CHAPTER SEVEN I got up before she was awake, showered and left a note for her to get home and IÒd see her later, then I went out and phoned Petey Salvo. It hadnÒt taken the big guy long to pinpoint Gage and Matteau. They were both staying at the Orange House on Main Street and had spent the night before making the rounds of the clubs winding up at the Cherokee doing nothing more than having a few drinks and watching the action at the tables. About two oÒclock Gage had gotten pretty jumpy and Matteau had taken him out. Petey had the idea Gage was a hophead and had to go somewhere to mainline one and he didnÒt know how right he was. He was all for going down and nailing the pair in their hotel but I vetoed it and told him to hang on until I pulled the cork myself. At the restaurant I picked up the latest piece of news. Guy Sanders was on his way back to Culver City and the trial date had been set. Time was running out on the sucker. Hank Feathers was still in bed when I got there. Waking him up wasnÒt easy and he came out of the pad swearing up a storm. I even made the coffee and it wasnÒt until he had two of them down that he began to act normal. He was sore because he had to spend a couple of hours with Lieutenant Travers going over my history and couldnÒt find one thing to say except that he knew my old man, I was a Bannerman and that was it. I wasnÒt about to fill him in all the way and he knew it. He said, ÓYou sure raised hell downtown, son.Ô ÓItÒs about time somebody did.Ô ÓFine, fine, but they dragged me in. When a Bannerman yells around here everybody jumps. You put the needle into Travers about those two guys and heÒs got the lines burning all over the state. You know the pitch?Ô ÓSuppose you tell me.Ô ÓFor six years the Syndicate has been trying to move in here. They got a few places started but the state pushed them out. So now they got a toehold again. MatteauÒs filed as a resident and even though they know heÒs tied up with a bunch in Chicago they canÒt prove it or do a damn thing about it. HeÒs got power behind him and it moves all the way to the Capitol. Brother, this townÒs got trouble.Ô ÓSo stick around and get a good story. You still ready to step on toes?Ô ÓBannermansÒ?Ô ÓAnybodyÒs.Ô ÓIÒm a reporter, son. Somebody steps out of line, itÒs news and I get it printed. What have you got going?Ô ÓThrow a monkey wrench into the Sanders thing. Make it look like a trial of political expediency. Hit the D.A. and get the paper to press for a full investigation . . . anything to delay the trial. Give it enough coverage so they wonÒt be able to get a jury that hasnÒt read or heard about it. Can you do that?Ô ÓSure, but I may get canned and IÒm almost at retirement age.Ô ÓTake a chance.Ô ÓBoy, do I live dangerously.Ô ÓDonÒt we all,Ô I said.
Petey Salvo got me into the Cherokee Club before anyone was there and I headed for the kitchen. He dug around in the cutlery drawers a few minutes pulling out every form of knife they had there until he had a sample spread out on the butcherÒs block of every one. Most were of the common variety, there was one I picked up and scrutinized carefully before I put it in my inside pocket wrapped in a napkin. ÓWhatÒre you gonna do with that?Ô Petey asked me. ÓGive it to the police surgeon who examined ChuckÒs wound.Ô ÓThe guy said he got it with a stiletto.Ô ÓLook at the steak knives, friend. TheyÒre specialty numbers and might do it. Instead of tossing the murder weapon away, suppose a killer simply put it back in service. A check shows nothing gone, a weapon was available, and what happens?Ô ÓYou got me,Ô he said. ÓWhat?Ô - ÓA killer gets away with murder.Ô Because I was a Bannerman, Dr. Anthony Wember was willing to make the comparison. He was sceptical, but had to admit there was a possibility that the knife I offered might have inflicted the wound. He couldnÒt be certain because of the peculiar nature of the cutting and puncturing combination in MaloneyÒs chest, but it was a thought and he would consider it. He had gone to great lengths to establish the nature of the weapon and a stiletto type it was; pointed, sharp along one length at least, straight blade with a rising center. He seemed to think both edges had been ground, but again, it was speculation. The doctor said heÒd check it again to be sure and would make the information available. At least to a Bannerman. When we left it was time to do the other thing. Petey was all smiles when we got to the Orange House because he knew the ropes and how to work it and got a pimply faced kid in a bellboyÒs uniform to get the key we wanted. I knocked while he stayed out of the way and when Pop-eye Gage opened the door he wasnÒt a bit worried because he had a gun in his fist and said, ÓHey Carl, look who we got. The punkÒs back and asking for it.