“Let’s take a booth,” Carmody suggested.
“Sure.” Eddie picked up his beer and crossed to a row of dark-wood booths, moving with solid strides that were in sharp contrast to Carmody’s easy but powerful grace. Eddie was several inches shorter than his brother, but his shoulders were heavier. At twenty-eight he was in good shape, but he would have trouble with his weight in a few years. There was still the suggestion of the choir boy in his square pale face and in the shyly earnest expression around his eyes. Despite his bulk, there was a vulnerable look about him; he had never learned to camouflage his emotions. His hopes and hurts and disappointments were nakedly apparent, mirrored for everyone to see in his embarrassingly clear and honest eyes.
“What’s on your mind, Mike?” Eddie said, after a quick glance over his shoulder at the piano.
“Does your girl work here?”
“Yes, she’s a singer and plays her own accompaniments.” Eddie smiled. “She’s pretty good, I guess.”
He was very proud of her, Carmody saw. “Well, let’s get this over with,” he said, moving his glass aside, fixing Eddie with his hard eyes. “You got yourself into a mess on this Delaney business.”
“That’s your version of it, not mine.”
“Damn it, let me finish,” Carmody said. “Delaney’s in a position to embarrass the men who run the city. He’s threatening to talk unless they take the heat off. You’re the heat, Eddie. Do you understand?”
Eddie put his elbows on the table and leaned closer to Carmody. “You want me to say it wasn’t Delaney I saw standing over Ettonberg with a gun in his hand? Is that what you want?”
“I want to keep you out of trouble,” Carmody said.
“Thanks all to hell,” Eddie said shortly. “I don’t need your help.”
“Kid, be sensible. Why be a hero for a bum like Delaney?”
“If he’s such a bum, why are the big boys worried?”
“He can embarrass them; put it that way.”
“They embarrass real easy, don’t they?” Eddie said.
“Be a humorist,” Carmody said dryly. “But see if this strikes you as comical. Unless you testify sensibly, you won’t testify at all.”
Eddie stared at him for a few seconds, his big chest rising and falling rapidly. “I’ll get killed for doing my job,” he said at last. “Is that what you’re telling me?”
“I’m just a carrier pigeon, a Western Union boy,” Carmody said. “I’m delivering a message. But you wouldn’t be getting this treatment if it weren’t for me. They’d step on you like a bug if you weren’t my brother.”
“I owe you a lot,” Eddie said bitterly. “I get a reprieve because my brother works with the big boys.”
“Don’t talk like a fool.” They were both becoming angry and Carmody knew that would ruin everything. He lit a cigarette and drew a long breath. This always happened with him and Eddie; he could handle other men without his emotions interfering, but this kid brother of his always got under his skin. Eddie was too stubborn to see the truth, and that made Carmody furious. “Now look,” he said, keeping his temper in check. “You’re not just getting a reprieve. You’ll get ten thousand bucks to go with it, which is more dough than you can save in twenty years pulling police boxes. You get that for just saying, ‘I’m not sure’ when you look at Delaney in court.”
“I’ll tell the truth so to hell with you,” Eddie said, his big hands tightening into fists. He was bitterly angry but beneath that was a deeper feeling; his soft clear eyes were like those of a child who has been hurt by a trusted adult.
A chord sounded from the piano and he turned his head quickly.
The big baby, Carmody thought helplessly. He doesn’t understand how the world is run, he doesn’t know anything except the nonsense the old man pounded into him. Carmody wondered how he would handle this as he glanced past Eddie to the girl at the piano. She was older than Eddie, thirty or thirty-two maybe, a slender girl with brown hair and a small serious face. She began to sing a sentimental ballad in a voice that was low and pleasant, but not much else. Carmody wondered what her appeal was to Eddie. What would his brother want in a woman? Carmody didn’t know. They had stopped communicating on all but superficial levels long before he got to know Eddie’s needs and taste in women. This one didn’t seem to be the party type. She looked brave and thoughtful, but that might be part of the act. She wasn’t voluptuous or sexy, in fact she didn’t even look very strong; her arms were white and thin against her black evening gown, and he could see the deep shadowed hollow at the base of her throat. A demure clinging vine maybe. Would Eddie like that? Someone he could baby and protect? Carmody sipped his drink and shook his head. That would be a great union. Two babies hugging each other in the big windy world.
