by Jack Lynch
Ma Leary was standing over Harmony and the girl with the busted mouth. The front of the girl’s face was smeared with blood. She gurgled something about her teeth.
Lou and Kenny hadn’t left yet. Then Ma did a foolish thing. With her hands still cuffed behind her back, she crossed to Kenny and spit in his face.
Kenny didn’t like that. The initial shock left him motionless for a moment. His mouth hung open and he raised one hand to wipe at the spittle.
“Forget it, Soft Kenny,” Lou urged him. “It’s time to get out of here.”
“No,” said the younger man quietly. “Not after that.” He pocketed his pistol and took out a package of cigarettes. His hands trembled as he removed a filter tip and lit it. Then he shoved Ma back against the front of the stage. He hooked his hands into the front of her black blouse and ripped down with such force it brought Ma to her knees. Kenny grabbed her by the throat and lifted her again. The wrench had torn open her blouse and broken her bra, exposing Ma’s chest.
I figured I knew what Soft Kenny had in mind, and I slid off the stool like the last of the quiet Shoshones, crossing the room in a half crouch and reaching into my jacket to bring out my big, heavy, outdated, damn comforting .45 automatic. Kenny grabbed one of Ma’s breasts with one hand and brought up his cigarette with the other.
I was closer to Lou than I was to Kenny. I came up beside the shorter man and stuck the muzzle of my pistol into his ear.
“Tell Kenny to let go of her. And drop your gun.”
Lou’s gun clattered to the floor, and Soft Kenny turned to blink dumbly at me.
“Drop the cigarette,” I told him. “You’re too young to smoke.”
He dropped the cigarette. I moved around behind him and took his gun from his coat pocket. “Now scram. Both of you. You’ve done enough.”
Kenny was getting his nerve back. Which meant he didn’t have any more brains than Ma showed when she’d spit in his face.
He said, “Listen, dumbo…” while I was shifting my pistol to my left hand. I punched him hard on the Adam’s apple before he could say anything more. It made a crunching noise. He pitched backward onto the floor, holding his throat and gagging.
“Get him out of here,” I told Lou. “Your friend is crazy, you must know that. Making threats to him would be a waste of time. So beware. If you or any of your friends try to come back here tonight, you are the one I’m going to kill first.”
Lou studied me a long moment, the way you do a face you want to remember. But he didn’t say anything. He helped Kenny to his feet and out toward the front. I followed along behind, and peered outside from a crouched position. Nobody was around so I slipped outside into the darkness. Somebody had broken the neon sign. Several cars were headed out toward the road. Only one car remained, about twenty yards away. Lou was helping Kenny into the back seat. The driver was asking questions. Lou snarled something and climbed in back with Kenny. The car followed the others. I waited to see which way the caravan went when it got to the road. It turned toward town. I rose and put away my gun, then went back into what was left of the damndest truck stop ever.
NINE
The casino boss with the green eyeshade was working on Ma Leary’s handcuffs with a pair of bolt cutters. A couple of girls were getting ready to take the girl Soft Kenny had punched to the hospital. Ma ordered the others to go and get a good night’s sleep. They’d have a big cleanup job to do the next day. Harmony told me she was scared aplenty and wouldn’t mind somebody walking her home. I told her I had more business to talk over with Ma.
The fellow with the bolt cutters finished his job and left with the others. Ma locked up with a remark about the horses already being down the road and into the next pasture, then I followed her up to her rooftop quarters.
Some drawers had been pulled out and their contents strewn around, but other than that the damage was minimal there. They hadn’t even gone through the other rooms, which I saw now were a bedroom, bath and small kitchen. Ma went into the bedroom to change, and then into the kitchen to fix us both drinks. She gave me mine then went back to her desk. I lifted my glass in salute and took a sip.
“Those boys come through town often?”
“First time anything like that’s ever happened.”
“Seen any of them before?”