Ô Matteau looked up from his paper, put it down and stood up with a grin wreathing his face. ÓCouldnÒt take a lesson, could you, boy?Ô ÓI told you not to call me that.Ô I started toward him fast. ÓHold it,Ô Gage said. He walked up behind me and let me feel the muzzle of the rod. I maneuvered them just right so I had them with their backs to the door and they didnÒt hear Petey come in and never knew he was in the room until he slammed their heads together with an unearthly crack that put them unconscious on the floor for an hour. But it took us that long to shake the place down. We came up with three .38Òs, a half a case of booze and forty-two hundred bucks in cash, but that was all. Popeye Gage was the first one to open his eyes. He saw Petey leaning over him and tried to fake it, but the act didnÒt hold. Petey dragged him to his feet and held him up against his chest and you never saw fear in a guyÒs eyes before unless you saw his. I said, ÓPut him in the chair, Petey. We have something special for him.Ô ÓLet me give him something special, Cat.Ô ÓSave it for the other one. I know what will make this one talk.Ô Petey threw Popeye halfway across the room into an overstuffed chair and the punk cringed there shivering because he found something that didnÒt play out the way he thought it would and he was almost ready to hurt. Carl Matteau wasnÒt quite so easy. He had gone the route before too and decided to take it cursing and swearing all the way, but no matter what Petey did to him he wasnÒt about to spill his guts. I was figuring on that and let him go through the rough stuff until the blood ran down his chin and his eyes were rolling in their sockets and said, ÓWe want the knife, Carl. What do we do to get it?Ô ÓGo screw yourself.Ô I hit him myself this time. I laid one on him that sent him out of the seat to the wall and he sat there on the floor glowering at me. ÓYou hit the wrong one, buddy. YouÒre in a trap now.Ô He said two words. Petey gave him one then and he went out cold. Over in the corner Popeye Gage started to whimper. Petey said, ÓThey done it, right?Ô ÓThey didnÒt done it,Ô I told him. ÓThey were just part of it.Ô ÓIÒll kill Ñem if you want, Cat. We can dump...Ô ÓNo killing, Petey. DonÒt involve yourself.Ô ÓChuck was my friend.Ô ÓSo weÒll stick them. Only donÒt letÒs take a fall, oke?Ô ÓYouÒre calling it, Cat.Ô I went over to Gage and stood there looking at him for a minute. I said to Petey, ÓYou know a place where we can put this one? Some place where he canÒt be heard and nobody can hear him scream?Ô ÓThereÒs the smokehouse behind your place, remember?Ô Remember? Damn right I remembered. I had taken enough beatings from Miles there often enough when Rudy and Teddy had made me take lumps. ÓThat should do it.Ô Popeye knew what I was getting at. He could see a couple of days going by without pumping a few shots of the big H into his veins and knew what would happen. His mouth worked until the words came out. ÓLook, I donÒt know nothing. I donÒt . . .Ô ÓItÒs only what the others donÒt know, little man. ThatÒs what counts. TheyÒll all think Carl clued you in, so sweat. Sweat hard,Ô I said. We left Carl Matteau like that and drove six miles back to the Bannerman place and locked Popeye in the smokehouse. He went quietly because Petey laid a short one on his jaw and left him on a pile of sawdust. When he woke up heÒd be screaming for a shot and would be ready to say anything if weÒd get him a fix. I had Petey wait in the car and took the back door route to the house again. Annie had a ready smile, her hands and clothes white with flour. She told me Rudy had come home sick yesterday and was still in bed. Cousin Teddy left town on some mission and Uncle Miles was in the library with Vance Colby. Rather than push on in, I stood there, listening to the heated voice coming from inside. The oak doors were too thick to transmit the words but it was Vance Colby that was doing the demanding and Uncle Miles aquiescing littl
