by Kirk Dougal
I shook my head. “Nothing you don’t already know. I had a witness holed up here for the home office. The desk clerk can tell you about it.”
“Jesus, Rick. On this floor?”
I hooked a thumb past the dead loogan’s body. “That room there.”
Dutch walked over and opened the door to Voice’s room. He moved through the space quickly, pausing only by the empty bottle of rye and full ashtray. “Where’s your pawn, Rick?”
“I got them out the back door as soon as I could.”
Dutch stared at me for a few seconds and I looked him in the eye. Neither of us moved.
“That’s him,” a reedy voice said behind me. “That’s the man I’ve been telling you about.”
I turned to the desk clerk, his face covered with sweat and hands fluttering in the air like a wounded butterfly. He backed away from me.
“What do you know about the person staying in this room?” Dutch asked.
“I never met her,” the man answered.
“Her?” Dutch glanced at me and raised an eyebrow.
“Yes,” the clerk continued. “Yesterday a maid knocked on the door and asked if they needed anything. She said an older woman answered and told her everything was fine.”
I smiled when I remembered Voice’s grandmother voice almost working on me. I turned to Dutch and his cheeks reddened. “Ask him about the third man in the lobby. He was in on this, too.”
“You holding out on me?” Dutch asked the clerk.
Sweat rolled down the man’s chin. “No, no, Detective. I’d never keep information from you.” He pulled out a handkerchief from his jacket pocket and dabbed at his forehead. “He’s right. There was a man sitting in the lobby and I think he did arrive with the two gentlemen. But he was downstairs when the shots were fired.”
“What’d he do then?” Dutch asked.
“He took the elevator up to this floor.”
Dutch wrote in his notebook. “Which way did he go when he came back down?”
“I never saw him leave.” The words hung in the stale air of the hotel room.
“Swell, we got a dropper loose in the hotel with two stiffs on the carpet.” He waved at the uniformed police officer in the doorway. “Take him downstairs and get a description of this third man. And watch over him until we’re done!” He yelled after them. Dutch turned to the other detective in the hallway. “Jim, let’s get a couple of uniforms on the doors to this joint and then grab a crew and start going floor by floor.” He sighed as the man nodded and walked out of sight. “This is going to take more time than I’ve got.”
I smiled and pulled out a couple of cigarettes, offering one of them to my friend. “So what’s the wire on the dead men?”
Dutch took the cigarette and struck a match. “We squaring up?” I nodded in reply. “I don’t know this one,” he gestured to the man on the floor outside the door but kept on moving toward the landing, “but that one, he’s been on Big C’s payroll for a while. Does a lot of muscle work for him in the protection rackets.” He glanced at me. “What’s your tale?”
I could not tell him everything but I knew I had to let Dutch in on enough to keep him on my side. I might need him to find Raven. “It makes sense that they were from Big C’s crowd. If not his, then some of Rose’s men.”
“This is about your phone call earlier.”
I nodded. “My client saw something they shouldn’t have. We think there’s a pro working both sides of the street, someone who is bumping off people from both crews. Maybe under contract, maybe on their own.”
“Sweet Jesus,” Dutch muttered. “A freelancer.”
“Or they were tied to the third boss I heard whispers about and they’re looking to even some scores. But yeah, who knows what they might do if they don’t have any loyalty to either side.” Now it was time to feed Dutch the line. “I think the Hull kid got hung up in it somehow. That’s why I’m looking for him, too.”
“Well, he’s no killer.” Dutch flipped through some pages in his notebook. “Here. Eric Hull. Small-time con. Ran with the Second Avenue Players. Never anything bloody but pretty good in switches and the like. You better find him fast or these guys will chew him up.” Dutch sighed and glanced around the landing. “You got anything else for me here?”
“No. Sorry.” I put the last of my cigarette into the ashtray hanging by the elevator. “Let me know if you hear anything.”
“Watch your back, Rick.”
