman.