The Tough Guys

by Mickey Spillane

  “Certainly, Mr. Porter,” I said. “Has Dan filled you in on the details?”

  “He has. Now we’ll see what you have to say, Mr. Rocca.”

  We met Dan Litvak in Rooney’s. He was alone in a booth, the ash tray littered with souvenirs of his wait. His face was carefully expressionless, but I knew what he was thinking. When Cal Porter sat down opposite him, he said, “You didn’t play it wisely, Cal.”

  “So I learned. Maybe I can still smarten up.”

  Dan glanced up, thought about it, and smiled slowly. He reached in his pocket and took out a folded sheaf of papers covered with his own type of shorthand. “Between Cal and me, we have that information on Elena Harris.”

  I tried to keep the quaver out of my voice when I told him to spill it.

  “Elena Harris booked passage for Rio two weeks after Rhino died.”

  “Supposedly died,” I cut in.

  He nodded. “Supposedly. She has been in Rio since and has been the constant companion of an unidentified gentleman known only as Richard Castor. This man joined her about the time she arrived and until a few months ago… well, you know how it gets.”

  “Yeah… sure.”

  “So Castor dropped out of sight. Meantime the Harris woman has been cutting a wide swath through local Latin society. She’s a blonde and they go for blondes there, especially the ones with class.”

  “And Castor…”

  “At this point, is missing,” Dan said.

  “No history at all?”

  Dan shrugged. “All this came over the phone, but he had a beard, was distinguished, and had plenty of loot. The only trouble he got into was when he had a brawl with a couple of women. He beat both of them up pretty badly.”

  “Rhino,” I said quietly. “It’s him.”

  Cal Porter tapped the table with his fingers. “We caught the business with the women too.” His fingers stopped the tapping and he looked at me. “Are you ready to talk?”

  “In a minute. What’s with Mannie Waller?”

  “We can’t locate him… yet. Several of his men are under surveillance and all his known hangouts are covered.” He paused, coughed into his hand, and said, “He’s pretty big now.”

  “How big?”

  “Outsized. We didn’t realize to what extent until we went to town on him. Mannie Waller, for all his crassness, is probably the Syndicate’s Mr. Big. Since Appalachin they’ve played it plenty cute.”

  “And he disappeared right after I opened Rhino’s grave.”

  “Apparently.”

  “The call got through then.”

  “That’s right. Now supposing, since we’re all in this nice informal atmosphere, you say what’s on your mind. If I didn’t feel like you had a possibility of being right, and on top of that, that it could have been me who sent you away for seven years on a bum rap, you wouldn’t be getting this opportunity to make me look like a fool. And if Dan didn’t go along with you, I don’t think I would have either. But now you’re getting your chance. Just lay it out so we can see what it is.”

  I sat back, put the pieces together the way it looked best and gave them the picture.

  “Before I was sent up I made a project out of Rhino Massley, intending to get hold of the documented evidence that determined his position inside the organization he ran and the outside loot to go with it. You know what happened. I took too big a bite. Rhino managed a neatly setup frame and I took a dive behind bars. And with me gone Rhino was riding high… nobody big enough to push or cut him out. He had it made, but then came a time when he wanted out of the organization and things like this just don’t happen unless you kick off.

  “Buddy Rhino met Elena Harris and fell like a ton of bricks. She had show-girl looks, was educated, had everything Rhino ever wanted, and he went off the deep end. She had one other thing, too. She was a nurse, and this could have given him the idea. He cooked up a way to get out of the mob, without a sword hanging over his neck, and open up a new life for himself.

  “So he fakes this polio thing. He went through the whole iron lung act because who the hell would think anybody would fake that? Suicide or murder maybe, but never anything like that. He even waited until a storm cut the power on the lung to make it look real. His nurse couldn’t get the auxiliary power started in time.

  “The doctor was fixed, of course. So was the mortician. They both thought they were made for life for their part in it and in a way they were. Rhino bumped them himself and made it look like an accident. He even managed to hold still in a casket for some photos and made it look good.

