“Well, I don’t see talent being imported to kill some smalltime whore, so I guess that’s the only premise that fits the situation,” I agreed.
“Will you want to come with me the next time I see your brother, Miles?”
“Will they let me in anytime I want, Heck?”
“Let me know when you want to go and I’ll arrange it.”
“Ah, make it tomorrow, will you? I might as well get it over with.”
To Heck’s credit he ignored the tone of my voice and said, “I’ll arrange it, Miles. Let me know what you find out about this hit man, will you?”
“Sure.”
I hung up and kept my hand on the receiver, picked it up again and dialed Julie’s number.
“Hello?” she answered, her voice sounding as if I had just awakened her.
“Julie, it’s Miles.”
There was a brief pause, and then she said, “Hello, Miles.”
I hadn’t thought it would be that awkward, but then what could I expect?
“How are you?”
“I’m fine, Miles. How are you?”
“I’m fine,” I told her.
There was more silence, and I was just about ready to hang up when she said, “Oh, Miles, this is just silly. There’s no reason for us to be this awkward with each other.”
“I agree,” I said.
“Come on over and I’ll fix us some lunch,” she told me. “I’ve just been moping around here, anyway.”
“Okay, that sounds good,” I said, “even if it’s just to give you something to do.”
“That’s not what I meant, you boob,” she scolded me. “I want to see you.”
“I want to see you, too,” I told her, then added quickly, “maybe you’ll even let me bounce some theories off of you.”
“Sure, if it’ll help. I’ll be your assistant detective.”
“Never mind being assistant detective, just have a decent lunch ready. Suddenly I’m starving.”
This may have been just what I needed, to have somebody to use as a sounding board, to talk it all out, and at the same time dispose of any awkwardness we might feel toward each other over what had happened the other night.
“You look like somebody just gave you a split decision,” Packy said when I gave him back his phone.
“That’s the way I feel, Pack. I’ll see you later.”
“How’s Benny?”
I looked at him and then said, “I don’t know, I haven’t seen him.”
He looked back at me strangely and I got up and left.
I hoofed it over to Julie and Benny’s apartment. She answered the door wearing her usual outfit of old jeans and equally old sweatshirt. She had never looked better. The sweatshirt was one of a few that Benny had made up when I started fighting. It said Kid Jacoby across the front in bright red letters.
“Where’d you get that?” I asked her.
“Benny has a few left,” she told me. “I wear them around the house when I don’t care what I look like.
I bit back a remark about how good she looked and asked what was for lunch instead.
“I thought I’d just cook up some burgers and fries, if that’s okay with you,” she told me.
“That’s fine.”
“Come on into the kitchen,” she said. “We can talk while I cook.”
I watched as she moved around the kitchen, admiring the way her breasts moved underneath the sweatshirt. I couldn’t help thinking that if Benny should be found guilty, he’d be put away for a long time. He couldn’t really expect Julie to wait for him.
But he wasn’t guilty. He couldn’t have killed Eddie.
“What was it you wanted to talk about?” she asked, breaking into my thoughts.
“Well, basically I just wanted to be able to talk out loud to someone, just to review the case for myself.”
“Well, go ahead,” she told me. “I can cook and listen at the same time.”
I started talking, recapping the case: Benny was admittedly drunk and had also admitted going to see Eddie to argue about my getting my license. Missy said that after Benny went into Eddie’s office, she heard what sounded like a fight. She got scared and called for the police. When the police arrived, they found Eddie dead and subsequently found Benny wandering around the building, apparently looking for a way out.
“It doesn’t sound good, does it?” she asked.
“No. From the time that Missy ran downstairs to wait for the cops to the time that they found Eddie’s body, Benny had to have left the office, someone else had to have come in and beaten Eddie to death, and then split.”
“Was there enough time for that?” she asked.
“There has to have been,” I answered.
She knew what I meant and nodded. If we admitted that there wasn’t enough time, then we admitted that Benny probably did kill Eddie.
“Now, I’ve been checking some of Eddie’s dissatisfied clients and so has Missy, and neither one of us can come up with anyone who had any reason to want him dead. Somebody’s afraid we’ll find something out, though, because—”
“Because what?” she asked.
I had stopped short because I was about to tell her that someone had sent three jerks after me to work me over, which I hadn’t previously mentioned to her.
“Uh, because—”
She turned away from the stove and put her hands on her hips.
“If you’re going to talk it out, Miles, you’d be better off not leaving anything out,” she told me.
She was right, so I went ahead and kept talking, telling her how I got knocked on the head and then did some damage myself.
“I thought you were taking longer to heal than you normally do,” she observed.
She brought the burgers and fries to the table and sat across from me.
“So then it has to be one of his clients,” she decided. “Someone who you talked to.”
“Maybe.”
“Who else could it be?” she asked.
That was when I told her about Max the Ax and about the bodies I kept finding.
“What has this man Purcell to do with Benny’s case?” she asked.
“Nothing, really,” I told her. I then explained why I had gone to visit Purcell, looking for information on the man in the fifth row.