Something about her touched a faint responsive chord in his memory. There was a teasing familiarity in the way she sat at the piano, her back perfectly straight, thin shoulders squared and her small head raised as if watching for something on the horizon. Carmody ran her face and body through his mind as if it were a fingerprint card in a selector machine. He tried to match her up with friends and enemies, with places and crimes, but the effort produced no answer to the little query in his mind.
“She’s good,” he said to Eddie, making it warm and friendly. “What’s her name?”
“Karen Stephanson.”
That meant nothing to Carmody. “Is she a local product?”
“No, she was born in New York. But she’s worked all over the country, I guess.”
“How did you get to know her?”
“Well, this place used to be on my beat. I came by one night when it was raining and she was waiting for a cab. She lives near here, at the Empire Hotel. I called the district from the pull box and got one of the squads to drive her home.”
Carmody smiled. “Very neat!”
“Well, I stopped in to hear her sing a few times, and then asked her for a date. That’s all there was to it.”
“Is this a serious deal?”
“With me it is. I don’t know about her.”
Carmody patted his brother’s shoulder, still smiling. “Look, if any ninety-eight-pound female thinks she is too good for you just tell her about the Kings of Ireland. Hell man, we’re direct descendants.”
“Don’t forget the family castles and hunting lodges,” Eddie said, responding to the lighter mood. “There must be castles every square yard over there. I never met a Mick whose family didn’t own one or two at least.”
Smiling at him, Carmody thought, he’s serious, all right. And with Eddie that wouldn’t mean one-night stands. He’d want it all the way, with an apartment, babies, diapers on the radiators, the works. “You want to marry her?” he asked.
“I guess I would,” Eddie said, coloring slightly.
“Good, keep that in mind,” Carmody said. “Now without getting sore, let’s go back to Delaney.”
“We’ve settled that,” Eddie said shortly, his mood changing.
“Listen to me, Goddamnit. You won’t marry anybody unless you play ball. Get that through your thick head. You’ll be dead.” I’ve got to sell him this, Carmody thought, but for the first time he felt a tug of anxiety. Supposing he couldn’t? What then?
“Let’s drop it,” Eddie said angrily. Then his face softened, and his eyes became helpless and vulnerable. “I’m not judging you, Mike. Maybe you’re the smart one. And maybe I’m a dope, like you say. But I like it the way I am. Can’t you see that? I don’t like fighting you. It gives me a charge to see you, and to kid around about the Kings of Ireland. That’s fine, for some reason. But let’s drop this other thing.”
“If I do you get killed.”
Eddie smiled crookedly. “Well, I haven’t anything too big on my conscience.”
“Damn it, stop talking like the old man,” Carmody said, snapping out the words. “What about this girl? Will you do her any good lying on a morgue slab?”
“Leave the old man out of this,” Eddie said.
“Okay, forget him. But stop talking like a child.”
“I’m no child. I can handle myself.”
“Dear God,” Carmody said, raising his eyes to the ceiling. “Now you’re going to be a hero. Stand right up to a crowd that just about holds the whole state in its hands.”
“Maybe I’m not so alone as you think,” Eddie said. “Supposing I go to Superintendent Shortall with your deal. What about that?”
Carmody smiled gently. “Shortall’s no knight in armor. He works for the same boss as I do.”
“That’s not straight.”
“Wouldn’t I be likely to know?”
Eddie stared at him, swallowing hard. Then he said bitterly, “Yeah, you’d know about that, I guess. So Shortall is on the take too.” He suddenly pounded a fist on the table. “The big phony. Him and his speeches about our responsibility to the community, about being good citizens first and good cops second.”
