A few things happened at once.
First, my stitches went. I felt the pull and then the pain as they came apart, and I could feel the blood soaking through my shirt.
The effect that the blow had on him, however, made up for the pain it caused me. He took a good punch, there was no denying that, because instead of going down he staggered back a few feet, shaking his head. The desired effect, though, had been achieved, because his glasses had gone sailing off and out of the ring.
It wasn’t until he stopped shaking his head that he discovered what had happened, and that grim look on his face dissolved into one of panic.
He couldn’t see me without his glasses!
“My glasses,” he shouted, “where are my glasses? You bastard! My glasses!” he kept shouting. He was slashing about the ring with his knife, but he wasn’t even close to me. I leaned against the ropes and tried to stop myself from bleeding, but I didn’t know what to grab first, my arm or my side.
“Jacoby!” a voice called, and I peered out into the shadows and tried to pick up who it was. I spotted Hocus coming down aisle, followed by his partner, Wright, and some uniformed police.
“Where the fuck were you?” I demanded, yelling it out.
Hocus motioned to the uniformed cops, who went into the ring and had no trouble subduing and disarming Max the Ax.
Hocus got up on the ring apron, and when he was right next to me I asked again, “Where the fuck were you?”
“Where the fuck was I?” he demanded angrily. “If I had listened to you, goddamnit, you’d be dead by now!” he shot back at me.
His face was beet red and the cords on his neck were standing out.
“This is just what I was afraid of,” he told me. “You decided to make a grandstand play, and you almost got yourself and the old man killed! If we hadn’t gotten an anonymous call telling us—”
“The old man,” I repeated, starting to feel light-headed. “Did you get the old man?”
“Trelayne? Yeah, on the way out. Where the hell was he running?”
“He’s not Trelayne,” I told him.
“He’s not? Who the hell is he, then? You told me he was—”
“Yeah, I know. Look, can we save this until later? I’m bleeding to death here, in case you didn’t notice.”
He looked at me without sympathy and said, “Yeah, so you are. I wonder whose fault that is?”
He grabbed my arm to help me out of the ring and said, “C’mon, I’ve got an ambulance waiting outside. I figured you’d need one.”
“That’s what I like,” I told him, “a vote of confidence.” With him holding my arm I jumped down off the ring apron, and then I just kept on falling . . .
Chapter Fifty-Three
. . . until I woke up in the emergency room.
I had been patched up again, and when they saw I was awake they tried to talk me into staying overnight.
“Not on your life,” I told the doc, sitting up.
“No,” he agreed, “but maybe on yours.”
I looked at Hocus and said, “Did you take the Ax and the phony Trelayne to the precinct?” as the doctor gave me a shot of something.
“Yeah, they’re holding them until I get there to talk to them.”
“Well, that’s where I’m going, too,” I told him, sliding off the table. “I’m going to be in on the close of this.”
Hocus looked at the doctor and shrugged, then held my arm while we walked out to his car.
At the precinct they let me sit in on the interrogation of both men, provided I kept my mouth shut. I was too exhausted and doped up to do much of anything else.
They talked to Max the Ax first. His composure had returned because he had his glasses back on, and he was too much of a pro to tell them much of anything. They questioned him on Lucas Pratt, Corky Purcell and the hooker, but he didn’t say a word. It was only when they told him that Willy Wells was still alive and would identify him that he looked a little annoyed, but beyond that he gave them nothing.
“Ask him about Eddie,” I told Hocus.
Hocus looked at me sadly, as if to say, “Reaching again,” but he went ahead and threw some questions at Max the Ax about Eddie Waters, and got nothing more than he’d given up on the other three.
“Take him out,” Hocus told a uniformed officer.
When Collins was out of the room I said, “It had to have been him.”
“Jacoby—” Hocus began, but then he stopped and waved his hand as if to say “The hell with it.”
He turned to an officer standing by the door and told him, “Bring the old man in.”
The old man was a different story. He was only too willing to talk, saying that he didn’t have anything to do with the murders, that was all the other guy’s doing. He was only supposed to call me and arrange a meeting. When that fell through they made him call again, a call that had resulted in the Grand Central meeting.
“All I did was make some phone calls, fellas, that’s all. I’m no hit man, I’m no killer,” he told us desperately.
Voices started fading in and out as Hocus continued his questioning of the old man. Whatever the doctor had given me was really doing a number on me and, at one point, I think I even dozed off in my seat.
“What’s your connection with this whole thing?” I heard Hocus ask him.
“Nothing, that’s what I’m trying to tell ya. I ain’t got no personal connection with any of this. I was just doing a job.”
“For who?” I asked. The funny thing was, even as I asked the question I thought I knew the answer. It was as if I had slept for a few moments and saw the answer in a dream.
The man behind the whole thing, the man who had brought Max Collins in from Detroit, had to be somebody connected with boxing, somebody who knew I was looking for the man in the fifth row, somebody who knew me and knew where to find me, where to call me on the phone.
That’s why I wasn’t all that surprised when the old man looked at me and said, “Dick Gallaghen.”