Chapter 30
I took my time walking out the front of the Lansford, pausing to run my hand through my hair and replace my hat in the gray afternoon. My eyes never left the street, however, searching for someone paying too much attention to me. A quick glance in each direction and then I walked down the sidewalk to my right, the opposite direction of the Cardinal Diner. For the next half-hour I traveled a six-block area in a path a drunk man would have had trouble setting, crossing in mid-street twice to see if anyone followed my trail, before I ended up in front of the red door of the eatery again.
Voice had left but the brunette with the bright red lipstick still worked the counter so I sat down for a cup of coffee and a slab of pie. The kid’s safety had me worried, but if I moved too fast, before I knew the play was safe, I might as well shoot him myself the next time we met. The third man from the hotel remained on my mind and an unanswered telephone call to the office did nothing to calm my nerves.
On the way back, I stared silently out the taxi window while the driver droned on about … I didn’t pay enough attention to know what he said. But the incessant noise kept interfering with my thoughts on the cases and I finally snapped, telling him to shut up before I plugged him. Shea would not have needed the warning.
Gretchen tilted her head to the side when I opened the office door. The warning was needed. I had been ready to ask straight out about Voice but instead eased the door back the rest of the way and noticed the man sitting on the couch. He wore a dark suit loose across broad shoulders and the beginnings of an alderman lapped over his belt. One black eyebrow ran thick across his forehead and made the man appear deep in thought. But it was his eyes—black dots set deep inside unblinking sockets, staring from two emotionless valleys—that left me cold enough to want to leave my coat on for a while.
“Mr. Dowland, this is Mr. Johnson. He would like a word with you about a business proposition.” Gretchen sniffed. “He does not have an appointment.”
I smiled but part of me wanted to pull out my gun and fill the room with lead. The air around the man felt close, as if he had sucked the life from it. “An appointment won’t be necessary, Miss Talbot. I can talk to you right now, Mr. Johnson, if you’d care to step into my office.” I gestured toward my door. “Oh, Miss Talbot,” I continued before closing the door behind us, “did you take care of that package I asked you to pick up?”
“Yes, Mr. Dowland, it was delivered safely.”
I nodded and went into my office. “Please, have a seat, Mr. Johnson.” I hung up my overcoat. The move gave me the opportunity to feel the weight of the .45 in my shoulder holster. I hoped I wouldn’t need the gun again. Even Dutch would be forced to do something if somebody fell over dead every time I walked into a room.
“You can call me Bones.”
I nodded as I sat down in my chair. “The in-the-body kind?”
The man smiled. The movement made the area around his eyes scrunch up, adding depth to the sockets, pulling them farther back into the shadows of his face. He looked like a grinning skull with skin stretched tight over the bone. “I was known for liking games of chance when I was younger,” he said.
He could tell me his nickname came from a set of dice but one glance at his head told me the true origin. “Well then, you can call me RJ. Now that we have the introductions out of the way, what can I do for you today, Bones?”
“My employer sent me to inquire how business was doing these days.” He made a show of crossing his legs and brushing imaginary lint off his pants. But I felt his
eyes still boring into my face.
“Busy enough,” I said while I pulled out a cigarette. I did not offer him one. “Can’t complain. Please thank your boss for his concern.”
“Mr. Rose would like to hire you for a job if you are available.”
The room fell silent. I realized this was how Rose operated. Big C would have shown up with a couple of Brunos and beat me to a pulp until I agreed to work for him or get out of town, whichever he wanted. But Roberts’ notes and Evelyn’s stories had been correct. Rose acted more subtly. He removed potential obstacles before they even came into play, removing a stumble by purchasing what might stand between him and his goal. Of course the flipside, the part Evelyn had never fully understood in her pact with the devil, was the refusal of the job offer would most likely end up bloody. I walked a fine line and still was not certain who had the bulge in this test.
“What kind of a case are we talking about?”
“Something with the chance for a little bite to it,” Bones answered. “Mr. Rose appreciates people with specific skill sets. He says you can more than handle yourself in those types of situations.”