Then I told her about Louise and finding her dead in her apartment.
“Oh, that must have been horrible,” she said.
“It wasn’t pretty. The police and I figure that Max did her in because he knew she’d recognized him.”
“Do the police think that maybe this man from Detroit killed Eddie?” she asked.
“I’m afraid not,” I said, picking up the last of the fries. “They feel that if the Ax had already made his hit, he wouldn’t still be in town.”
“Who says he’s still in town?” she asked.
“That’s what I’m going to find out,” I told her, “as soon as Detective Hocus comes up with a pedigree on him.”
“Pedigree?”
“A history and description. I’ve got to know what he looks like before I can go looking for him.”
She was silent for a few seconds, then she touched my arm and said, “Miles, when you find him—”
“Yeah?”
“Well, when you find him, what if he kills you?”
“I’ve tried not to think about that,” I told her.
“I wouldn’t want to lose both Benny and you, Miles. That would be more than I could stand.”
I put my hand on hers and said, “Nobody says you’re going to lose either one of us, Julie. Not if I have something to say about it,” I added, sounding ridiculously macho even to myself.
“What if the hit man was here to kill this Purcell man,” she asked, “and has nothing at all to do with Eddie Waters?”
“Then I’m barking up the wrong tree,” I told her. Then a thought struck me and must have been reflected on my face.
“What?” she asked.
“If Max the Ax kill
ed Corky Purcell,” I told her, “then that means he must be after the man in the fifth row, too.” I stood up, starting to get excited. “Sure, that’s got to be it. What else could they have wanted to know from Purcell that was worth torturing him for? One of the men who ran into me must have been the Ax.”
“And the other one?”
“I don’t know—an extra hand, maybe. Maybe the other one located Purcell and then called the Ax in. Now, if Purcell died of a heart attack before he could tell them where to find the guy from the fifth row, that means that the Ax must still be in town.”
“It sounds like it makes sense,” she said, then added, “but none of that helps Benny, does it?”
She hit home with that and I sat back down, feeling deflated.
“No, I guess it doesn’t.”
“Miles, do you suppose he could have done it?”
“What?” I asked in surprise.
“Do you suppose that Benny could have been that drunk and angry that he could have—”
“Julie, no—I, uh, no, it couldn’t be. Don’t even think it,” I told her.
“All right, Miles,” she said, rising and beginning to clean the table.
I stood up and said, “Julie, I’ve got to go and check in with Hocus, see if he came up with anything on the Ax. Thanks for the lunch, though, and for letting me talk at you.”
“That’s okay, Miles. I’m glad you came over.”
“Yeah, so am I.”
“Let me know what’s happening, okay?”
“Sure.”
She walked me to the door, then said, “Miles, how is Eddie’s secretary?”
Julie had never met either Eddie or Missy, but that was the kind of person she was, concerned about Missy’s feelings.
“She’s all right,” I said, “considering she was more than just his secretary. We buried him this morning.”
She touched my arm and said, “I’m sorry. I know you were great friends.”
“Yeah—well, I’ve got to go. I’ll call you.”
“Okay. Be careful, Miles.”
“Don’t worry,” I assured her, “that’s one of my prime concerns.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
“There’s his sheet,” Hocus said, flipping it across his desk at me, “you can read it if you want, but I can give it to you in a nutshell.”
“Go ahead,” I said, scanning the Teletype sheet but listening at the same time.
“Max uses a knife,” he told me, “but he got his name because he’s so strong, and keeps his blade so sharp, that his victims often look as if they’ve been cleaved with an ax.”
“He take any falls?” I asked.
“One, but he was just a kid. He took an assault-one rap and served his time.”
“Is he hot in Detroit?”
“Nope. The word we get is that he works out of Detroit, but he never shits where he lives.”
“Got a description?” I asked, but then I located it myself on the sheet. “Five nine, one seventy, light-brown hair, early thirties. Reads like a college boy, not a killer,” I commented.
“He’s a mean mother, Jacoby. I wouldn’t advise crossing his trail if I were you. He may not look it, but he’s as mean as they come—or so they tell me.”
“What are you going to do now?” I asked, sailing the sheet back at him.
“We’ll keep an eye out for him,” he told me, picking up the sheet.
“That’s it?”
“What do you want me to do, transmit a felony alarm on him?” he asked. “Where’s my justification? So somebody saw him in town, so what? There’s a lot of people in town.”
“Yeah, but how many of them kill people with a knife, almost cutting their heads off? What about the dead hooker?”
“What about her? I’ve got some people working the area. We come up with a description that matches Maxie, and then maybe I can transmit some kind of alarm. Right now, I got nothing on him except that he may be in town, and that sure as hell ain’t illegal—yet.”
“Yeah, okay,” I said, getting to my feet, “so your hands are tied, but mine aren’t.”
He stood up and pointed a warning finger at me.
“Jacoby, you tangle with this dude and you’ll be getting in way over your head. I’m warning you, he’s out of your league.”