  “He was the Syndicate paymaster and he had a bundle. He was supposed to keep it well hidden, so when he died suddenly and the bank was never uncovered, the mob simply felt that he had done his job a little too well, discounted the loss, and started fresh. At that point Rhino and Elena took off for Rio, he under an assumed name and properly disguised.”

  I paused there and waited. Dan was doodling idly on the edge of paper. Cal Porter said, “It’s making sense. Go on.”

  “Now I speculate. Rio was a little too rich. Elena got out of hand. Those millionaires down there have an income at least. All of Rhino’s loot was going out. It wouldn’t take too many bad turns of the card to have that happen. Finally Rhino was wiped out and Elena wasn’t holding still for it. She dumped Rhino for somebody else and the big act was all for nothing.”

  I could feel the scowl on Porter’s face as he reached for the events and tried to sift them.

  I said, “But to get back… Rhino’s original hold on the mob itself and its outside agencies was his ‘black bundle,’ the stuff that could crucify plenty of big ones in and out of government. If it were a buried secret like the mob presumed the money to be, everything was all right.

  “After all, during the time Rhino was gone it never turned up and it could be counted as being out of existence. In a way, it was almost like that. He had that hidden well… it had gone with his ex-wife so completely nobody could ran it down. Then one day the ex-wife died and it came out quite inadvertently who she was and the mob was onto a new lead. There was the possibility that Rhino had separated the money and his ‘package,’ leaving the latter where it was accessible yet hidden.

  “The mob couldn’t afford not to follow up this idea. They suspected that Rhino’s black bundle could have been among her effects. The survivor was Rhino’s daughter, Terry, and as such inherited. The mob watched and waited and when Terry suddenly came to New York, they thought they had it pinned down.… Terry Massley had Rhino’s stuff and was coming in to make a sale. Like father, like daughter, they figured. They laid for her, most likely figuring to make her talk, or if she wouldn’t, knock her off and conduct a search themselves. By coincidence, I got involved.”

  The D.A.’s face seemed frozen. “By sheer coincidence,” he repeated.

  “Drop dead,” I said.

  “This coincidence is pretty far fetched,” Porter remarked sourly. “This black bundle of Massley’s was the invisible factor in Rocca’s trial. Now suddenly by coincidence the girl runs into him.”

  Dan laughed. “You know what you should call this coincidence, Cal?”

  Reluctantly, Porter asked, “What?”

  “Luck. It’s going to make you governor.”

  Then it was my turn. “That is,” I said, “if I don’t squawk about that bum rap I took back there.”

  The knuckles of Porter’s fingers showed white. “I’m not making any deals. All I want to do is play it right.”

  “Me too, Mr. Porter, me too. I want it right. It’s just that I have something coming to me for those seven years and I intend to get it.”

  “We’ll talk about it. What do you want?”

  “Legwork. You have everything going for you, so you might be able to get L.A. to process Rhino’s ex-wife’s effects. She left something behind that hasn’t been uncovered and we have to find it first.”

  Porter scribbled something on a pad and nodded. I waved for the waiter, told him to
bring a phone, and dialed the Enfield Hotel. After a minute the operator informed me that Terry wasn’t in her room. I hung up scowling and Dan wanted to know what the matter was. “Terry’s not around. She wasn’t there when I called from Phoenix.”

  “You know how dames are.”

  “I told her to stay put.”

  “For two days? You’re nuts. She’s around the hotel some place. Have her paged.”

  “No,” I said, “I’m going up there myself. I don’t want to broadcast anything.” I looked at Cal Porter. “Okay with you… or did Phoenix put a hold order on me?”

  For the first time Cal let a smile show. “They would have liked to. In fact, over somebody’s protestations out there, they suggested it. You stirred up a big one.”

  “You’ll do the stirring if you can get somebody to really shake down the late Mrs. Massley’s effects out there.”

  Dan flipped another cigarette into his mouth. “And what do I do, boss man?” he grinned.