“Not a one of them. And I want to thank you for what you did down there, Bragg. I guess I was a little rash, spitting on that little animal the way I did.”
“Wish I could have done more sooner. You should have a little protection around here.”
“I will have, starting tomorrow. Anyhow, Bragg, whatever I have is on the house for as long as you’re in town. Food, drinks or a place to stay. And there are several frightened young girls who’d be more than happy to give you anything else you might want.”
“Thanks. Aren’t you going to phone the law?”
Ma snorted. “Merle Coffey would tell me to go piss in the river. No, I’ll find my own dudes to handle this.”
“What’s behind it? Those boys didn’t look like the anti-saloon league.”
“No, they didn’t,” she said flatly.
“You don’t want to talk about it?”
“You’re a bright man. No, I don’t. Before they arrived I called Armando. He said I should cooperate with you. But whatever troubles he might be having aren’t related to mine.”
“How can you be sure? If Armando still has a piece of the place, and people come in busting up things, they bust up his share as well as your own.”
“It doesn’t work that way. Armando and I handle this just like a cash loan. It doesn’t matter whether I have the cash invested here or in a thousand acres of desert outside of town. I just owe him X number of dollars and pay it off a bit at a time. Those dollars just happen to be invested in the Truck Stop here. Any troubles that come my way are mine alone.”
“Okay, Ma, we’ll let it go for now. But I still want to know about the troubles between Armando and this Burt Slide. What kind of troubles were they?”
“Girl troubles. Her name was Theresa. I don’t know too much about it. My relationship with Armando was strictly business. But he and Burt both chased after her. Then she left here for a spell. Got married to some soldier boy who then got himself killed in Vietnam. Theresa came back to town with the soldier boy’s baby. That’s the little girl Armando adopted and is looked after now in Frisco. But before he married Theresa and adopted the kid, he and Burt carried on just like old times again. It was all kind of sad and mixed up, because it turned out that Theresa had a cancer. Eighteen months later she was dead. That kind of took the passion out of any hard feelings anyone might have had.”
She leaned back in her chair. “You know, Bragg, Armando told me he thought his troubles came from San Francisco. Why are you poking into things down here?”
“Because I don’t agree with him. What was the last name of the dead woman, Beverly Jean’s mother?”
“Morley? Moore? Something like that.”
“Did she have any family here?”
“I don’t know.”
The evening was turning into a waste of time. I thanked Ma for the drink and got up to go.
“Where you off too?”
“Anywhere I think I might get the answers to some more questions.”
“I wish you wouldn’t,” Ma told me. “You’re just apt to stir up more trouble than’s already going down.”
“That sounds as if you don’t want me doing my job.”
“It’s not that. But your timing is all wrong. You’re apt to find trouble for the wrong reason.”
“Then I’ll just have to handle that along with whatever trouble I find for the right reason.”
I drove back into town and passed four police cars parked alongside the road. I wondered what sort of crime they were keeping such a sharp eye out for. I was so curious about that, I drove around until I found the city hall and police department. It was a block off the main drag, a two-story brick building with a
tall cupola. The asphalt parking lot alongside was a busy place. A couple dozen men in brown uniforms and blue helmets with plastic face shields were milling around swinging long batons. I didn’t know cops felt they needed riot gear in towns the size of Sand Valley. I drove back over to Nevada Street and down to the Sky Lodge. I left my car with an attendant and went in to register for a room. The lobby seemed small for such a large building. Off to one side were three elevators and a stairway. Off to the other were some doors with black leather padding.
The fellow at the sign-in desk was tall, balding and a little effeminate. He pursed his lips and seemed to take offense that I hadn’t made a reservation for such a late arrival.
“What’s wrong?” I asked. “You all booked up?”
“No, sir, it’s not that. It’s just that we want to provide our guests with the every convenience, and that takes planning.”
“I’m not all that hard to please. A room with a bed and a shower will do it for me.”
“Did you want a water bed?”
“No, I’m figuring to go to sleep, not to sea.”