The man fiddled with his watch and I caught myself thinking of the galoot as a real player, not a NPC. The time piece was my clue. “I’ll need a few more specifics than that.”
“Mr. Rose has an ongoing argument over economic boundary lines with a competitor in the city. At the same time this fluctuation of territories became an issue, associates of Mr. Rose began disappearing. A few ended up dead.”
“How embarrassing.” I grinned and the man let loose with a cold smirk.
“It has been,” Bones agreed, “but that is why he would like your help. He believes you are the type of person who can root out if his competitor is behind this inconvenience.”
“Please, thank Mr. Rose for the vote of confidence.” I puffed on the cigarette. “We haven’t talked about a fee. Perhaps I should speak with Mr. Rose about the money.”
Bones smiled and shook his head slowly. “That will not be possible. Mr. Rose specifically said he would not meet with you.”
“Was it something I said?”
Bones shrugged.
I dragged on the Lucky until the heat reached my fingertips and then stabbed the butt into the ashtray. Finding Raven was my priority, but the best lead I had so far pointed toward an unknown assassin working for a mob boss who had disappeared. Now one of the two men I suspected was involved in the disappearance asked me to find the killer for him. My stomach churned while I wondered if this was a legitimate offer or only a chance for Rose to keep me close so he could finish me off himself. I had no choice; I needed to play the string out.
“I’ll do it.” I stood up. “But it will take a couple of days to finish up the case I’m on. In the meantime, get me the names of Rose’s men who were snuffed so I can start asking some questions.”
Bones reached into his coat pocket and placed an envelope on the corner of the desk. “You’ll have the list tomorrow.” He turned and walked to the door, hesitating with his hand on the knob. “I’ll be back to check on your progress in a few days.”
The sound of the outer door closing reached my ears as I pulled the whiskey bottle from the drawer. The click of heels on the floor told me to bring out two glasses instead of one.
“What did he want?” Gretchen asked as she assumed her seat on the edge of the desk.
“Rose offered me a job.”
“Did you take it?”
I picked up the envelope and stared at the ten c-notes insides. “Rose thinks I did.” I shrugged. “He wants me to find the button man knocking off his men. He thinks it’s Big C.” I sat down again. “Or he wants me to think that it’s Big C. Who do you want me to find?”
Gretchen smiled and crossed her legs, the skirt riding up so a sliver of her garters showed. “You don’t need to look very hard to find some people.”
I filled the glasses and handed her one. Our fingers touched and my body tingled. “What’d you do with the kid?”
“He’s stashed in my building, Room 406.”
“How’d you swing that?”
She smiled. “I told the super he was my cousin and he needed to stay some place for a couple of weeks.”
“That’s aces, doll.” I reached for the stack of files and notepad on the desk. They were too far away and I had to lean forward but I stopped when I saw the writing on the paper. I had been at the desk studying Roberts’ notes and jotting down my thoughts before I went to visit Voice. But now the notepads faced away from my chair, as if someone had been reading them and did not put them back correctly. “Was the door locked when you came back to the office?”
“Yes.”
“Was Johnson already here?”
“No. He didn’t show up until a few minutes before you made it back.” She put her glass down. “What’s the tale, Rick?”
I stood up and moved around the desk, searching for anything else that might have been moved or dropped on the floor. Finding nothing out of the ordinary, I walked to the outer office door and knelt down to examine the lock but did not find scratches on the metal. I rubbed a hand through my hair before returning to Gretchen who now stood in the inner doorway, her head tilted in silent question. A coin was spinning in my head, looking for a slot to fall into but I wasn't about to talk to Gretchen about it—maybe Gwen—but not her lookalike.
“The files on my desk have been moved. But it was a clean sneak.”
“Did they take anything?” she asked.
I started to walk to Wheeler’s desk, my foot hanging in the air for a heartbeat before I shook my head and kept moving back to my own chair. “No. I think they were just looking.” I finished the last of my whiskey.