What could I say to that? The man couldn’t have been righter, but I wasn’t about to admit that to him.
“We’ll see,” I shot back lamely.
“I got enough stiffs, Jacoby,” he told me, “I don’t need any more. And not everybody is as conscientious about reporting bodies as you are. You’re liable to lie where you die for days before we find you.”
“Jesus Christ,” I said to nobody in particular, “a poetic cop.”
“Get out of here,” he snapped, sitting back down, “I got enough wisecracks, too, without having to listen to yours. Keep your ass out of trouble, that’s all I ask.”
“I appreciate the concern,” I told him. “If I tum up anything I think you can use, I’ll let you know.”
“God save me from rookies,” he said to my retreating back.
Out on the street I realized that he was right. I was virtually a rookie in the private-eye biz, but this was one rookie who was going to get some experience pretty damned quick, and would learn by it.
If I managed to stay alive, that is.
Chapter Thirty-Six
I found myself heading for the office without consciously intending to. When I stopped to think about it I knew what I was going there for, and it scared me.
Both Julie and Hocus had indicated that they didn’t think I could handle a hit man from Detroit. Up until recently the only hit man from Detroit I would have thought I had to worry about was Thomas Hearns, but this was the real thing.
When I got to the office I used my key to open the door and then reached in to tum on the light before entering. When I was satisfied that everything was as it should be, I crossed the room to the door leading to the inner office. I repeated the procedure, reaching in and turning on the light, then checking the room out from the doorway before entering. Once I was satisfied that all was well, I relaxed considerably.
I walked to “my” desk and seated myself behind it.
If I was going to go up against a professional blade man, I had to be one up on him. I opened the bottom drawer of the desk where Eddie kept the .38 and stared at it. Although I was familiar with it from those earlier sessions at the range, when Eddie had first tried to get me to qualify with it, I wasn’t a professional marksman by any means, but Max the Ax had to get close to me if he was going to use his blade, and at that range I wouldn’t be likely to miss.
I hoped.
I took the gun and holster out of the drawer and opened the gun to check the cylinder. It was loaded with five shots, with an empty chamber under the hammer. I reached further back in the drawer and came up with a box of shells and a clip-on belt holster. I dropped a few extra shells in my pocket, then put the box and the shoulder rig back and shut the drawer. Standing up, I clipped the holster onto my belt in back and slid the .38 home. It wasn’t very comfortable, but the thought that the gun might save my life made it bearable. As I shut the desk lamp the phone rang, making me jump a good foot. I stared at it for two more rings, then picked it up.
“Private investigator,” I said.
“I hear you’re looking for me,” a man’s voice said.
“That depends,” I told him. “Who are you?”
“I’m the man who thinks you should stay away from southpaws, Kid.”
“You’re Corky Purcell’s friend?” I asked him.
“Yeah,” he muttered, “poor Corky. He loaned me his ticket and got killed for it.”
“Look, I’ve been wanting to thank you,” I told him, “but now I think you’re in trouble. There’s a man in town—”
“I know about him,” he told me. “You’d stay healthier if you’d forget about me,” he suggested. “I’ll accept your thanks—”
>
“And my help, I hope,” I cut in, “because I’m still offering it.”
“Well, as long as you know what you’re getting into,” he said.
“I’m prepared for the worst,” I said, touching the .38.
“I guess that’s it then. I do need help. I’m not fool enough to think I can avoid this guy forever.”
“Where can we meet?” I asked him.
“Let me think,” he said, and he took so long I thought maybe he’d hung up. “Okay, meet me under the West Side Highway, at Fifty-fifth Street, in an hour.”
“Okay, it’s a date.”
“Uh, listen, thanks, Kid.”
“Yeah, sure, friend. I owe you one, anyway.”
He hung up before I had a chance to ask him for his name.
I started to leave the office, and then thought better of it. If I went to meet this guy without letting someone know about it and something happened, it might be days before they found my body. I called the only person I could trust.
“Julie, listen,” I told her when she answered, and then explained that I was meeting someone and told her where. That was all I told her. “If I don’t call you in, say, two hours, call Hocus and tell him where I went. You got that?”
“Yes, Miles, but—”
“Just do this for me, okay?”
“All right, Miles—but be careful.”
I promised I would and hung up.
As I left the office I felt for the gun on my back, making sure it fit snugly into the holster. The weight of it was comforting as I rode down in the elevator.
I just hoped a cop didn’t catch me with it.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
“You don’t look like one of them fags what likes to meet under the highway, you know?” the cab driver told me as he turned down Fifty-fifth Street.
“What do I look like?” I asked him, squirming in the backseat because the gun butt was digging into my back.
“You look more like a pug with your mug kind of busted up like that,” he observed. “I used to do some fighting myself when I was younger.”
“Is that a fact?” I asked.
“Yeah—here we are, Mac. Fifty-fifth and the West Side Highway. If we had some more time I’d tell you about some of my big fights.”
Eye in the Ring Page 13