e by little. When their discussion came to an end I pulled back, let Vance Colby through without him seeing me, and after he was out and in his car I went inside to where Miles was hunched up behind his desk, his face looking like he had just been whipped. ÓHello, Uncle.Ô ÓI donÒt think you and I have anything to discuss.Ô ÓNo?Ô It wasnÒt what I said. It was the way I said it. His mouth started to hang open and I saw his hands shake. ÓWhat... do you mean?Ô We did have something to discuss, all right, but I didnÒt know what it was. As long as he thought I did he was on the hook, not me. ÓI got the picture pretty well laid out,Ô I told him, a grin on my face. Miles looked like he was going to die right there. HeÒd make a lousy poker player too. HeÒd said enough with his face to show me not to push any further so I let out a chuckle and walked out of the room. Anita was just coming down the stairs, saw me and hurried, both hands reaching for mine. Her voice was soft as she said, ÓCat, Cat caught the rat.Ô When we were kids and she said that I used to chase her until I caught her and held her down squealing and kicking making like I was going to feed her a worm. It had been a great game. ÓHi, beautiful. Busy today?Ô ÓWell, Vance . . .Ô ÓHe just left.Ô A frown creased her forehead. ÓThatÒs funny. He didnÒt call me.Ô ÓBig business.Ô I walked toward the kitchen with her, my arm circling her waist. She fitted up against me unconsciously, her thigh rubbing mine. ÓHeÒs been like that for a month now. HeÒs . . . changed.Ô ÓFeel like doing a little touring with me?Ô ÓWhere, Cat?Ô ÓJust around. I have some stops to make.Ô ÓOkay,Ô she smiled happily, Ólet me get my jacket.Ô On the way to town I checked in the office of the motel to see if I had any calls. There were two, one from Sam Reed in Chicago and the other from Hank Feathers. I put the one through to Chicago first and got Sam at his place just as he was about to leave. I ÓCat,Ô he said, ÓI got a little more on Matteau. Guy I know pretty well used to work with him and when I got around to asking about him he let loose some odds and ends.Ô ÓLetÒs have them.Ô ÓThe Syndicate didnÒt just move in down there. They were approached by somebody with a deal. They never would have touched the area after all the trouble they had the last time, but this deal looked solid and they went for it. Seems legit and Matteau is going to head it up. If it swings the Syndicate will get in good, but itÒs got to be legit. They can handle things once theyÒre established. Now, that do you any good?Ô ÓIt makes sense, Sam. Thanks for calling.Ô ÓNo trouble. Like I said, IÒll be wanting a favor some day.Ô ÓYouÒll get it.Ô I held down the cutoff bar, let it up and gave the operator the out of town number for Hank Feathers. He was in a hotel a hundred miles away on an assignment they threw at him the last minute and had tried to locate me earlier and couldnÒt. I said, ÓWhatÒs up, doc?Ô ÓSomething youÒll have to run down personally. The printer at the paper . . . the one who lives near Irish Maloney . . . well, his wife forgot to tell me something. One of her constant visitors backed into a parked car one night and never left a calling card. Minor damage, but she just happened to be coming home, saw the accident and took his license number and stuck it under the windshield wiper of the car he bumped.Ô ÓA neighborhood car?Ô ÓCanÒt say. She didnÒt keep a record. She was just indignant about him running off.Ô ÓWhen did it happen?Ô ÓA couple of weeks ago.Ô ÓGood deal. IÒll see what I can do.Ô ÓOne more thing . . . will you get over and see old man Wilkenson? HeÒs bugging me on the hour. Get him off my back. So heÒll yak for a couple hours about the old days, but then itÒs over.Ô ÓYeah, sure. See you when you get back.Ô ÓTwo, three days. No more.Ô Anita looked at me curiously when I got back in the car. ÓAre we going someplace?Ô I nodded. ÓMaking house calls. YouÒre going to see an insurance investigator at work. At least I hope everybody thinks so.Ô ÓWhy?Ô ÓBecause all this trouble the Bannermans are in has an answer and itÒs not the one you think it is.Ô ÓI thought you didnÒt care about them.Ô ÓI donÒt baby, not one damn bit. Only you. If it touches you then IÒm involved too. As long as youÒre wearing the Bannerman name itÒs going to stay clean one way or another. I told you . . . thereÒs not one thing I want from them. I was out a long tune ago. IÒm the bastard Bannerman, I never had anything and never wanted anything. In a way IÒm lucky. What I never had I donÒt miss. I can work things out for myself and although I donÒt eat high off the hog I manage to keep my stomach full. IÒm free and clear because I donÒt own enough to get into debt over. DonÒt think there werenÒt times when I envied Rudy and Teddy all they had. I used to hate their guts because they had it all and took what little I had away too. But itÒs over now and thatÒs it. For you IÒm pushing, no other reason.Ô ÓI love you, Cat. I shouldnÒt say it, but I do. I always have.Ô ÓI know, kitten.