  “More legwork. See if you can get anybody to identify Richard Castor as having shipped out of Rio bound for the States. I doubt if he would have travelled first class.”

  Both of them were watching me closely now.

  I said, “I think Rhino Massley slipped back here intending to pick up his old documents in order to finance another bankroll to buy Elena Harris back with. I think it was Massley who contacted Terry, knowing that somewhere in her mother’s effects was his big hope.”

  Porter nodded curtly. “There’s only one hole.”

  We both waited for it.

  “Rhino’s got a crazy fixation against women. Then suddenly he’s all gone over this Harris girl?”

  It was something that had bothered me too, but I dismissed it with the only thing I could think of. “There’s an exception to every rule, Mr. Porter. Meanwhile, it’s the only line of reasoning we have.”

  I let them think about it, told them I’d call back later and walked out.

  The maid was a short, doughty old woman, and she was certain about it. She didn’t quibble or hedge and the fin I had given her hadn’t bought a story. The girl in my room who had registered in as my wife wasn’t there and hadn’t been all day. Previously she wouldn’t let anyone in, even to make up the room. Twice the day before, room service had brought in a tray, but that was all. However, this morning when the maid had tried the door with her master key since there was no Do Not Disturb sign out and the door was not locked from inside, she went in, cleaned up, and went out.

  Then, for some oblique reason of her own, she asked, “Your wife, was it?” and when I nodded curtly she made a universal grimace, the superior smile of those who know. She thought, too, she knew why the fin and why my questions and said quickly, “She gave quite a party, mister, I’ll say that. There were cigar butts around and the room was all pulled apart.”

  I said thanks and let it drop there. I couldn’t have said more because my throat was tight with a cold fear. I went back inside and opened the drawers of the dresser. Her things were there, carelessly thrown around, showing all the signs of having been hurriedly searched. Deliberately, I checked every spot in the room, but the things I was looking for, her mother’s personal effects, weren’t there.

  Terry was gone. Why? There had been men here. Why? Yet, I knew some of these things. Like the men. It’s surprising how great a force the unlawful comprise. They had men to do the legwork, money to buy pieces of knowledge, experience to follow up the slightest detail. And they had a motive. Mannie Waller’s men had been here, all right. I let the picture of it run through my mind, then it stopped being quite so grim. They were here and left, but not with Terry, otherwise there would have been no cigar butts or careless searches.

  I picked up the phone, settled the whole thing on my lap, and lifted the receiver. And even as I was giving the desk clerk Dan Litvak’s number I saw the note. She had stuck it under the phone base itself and all that time it had stayed there, hidden until now. Very simply it read:

  Darling, I was contacted at the Sherman and the arrangement is almost the same as before. This time I was to carry mother’s personal items in the identifying suitcase, but rather than that I’m leaving them in your hole in the wall. Don’t worry. I’ll be all right. Love you.

  Terry.

  The idiot! What the hell gets into women that they think they can walk head-on into men playing guns and walk right out again! My hands shook so that I could hardly hold the phone and when Dan finally came on the same shake was back in my voice.

  I said, “Terry’s gone. Rhino made his contact.”

  “You sure it was Rhino?”

  “That’s what I’m calling for. You have anything on Castor?”

  “Not yet. Now what about Terry?”

  I gave him the picture quickly as far as I saw it. “Suppose I pass this on to Cal. He’ll want to go all out on it.”

  “Go to it. I’ll see if I can find Terry.”

  “How?”

  “She said the arrangements were almost the same as before. Rhino is some place in my neighborhood and she’s to meet him there. There’s nobody I don’t know around home plate and, if Terry has been there, somebody would have spotted her. If she goes through with this contact and comes out of it, she’ll try to reach me either here or at my pad on the street. Give me two hours and we’ll all meet at my place. Got that?”

  “Yeah, but how about you taking some help along.”

  “No dice, kid. A team would be spotted too fast. Me those people will talk to. Anybody else, nix. And if they think I’m working with cops they’ll clam up on me, too. We have to play it like this.”

  “Okay then. If that’s how you call it. See you later. Watch it.”