Chapter Fifty-Four
The decision was made to wait until morning, when Gallaghen was in his office, before we went over to see him. Hocus had somebody drive me home, a ride I remembered nothing about when I woke up the following morning.
Julie didn’t know whether to be nice to me because I was still alive, or pissed at me for getting myself cut up again and then not calling her.
When she found out that I had no intentions of staying in bed and was going out again as soon as I woke up, she decided to go ahead and be pissed.
“It’s almost over, Julie,” I told her.
“Well go ahead, then,” she told me, “get it over with and then come back.”
I went downstairs and found Hocus waiting for me in his car.
“You’re late,” he told me.
I couldn’t remember our having made an appointment for him to pick me up, but I got in and said, “Sorry, I overslept.”
“He overslept, he says,” he muttered, starting the car. “You wouldn’t leave the station house last night until I promised to pick you up this morning, and now you tell me you overslept.”
“Must have been that shit the doctor shot me up with,” I told him.
“Sure. Here,” he said, handing me my gun from his pocket. “We picked it up last night.” I took it and put it in my pocket.
“How do you intend to play this?” I asked him.
He started to answer, then looked at me and said, “I’ve got a feeling that you want to suggest something.”
“Yeah, I do. Let me go in ahead of you. You can stay out in the front office and keep Gallaghen’s secretary from buzzing him. When I get inside his office I’ll switch on his intercom, and you’ll be able to hear everything that’s said.”
He thought it over, then shrugged and said, “Sounds okay. My partner’s bringing the old man with him, so if you can’t crack him we can bring him in and that might do it.”
“Okay”
I put my head back and let
the sun bake my eyes, which felt gritty, and asked, “Did you talk to Max the Ax again after I left?”
He shot a glance over at me again, and then said, “Yeah, I did.”
“Did he say anything about killing Eddie Waters?”
“Kid, he didn’t say anything about anything. The man’s a pro. He’s not about to talk.”
“It had to be him,” I said with my eyes closed.
“You’ve got to prove it, kid,” he told me, “not pray for it.”
He was right about that. The only way to get Benny out of jail for murder was to prove he didn’t do it, and so far I hadn’t even come close.
We rode the rest of the way in silence, and when we reached Gallaghen’s building Hocus parked his car next to a hydrant and we went up. We found Wright, Hocus’s partner, waiting for us with the phony Trelayne in front of Gallaghen’s door.
“You get a name on him yet?” I asked, indicating the old man.
Hocus shook his head.
“He’s been talkative about everything but that,” he told me.
“He still thinks he’s got a chance of being let go,” Wright added.
The old guy threw Wright a hurt look and then threw Hocus a hopeful one.
“Get inside,” Hocus told him, opening the door and pushing him in. We all followed.
Patrice looked up from her desk, frowning until she saw me.
“Hi, Jack. What’s all this?” she asked.
“Just don’t touch your intercom, little lady,” Hocus told her, showing her his shield and ID.
“Police,” she said. “I don’t understand.” She looked at me and asked again, “What’s going on?”
“I think if you’re patient, Pat, you’ll find out,” I told her. “I’d like you to do me a very big favor, okay? I promise you’ll understand in a few minutes.”
“What do you want me to do?” she asked.
“I want you to buzz Dick and tell him that I’m here. Don’t mention the fact that anyone else is here.”
“Jack, what—”
“This is important, Pat,” I told her.
I was hoping Hocus wouldn’t try to push her, because then I thought she’d balk. Luckily he kept quiet, and she decided to go along.
“All right, Jack.” She depressed the proper button, and when Gallaghen answered she announced, “Miles Jacoby is here to see you, sir.”
There was a long beat of silence as he adjusted himself to the fact that I wasn’t dead, that I hadn’t been killed the night before by his hit man.
“Well, send him in, Pat,” he finally told her. She turned off the intercom, looked at me and shrugged.
“Thanks,” I told her. “Shouldn’t take me more than a few seconds to switch on the intercom,” I told Hocus.
He nodded, and I went over and knocked on Gallaghen’s door,
“Come ahead,” he called out.
I opened the door and walked in.
“Hello, Dick,” I said to the man who was my last chance to prove my brother innocent of murder.
“Hi, Jack.”
I approached his desk and took his outstretched hand. As I shook hands with him with my right hand, I hit the “on” switch on his intercom with my left, saying, “How are you?” to cover the small click it made.
“I’m fine, my boy, but you look a little worse for wear.”
“Yeah, well, that guy you hired has been giving me kind of a hard time these past few days, but that’s all settled now,” I told him, deciding to get right down to it.
He frowned and said, “What guy? What are you talking about, Jack?”
“Oh, come off it, Dick,” I said, sitting down. “You must have known I’d put the whole thing together sooner or later.”
He took time to light one of his smelly Turkish cigarettes, also using the time to think. Should he waste the breath it would take to deny it, he was probably thinking. Finally he planted his right forefinger along his right cheek and said thoughtfully, “Actually, I was never quite sure whether you would or you wouldn’t, Jack. I’ve watched you fight for three years now, and I always thought that you could have been a good one if you’d put your heart into it. The problem was, you never did. So I thought, what happens now that he wants to play detective? Well, I figure maybe you’ll want to put your heart into that. You’re a smart young man, Jack, so I figured if we kept an eye on you, maybe you’d lead us to Trelayne.”