“Mirrors?”
“How do you mean, partner?”
“I mean some of our clients like a reflection wall, or ceiling paneled with glass.”
“I see. No, I’m not after that sort of activity at this particular time.”
“Then I don’t suppose you require the colored room lights with bedside rheostat.”
“Hardly.”
“Then TV. We have color sets in all the rooms, of course. But they come with or without our own closed-circuit adult movie channel. That’s an additional seven dollars.”
“Then let’s forget about it.”
The clerk smiled tentatively and gave me a card to fill out. “My, we’re just after a room as plain as bones, aren’t we?”
“I’m a simple sort of guy.”
A fellow and girl came through the leather-padded doors. Beyond was music, laughter and the sound of gambling.
“What’s in there?” I asked. “Place where a fellow can get a drink?”
“It’s the Monopoly Lounge, sir. A private club.” His eyebrows summoned a uniformed young man who now stood at attention beside my bag. “Club membership is open to our guests.”
“How much?”
“One dollar.”
“Swear me in and have the boy take up my bag.”
The clerk gave me a room key, a membership card to the club and pressed a buzzer that unlocked the leather-padded doors.
It was obvious that the customers in the Monopoly Lounge didn’t have to get up as early in the morning as the blue collar sorts at Ma Leary’s. The place was lively. It was a big room with rich carpets, soft lights and a lot of girls hanging around. They didn’t dress as sparingly as the girls at Ma’s, but they appeared to be sisters of the trade. At the deep end of the room was a stage where the Yankee Slippers were putting on their show. The bar was in a low-ceilinged alcove to one side. I made my way through the rows of slots and past the tables. There were girls dealing blackjack, but men ran the roulette wheels and dice tables. In the bar, a swarthy gent in red cummerbund was down at the far end pouring drinks for girls in evening gowns who came and went from the casino floor. A girl poured drinks for the few customers seated at the bar itself. She was a tall, formidable-looking creature who seemed to be of black and Indian mixture. Her dark hair was piled atop her head, making her look about seven feet tall. She wore red pants and a white jersey top.
“Hi, baby,” she greeted me. “I’m Simbrari.”
She stood undulating in a gentle way. “What can I bring you?”
“My throat would go dry trying to say it all. So I’ll settle for a tall Early Times and water.”
She dazzled me with a smile and poured the drink.
“Is Slide around this time of night?”
“Really couldn’t say, baby. You a friend of his?”
“Friend of a friend.”
When she went to the cash register I noticed her press a button alongside it. A moment later I had company. A pair of girls in evening gowns drifted into the alcove and headed for me. One was tall and angular, with short dark hair and carefully painted rosebud mouth. The other was fleshier, with long, honey-colored hair. She had a pale blue gown with a deep neckline to show off with.
“Hi,” said the tall brunette. “I’m Wendy.”
“And I’m June,” said the chesty blonde.
“We’re your companions for the evening,” said Wendy, pressing a cool hand across the back of my neck.
“Because the Monopoly Lounge just insists that everybody enjoy themselves,” said June, leaning over and spilling half out of her clothes. “Have you been here before?”
“No, I’m new in town. Name is Pete.”
“Well, Pete,” said blonde June, taking one of my hands in both of her own, “the way it works is, we all get acquainted, and then you can have either one of us…”
“Or both,” said Wendy with a wink.
“To bring you luck out at the tables…” said June.
“Or have a few drinks…” said Wendy.
“Or just anything,” breathed June.
“Here?” I asked.
“In your room, silly,” said June.
“You girls are so lovely I don’t know that I could afford either one of you, let alone the pair.”
“You shouldn’t worry about money at a time like this,” Wendy said. “You’ll just have the time of your life.”
“And you can use a charge card,” June said.
“What do they put you girls down as?”
June giggled. “Merchandise.”
“Or if you’re on a company expense account,” said tall Wendy, “we can show up on your room bill. For a short visit we’re laundry and dry cleaning.”