  I said I would and hung up.

  Once it began, night came on with a desperate rush. Over the city the belly-rumbling of the storm to the west closed the shops early.

  I had walked the street from Seventh to the river, then back again, questioning those who would know if anyone would, asking them, in turn, to question others. Yes, Terry had been seen, all right, by two persons next to my own building. She came to my place, stayed a few minutes, and left. Where she went to, or where she was now, nobody could tell me.

  There wasn’t any sense going to my apartment now. All she did was leave those meaningless things of her mother’s in my trick closet, the hole in the wall she first hid in. How long ago? Years… months? It hardly seemed like days.

  So I kept on asking, people in doorways, the paperman on the corner, the kids, the hack drivers waiting just off the avenues. They were nice, they were sympathetic, but they couldn’t help.

  And when the rain started I turned up my collar and gave up. Inside me I had that terrible disjointed feeling that comes with a hangover and your nervous signals get all crossed until you’re ready to scream with despair. I walked back to my apartment, went in, closed the door and reached to switch on the light.

  I needn’t have bothered. Somebody else did it for me.

  Mannie Waller, fat and ugly looking, squatting on the couch, said, “We only had to wait, wise guy. Sooner or later you’d come back to your hole in the wall, all right.” The three with him just smiled. Big smiles.

  He glanced around, his nose wrinkled in disgust. I followed his eyes, looking at the wreckage of the place, the broken chairs, the upturned drawers, the litter from the pillow and mattress. I couldn’t help grinning, though. It was a lousy joke, but still a joke. Mannie was thinking about the wrong hole in the wall.

  What a sucker I turned out to be. Sure, Mannie had seen Terry’s note. He had even left it there for me to see too, and if I had, I would have come roaring over like a white knight and been roasted in my own armor. The cleaning woman in the hotel had probably covered up Terry’s note inadvertently, and I had assumed that only I saw it.

  “It’s funny?” Mannie asked. “Show him it ain’t funny, Ruby.”

  I tried to cover up but I wasn’t quick enough. A gun barrel raked the back of my scalp a
nd I went down on my knees with the sticky warmth of blood soaking into my collar.

  “Where is it, wise guy?”

  “Like…what…”

  Mannie nodded sagely. “I spell it out just once. What the kid has. The stuff. Rhino’s stuff. She left it here.”

  My breath was coming in hard. The guy called Ruby nudged me with a toe and said, “Another one, Mannie?”

  I shook my head. “Wait. I’ll… tell you.”

  “Give him a minute, Ruby.”

  How long? How long did I have? I managed to get a foot under me and poised there breathing deeply, in a runner’s stance. The blood from my head ran down and dripped off my chin making it look better still. Then when I had milked it as long as I could I came off the floor with a wild shriek stinging my own ears.

  My fist caught Mannie flush in the face and I felt bone and teeth go into a splintery mess. The one beside him reached for me as I turned and I almost put my foot through his genitals. Someone swung a gun again and missed, smashing it into my shoulder. My entire side went numb, my knees collapsed, and even on the way down the fists and the feet started their torture. I rolled on one side, gagging on the blood in my mouth, the sudden retching clearing my head, and for one second I cursed myself for a damn fool because all that time I had Lafarge’s gun stuck under my belt and never thought to use it.

  But thinking of it then was enough. The one hand under me snaked it out of its own volition and when I rolled over my face was exposed and the one called Ruby laughed and brought his foot back to kick it off.

  Then I pulled the trigger and it was Ruby’s face that disappeared and the last thing I saw was his hat flying toward the ceiling as his head exploded. A foot shocked me almost senseless and my eyes closed.

  Mannie’s voice was far away, a horrible mumbling, swearing at the other two. Dimly, I heard one say, “How the hell could we know?”

  “You jerks,” Mannie sobbed. “I should kill you. Look at Ruby.”

  “Who figures him for rods, Mannie. Hell, Mannie…”

  “Shut up. You take care of him. Right now, you hear? Then we blow. You get yours later, you jerks!”