“Fine, get mad,” Carmody said, nodding approvingly. “That’s a healthy reaction. It’s the first step toward getting smart. Now listen to me,” he said, fixing Eddie with his cold hard eyes. “I’ve been through all this. Do you think they’ll let you be a good cop? Sure, if you don’t bother them. You can be as efficient as you like on school crossings, but they’ll break you in two if you stick your nose into their business.”
Watching Eddie’s troubled face, Carmody realized that it was time to ease off, to let the seed he had planted grow. “What happened to our drinks?” he said. “Let’s have another round; okay?”
“Does that include me?”
It was the girl, Karen, who spoke. She was standing beside their booth, smiling pleasantly at Eddie.
“Good gosh, I didn’t even notice you’d stopped singing,” Eddie said, and started to get to his feet. But she put a hand lightly on his shoulder and said, “Never mind, I’ll slide in beside you.”
“This is my brother, Mike, Karen. Mike, this is Karen.”
They smiled at each other, and Carmody said, “What would you like to drink?”
“Scotch, please. On the rocks.”
Carmody gave the waiter their order, then looked at Karen. “We were just talking about you in connection with Kings of Ireland,” he said.
“Cut it out, Mike,” Eddie said, grinning uncomfortably.
“I don’t understand. Should I?” Karen said, smiling at Eddie.
“No, it was just a gag,” he said.
She’s a cool little cookie, Carmody thought, studying her with interest.
She realized that he was taking her measure but it didn’t disturb her; she sipped her drink slowly and gave him time to draw his conclusions. There were girls who would have resented his deliberate appraisal, but her manner remained poised and friendly. She was better-looking up close, he thought. Her eyes were very lovely, deeply blue and steady, and there was a hint of intelligence and humor in the turn of her soft, gently curving lips. She wore her brown hair parted in the middle and clipped behind with a small silver barrette. Against the dark wood of the booth her bare shoulders were white and square. She held herself very handsomely, chin raised, back straight and her hands resting in her lap.
They talked casually until Eddie glanced at his watch.
“I’m taking Karen out for a sandwich, Mike,” he said. “This is her only break before she gets through at two.”
“Perhaps Mike would like to come with us.” She spoke to Eddie but she was watching Carmody, taking his measure as he had taken hers.
“No, I’ve got to get back downtown,” he said, knowing Eddie didn’t want him along. Karen understood that, he saw. She finished her drink and put out her cigarette, changing the mood with these little gestures. “We’d better go then, I think,” she said.
Carmody paid the check. Karen excused herself to get a wrap and Eddie went off to make a phone call. Carmody stood alone, flipping a coin in one hand, and staring at his tall, wide-shouldered figure in the bar mirrow. He’d made a good start. Eddie had something to think about now, and when a man started thinking he was usually getting on the right track.
He turned, still flipping the coin, and saw Karen coming toward him with light quick steps. She carried a stole over one arm and he could hear the click of her high-heeled sandals above the murmur of laughter and conversation. And then he noticed that she was limping. It was a very small limp, just a slight favoring of her left leg, but the sight of it touched the responsive chord in his mind. Where had he seen her before? Then, when she stopped and smiled briefly at him, the cogs in his sharp brain meshed together smoothly. And he had the answer to his query.
It was in Miami, two seasons ago, when he’d been down with Beaumonte for an unscheduled winter vacation. He had seen her in the expensive lobby of an expensive hotel, making her way on crutches. That was why he had remembered her, because she had been on crutches. That had stuck in his mind.
Smiling down at her he said suddenly, “Where were you on the night of December 15th two years ago? Don’t huddle with your attorney. Let’s have it without rehearsal.”
“What do you mean?”
“Miami, wasn’t it?”
“That’s right.” She watched him gravely. “How did you know?”
“I was there. I remembered you.”
“Yes, I expect you would,” she said.
His mind was working smoothly and sharply. Could she help him with Eddie? She looked smart; maybe she could pound sense into his head. The chance was well worth taking.
“I want to talk to you,” he said. He smiled into her steady blue eyes and put his hands lightly over her bare shoulders. “I’ve got a proposition to make. Concerning Eddie, so don’t haul off and slug me yet. How about having a drink with me when he’s out safeguarding the ash cans in the neighborhood?”