“How did you know that the man I was looking for was Trelayne?” I asked.
“I got a call from someone who thought the information might be worth money. His name is not important; he was just somebody who hung around. He told me that Trelayne was going to be at the fight that night. I called some friends of mine in Detroit and asked that they send me someone who could, ah, take care of him for me. They sent me this fellow Max the Ax—can you imagine such a name? He assured me that he would take care of Trelayne that night.”
“But he didn’t.”
Gallaghen gave a great sigh and said, “No, he did not. In fact, after the fight he lost him completely. I was able to find out whose ticket he used to get in, and I gave Mr. ‘Ax’ the information before I gave it to you.”
“Why did you give it to me at all?” I asked.
“Could I have refused without arousing your suspicions?” he asked me. “Obviously that information was available to me since I promoted the fight. I could not refuse you, Jack; all I could do was make sure my man got there first.”
“And he killed Purcell without finding out where Trelayne was,” I finished.
Again he sighed, which had always been his way of showing his displeasure.
“The man was a lout,” he told me. “Not a skilled interrogator, but a killer. He decided to torture the old man for the information, and the old man died before he could tell my man where Trelayne was.”
“And even if he had told him where Trelayne was, he would have killed him anyway, to keep me from talking to him.”
“I imagine.”
“Was he supposed to kill me, too?” I asked.
“No, no, my boy, I never wanted that. The night under the highway you merely surprised him, and he lashed out in self-defense. He had strict orders that no harm was to come to you. That was insisted upon by—” he started to say, but then stopped, as if he realized he was saying too much.
“By who, Dick?” I asked.
“Why, by me, of course, my boy. I’ve always been very fond of you, you know.”
I let it go, even though I knew he was holding something back.
“Okay, so if he wasn’t supposed to kill me, why lure me to the Felt Forum?” I asked.
Another sigh, after which he said, “I’m afraid the man panicked. You see, you had seen him twice now. Once at the hotel where Purcell was staying and once under the highway.”
“I didn’t get a good look at him either time,” I told him.
“Yes, but he had no way of knowing that. Then he became aware that you were after him, as well as looking for Trelayne.”
“Who told him that?” I asked.
He merely shrugged and raised his hands.
“I assume the man has his own connections,” was all he’d say, but I felt that, once again, he was lying.
“What about those mugs on the street?” I asked.
“They were only supposed to warn you off,” he said after another obligatory sigh. “Unfortunately, you did not give them a chance.”
“And Lucas Pratt?”
“That was not my idea,” he sighed. “I did hire the man, but he did not clear his methods through me.”
No, that would have been all Max’s idea, all right. He must have known Lucas was a junkie, and whether he killed him deliberately or Lucas just died on him the way Purcell did, he had to make it look like an accident. As far as Gallaghen was concerned, he couldn’t avoid all the blame for Lucas’s death. Max had to have gotten Lucas’s name from someone, and Dick fit the bill.
With Purcell, Max obviously didn’t have time
to set up an accident, because I practically walked in on him and he had to get away. He and whoever he had with him. It had probably just been a small-time hood he was using as a bird dog, since he didn’t know New York all that well. He’d probably discarded the guy when he was of no further use—one way or another.
How he spotted Louise, the black hooker, was anybody’s guess. Maybe she even got brave and tried to hit him up for a payoff. Who knew? Once he knew about her, though, she had to go.
But Eddie, what about Eddie?
“Dick, what about Eddie?”
He paused a moment to crush out his cigarette and then took the time to light up another.
“Your brother, he’s going to get convicted, isn’t he?” Dick asked.
“It looks that way, Dick,” I told him, “unless I can prove he didn’t do it.”
Shaking his head, he said, “I can’t help you prove it, Jack. In fact, this whole conversation is just your word against mine, otherwise I wouldn’t be talking to you.”
I forced myself to look right into his eyes.
“For your own peace of mind, however, I will tell you that your brother is innocent.”
It took a monumental effort for me to remain in my chair. I wanted to jump to that intercom and yell at Hocus, “See, you dumb cop?”
“Who killed him, Dick?”
“It was this fellow, Max the Ax,” he told me. “I, ah, learned that your brother was on his way to see Eddie and that he was drunk. I sent my man there ahead of him. He waited outside the office, and when the secretary came running out he went in. Your brother was actually so drunk, Jack, that he blundered past my man without even seeing him.”
I believed that. It wasn’t the first time Benny had gotten blind drunk.
“When my man went into Eddie’s office, he found him unconscious. Your brother had indeed given him a fearful beating, Jack, but he didn’t kill him. My man took care of that, and then he just waited for the police to find Benny wandering around the building. After they left with your brother, my man simply walked away from the scene. Where is Max the Ax, by the way? Did you kill him?”
I shook my head.
“He’s in custody, Dick, and so is the man you—or he—had impersonating Trelayne.” I leaned forward in my chair and asked him, “Is there really a Trelayne, Dick?”
Eye in the Ring Page 20