“For longer visits,” said June, “with the three of us, we can be major auto tune-ups in the garage downstairs. And boy, will you ever feel tuned up.”
“It won’t be the three of us,” I told them. “I’m not that young anymore.”
“Well then,” said June, “if you take me, I’m the shy type. I like to pretend it’s the very first time, like a little girl, a little bit frightened.”
“I, on the other hand,” said Wendy, sitting on the stool beside me and running one hand up and down my leg, “am definitely the bold type. I’m an explorer. Even with my tongue.”
With that she used it to briefly explore one of my ears, so that I couldn’t hear out of it for a moment, while June was speaking with Simbrari behind the bar.
“How about it, Pete?” Wendy said softly. “I know a couple of secrets to make you feel young again.”
June squealed. “Oh, listen, you two. Simbrari just told me there’s an opening for the three of us in the Leopard Room, if we hurry.”
Wendy stood and tugged my hand. “Oh, wow. Come on, Pete, you don’t want to miss this. And it doesn’t cost anything, either.”
“What is it?”
June took my other hand and the three of us crossed the lounge.
“Wait until you see,” said June. “I dare say it’s quite unlike anything you’ve ever seen.”
“Unless,” said Wendy, “you were in Havana before those terrible communists took over. It’ll put you in the mood.”
“I’ll say,” said June. “You might want the both of us yet, Pete.”
We left the casino and crossed to the elevators. They were self-service. “Look, girls, I’m not sure about all this. All I really wanted was a quiet drink or two.”
“We’ll have drinks brought up once we’re seated,” Wendy told me. “It’s right up here on the mezzanine.”
We left the elevator and went down the hall. The three of us paused at a door and June rapped. The door opened slightly. It was very dim inside, but I heard low music.
“Lead the way, Pete,” Wendy told me with a little shove.
I stepped into the room but the girls didn’t follow. Somebody slammed the door shut behind
me while a gloved hand tried to knock one ear through my head. In the next few seconds I felt strong guys grab my arms and pin them behind me. My .45 was ripped out from under my jacket, somebody tried to knee me in the groin and about a hundred guys seemed to be trying to punch me silly. And then I was pitching toward the floor.
TEN
I wasn’t out for long. They didn’t want to give me that much escape. Somebody was throwing cold water in my face. I was seated in a chair with my hands locked behind me in cuffs. It was in an office with a small bathroom off it. A guy went back to get more water. Three guys I recognized from the raiding party at Ma Leary’s were standing around rubbing at where my head had hurt their hands. They’d pretty much left my face alone, except for my ear and where somebody popped my cheek and scraped the inside of my mouth over some teeth. I could taste blood and my ears were singing.
One of the bruisers was the mottle-faced guy who had seemed to be in charge back at Ma’s. He knelt down and looked at me closely. “Yeah. It must be the guy Lou told us about.”
“Too bad Kenny couldn’t have been here,” said somebody else.
“Yeah,” Mottle-face repeated. “He’d like to have ripped your balls off, pal.”
He slapped me along the side of my head again. When the blur went away I saw a desk across the room. Behind it was a man in his fifties with carefully combed gray hair. He wore a dark suit and cuddled a Siamese blue point. Both he and the cat were staring at me with no special expression. Then he introduced himself.
“I’m Carl Slide.”
I couldn’t talk yet. They’d punched me pretty good in the stomach and it still hurt me to breathe.
“I know who you are and what you do for a living,” he continued, holding up my wallet. “I want to know who you’re working for. What you’re doing in Sand Valley. And these guys haven’t anything better to do the rest of the whole night than slam you around if you don’t feel like telling me.”
I took a raspy breath. “Arlington Trench.” It came out a little slurred.
“What?”
“The guy I’m working for.” I took a couple more shallow breaths. “Arlington Trench. He’s a swimming pool contractor in San Rafael. That’s near San Francisco.”