“Let me go,” she said quietly; but her voice was tight with anger. “Take your hands off me.”
Carmody put his hands on his hips and studied her closely, bewildered by her reaction. “Take it easy,” he said gently. “You’re jumping to conclusions, I think.”
“The Miami phase is over and done with,” she said. “You’d better get that straight.”
He didn’t understand this. “I’m sorry you got the wrong idea,” he said.
She was pale and defiant, but he saw that her lower lip was trembling. “Don’t take it so hard,” he said, still puzzled. “What can I say after I say I’m sorry?”
“You don’t believe me, of course,” she said.
“Why shouldn’t I?”
“Stop grinning like an adolescent at a burlesque show,” she said angrily. “They whistled in my day,” Carmody said. “But that was quite a spell back. You know you’re awfully touchy. Does it worry your psychiatrist?”
“You’re very funny. I’ll bet you do imitations, too.”
“Don’t try to creep into my heart with flattery,” Carmody said, smiling at her. “I know you just want to borrow my badge to give to some police dog.”
She started to say something but Eddie came swinging down the room, grinning cheerfully, and she turned her back to Carmody and let Eddie take her arm.
“We’ve got to rush it up a little,” he said, patting her hand. “You two have a chance to get acquainted?”
“We sure did,” Carmody said, looking at Karen. He half expected her to tell Eddie about their little flare-up, but she avoided his eyes, said nothing. It would come later, he guessed. When she could flavor her version to Eddie’s taste.
Outside they said their good-bys and Eddie and Karen walked away together in the soft clean darkness. Carmody stared after them, frowning slightly and flipping the coin in his hand.
He would save Eddie all right. With or without help from this cool, poised little character. But probably with her help, he thought, smiling slightly.
She knew the score. She could count; all the way up to ten thousand.
He drove into the city on Broad Street and parked in a restricted zone on Fifteenth Street under the
eye of a friendly traffic cop. Beaumonte was waiting for him but first he would have to check in with Lieutenant Wilson. There was always the need to preserve the illusion that he was a responsible member of the department.
Carmody called from a drug store. Wilson, a sharp and businesslike cop, sounded annoyed when he got through to him. “I can’t run a shift without a sergeant, Mike,” he said. “Where’ve you been?”
“Something developed on that Fairmount Park murder,” Carmody said. “I’m meeting a character who wants to make a deal.”
“Another Carmody exclusive,” Wilson said dryly.
“Don’t be sensitive. You can give it to the papers,” Carmody said.
“I don’t give a damn about that,” Wilson said. “We’ve had two jobs tonight, a knifing in South with no leads and a murder in the Wagner Hotel. Everybody’s out but me and I’m holding down your desk.”
“I’ll stop at the Wagner and take a look,” Carmody said, checking his watch. The delay wouldn’t improve Beaumonte’s disposition, he knew. “Who’d you send on that one?”
“Dirksen and Myers.”
“I’ll take a look. And stop worrying.”
“Gee, thanks,” Wilson said. “It’s real friendly of you to pitch in this way.”
Carmody laughed and dropped the receiver back in place. He went out to his car and drove through center-city to the Wagner, a well-run commercial hotel near the railroad station. There he found Myers browbeating an hysterical little man in whose room the girl had been shot, and Dirksen talking baseball with a lab technician. The girl lay on the floor beside the rumpled bed, a heavily built blonde in her middle thirties. She wore only a slip and her make-up stood out like clown markings against the white emptiness of her face. Dirksen digressed reluctantly from the baseball to give him the story. The elevator operator had heard the shot and summoned the night manager, who had opened the room with his passkey. The girl was on the floor, a bullet hole under her heart, and the man, a furniture salesman from Michigan, was sprawled on the bed out cold.
“It was his gun fired the shot,” Dirksen said in conclusion. “It’s open and shut. He’s playing dumb but he’s our boy.”
Rogue Cop Page 3