Gretchen walked over and placed a hand on my shoulder. She stood close enough for me to hear the whisper of her blouse against skin as she breathed. Her perfume wafted into my nose and threatened to cloud my thinking. “You’re tired, Ricky.” She squeezed my shoulder. “And tense. You could come to my place and get some rest. My roommate is out of town until next Monday. You’ll be closer to the kid, too.”
I stared at her for a moment, my mouth open but no words escaping. She leaned down and kissed me, gentle, her lips gliding slowly over mine. Suddenly my hand was on the back of her head, fingers gripping her hair. She responded by leaning in closer and biting my lip before her tongue shot into my mouth, exploring.
My breath was nearly gone when the blank spot in my thoughts abruptly filled. Evelyn’s face hung in the dark, glaring at me. I pulled back, opening my eyes, and Gretchen stared at me. Her chest heaved and she licked her lips, the red already smeared into her skin.
“I need to go home for a little while,” I said. “Change my clothes. But I’ll be over later to check on the kid.”
“That better not be all you’re checking on,” she said between breaths.
Gretchen reminded me too much of Gwen and the memory of the night before I entered the game. The whole situation felt wrong, as if I was somehow cheating on Gwen with her sister. But I could no longer say no, just like I couldn't turn down Gwen in my apartment.
“I’ll stop by.”
Gretchen smiled and leaned in for a quick kiss. “See you later,” she whispered.
I sat at my desk for several minutes after I heard the door shut. My thoughts whirled and leaped, images of Gretchen, Gwen, and Evelyn parading in a never ending line. I lifted the glass and tried to drink before I remembered it was empty. The sight of a faint red smear made me pull out my handkerchief and wipe the remains of Gretchen’s lipstick off my face before I filled the glass, gulping down half the golden liquid before I stopped.
Only then did I wake up. I ignored the empty files on my desk and jumped out of the chair, closing the distance to Wheeler’s desk in three long strides. Not bothering to open any drawers, I reached underneath and felt along the bottom edge of the lap drawer. My fingers brushed against paper, not wood, and I grabbed the envelope I had taped there earlier.
Robert’s notes were still safe.
I made my way back to my desk and sank down into the chair again. The folders filled my vision but part of me wondered why I hesitated to show Gretchen where I hid the papers.
Chapter 31
Music played softly through the wall and the sound of a woman laughing mixed in with the beat. The sounds came from the apartment next to mine where a blonde woman lived. When I had walked off the elevator, she stood outside her door, coming to life as I moved into view and giving me a broad, inviting smile. The software programmers gave players a wide variety of entertainments to choose from inside the game. The paper thin walls of my apartment allowed me the opportunity to listen to some of them.
I exhaled and smoke swirled around my head. Dinner had been the blue plate special at the diner around the corner and I capped off meat loaf and potatoes with a drink while staring out the window of my apartment. On the table beside my chair sat Roberts’ file, untouched since I tossed the folder there when I sat down. Instead of thinking about Raven, my mind wandered to my final words with Evelyn that pushed her away, wondering if that would be the last time we spoke. The thought did not sit well in my gut. I also thought of Gretchen and what would happen after I checked on Voice. Fighting her off was becoming harder to do and part of me wondered why I even tried to keep her at arm’s length.
The buzzer dragged me out of my thoughts. I stared at the door for a few seconds, certain I would find Gretchen on the other side. Arguing with myself about the situation had taken too long so she had made my mind up for me, as tired of the chase as I was weary of running. On the off chance I was wrong, however, I paused long enough to pull the .45 out of the shoulder holster where it hung over the back of my writing desk. The buzzer sounded again.
“I’m coming,” I growled, not caring if the words carried through the door. “I told you I would be over…” The rest of the sentence died in my mouth as I yanked open the door. Evelyn stood in the hall, her mink wrap and evening gown appearing as out of place in my apartment building as a boat sailing down First Avenue.