Ô ÓCat . . . thereÒs nothing I can do. ItÒs . . . itÒs too late.Ô ÓIs it?Ô My voice felt tight and funny. I let the clutch in and pulled away. We took the area a block at a time and rang doorbells, going back to the empty places until we caught someone home. We didnÒt have a bit of luck tracing the car until six thirty when I had about four houses to go. A woman came by with an arm load of groceries, saw me getting into the car and stopped me. I had used a fake name all along and almost didnÒt hear her when she said, ÓOh . . . Mr. Wells . . .Ô Anita pointed past me. ÓSheÒs calling you, Cat.Ô ÓYes?Ô I remembered her from one of the first calls. ÓI was mentioning your visit to my husband when he came home. Well, it wasnÒt our car, but a friend of his who was staying overnight. He found his car damaged in the morning with the manÒs license number on his windshield.Ô ÓThatÒs just fine, maÒm. WeÒd like to settle the matter as soon as possible, so if you can give me his name IÒll get right to him.Ô ÓCertainly.Ô She shifted her packages. ÓJack Jenner . . . and he lives on Third Avenue North. HeÒs in the book.Ô ÓThank you. This has been a great help.Ô At the first pay station I stopped, looked up Jenner in the phone book and dialed his number. He seemed surprised to hear from me because so far he hadnÒt done anything about the incident. He read the license number out to me, I told him to process it as quickly as he could, thanked him and hung up. One crack in the wall. ThatÒs all you need. ThereÒs always a chink somewhere that is the weakest point and can bring the whole structure down in ruins. Anita said, ÓHave you found it?Ô ÓAlmost. ThereÒs a shadow figure in the picture and when the light hits weÒll know for sure. LetÒs go back to my motel. I want to clean up and we can eat.Ô ÓI was supposed to see Vance. HeÒll . . .Ô ÓHe can wait. A kissinÒ cousin has some rights, hasnÒt he?Ô ÓUh-huh,Ô she laughed, Óbut heÒll be mad.Ô ÓWhat he needs is another poke in the mouth.Ô ÓHeÒll never forgive you for what you did to him.Ô ÓTough. He was asking for it.Ô She nodded, not looking at me. ÓHeÒs . . . always been like that. He had to fight his way up, you know . . . supported himself at school, started small in business and made everything the difficult way.Ô ÓWhatÒs new about that, kid? Someday IÒll tell you my story.Ô I swung in at the motel and killed the engine. I opened the door, got one foot out when I saw the other car that was already nosed out start to move. The lights were off and if the top hadnÒt crossed the lights of the office I would have missed it. I yelled, ÓDown!Ô and gave Anita a shove that sent her on her back on the ground through the door on her side. The blast of the gun came on top of the winking yellow light from the muzzle and a bullet smashed into the dashboard over my head sending glass fragments all over the place. I pulled the .45, thumbed the hammer back and let two go toward the car that was swerving in the gravel and heading back to town. From the angle I had to shoot I knew damn well that I had missed him, but they werenÒt sticking around for a shoot out. There could always be a second time. I got Anita to her feet and inside as people came pouring out of their rooms. The clerk was shaking like a leaf, knocking on my door trying to find out what happened. I told him everything was all right ... it was an attempted stickup that didnÒt come off and nobody got hurt. But I was wrong. He had called the police the minute he heard the shots and Lieutenant Travers himself answered the call. He came in with a uniformed sergeant, closed the door and stood there with his hands behind his back. ÓMr. Bannerman ... I assume you have a reasonable explanation for the shooting.
Ô I told him the stickup story and he didnÒt go for it. His smile was pretty grim. ÓYou know,Ô he said, ÓIÒve had about enough of the Bannerman crap. They think they can get away with anything in this town and most of the times they can. IÒve been read off too often by my superiors who were under pressure and took too much lip from cheap politicians too many times. I think this time IÒll nail me a Bannerman.Ô His smile got colder with each word. ÓWe had a complaint that you carry a gun. This so?Ô There was no sense denying it. I nodded toward the chair where it lay under my coat. Travers said, ÓGet it, Fred.Ô I knew what was coming next and started to get dressed. When I finished he said, ÓLetÒs go. All the talking you can do at headquarters with witnesses and someone to take your statement.Ô He looked at Anita. ÓYou too, miss.Ô
Mickey Spillane - The Tough Guys Page 7
