“Did he have any baggage with him?”
“A big suitcase. It was heavy: even he had trouble with it.” She cocked her head on one side. “Why the interest?”
Toni sat still, thinking. This was important information. He knew he should get back fast and telephone Luigi. They might pick up this sonofabitch in Miami before he hired a boat. Then he looked at Freda. Maybe an hour wouldn’t make any difference.
He stood up.
“Let’s you and me find out if one of those beds is soft,” he said.
She laughed.
“That’s what you’re here for, isn’t it?”
Breathing fast, his unsteady fingers unbuckling his gun harness, Toni followed her into her bedroom.
Sitting in the shade and cursing the mosquitoes that were buzzing around him, Johnny saw Toni come out on deck and get into the motorboat. He looked at his strap watch. Toni had been in there for an hour.
Johnny didn’t need to exercise his imagination to know what those two had been doing. He felt a cold bitterness towards her. How could she tell him she loved him?
He waited until Toni’s boat was out of sight, then he walked quickly across the jetty and into the living-room.
He heard her in the kitchen. He went to the door to find her making pastry. In a casserole, the pigeon breasts were simmering.
“It’s all right,” she said, seeing him in the doorway, and quickly she told him what she had said to Toni. “I sold it to him. I know he’s convinced.”
Johnny drew in a deep breath. If Toni now convinced Massino of this story, then the heat would be off. Massino would know that he ( Johnny ), once in Havana, would be out of his reach.
“I told him you had a heavy suitcase with you,” Freda went on. She paused while she rolled out the pastry. “That was smart, wasn’t it, Johnny?”
But in spite of what she had done for him, in spite of her cleverness, Johnny could only think of the hour she had spent with Toni alone.
“Did you enjoy his company?” he asked, his tone bitter.
She looked at him, her eyes suddenly stony.
“Is that all you have to say… no thanks?”
He moved uneasily.
“I’m asking you… did you enjoy his company? You got laid, didn’t you?”
She began to line a pie-dish with the pastry. He stood there, waiting. He watched her tip the contents of the casserole into the pie-dish.
“Didn’t you?”
“That’s right.”
He wanted to hit her but he controlled the urge. “You’re nothing but a whore, aren’t you?”
She covered the pie-dish with pastry, then she put the dish into the oven.
“Aren’t you?”
“Yes.” She turned and faced him. “Before I married Ed I was a busy, busy call girl. He knew it and now you know it.” Without looking at him again, she washed her hands under the tap, dried them, and moving past him, she went into the living-room. He hesitated, then followed her, feeling ashamed and defeated.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “Thank you for what you’ve done for me. Forget what I said.”
She sat down.
“That man meant no more to me than dozens of other men who have paid for it.” She looked directly at him. “While he was getting rid of his dirty lust, I was thinking of you. You’re the only one, Johnny, who has ever turned me on.” She shrugged. “Can’t you see, if you can get this stupid jealousy out of your mind, that I had to do it? I had to have him here to convince him you had gone and to convince him you’re heading for Havana. If I had held back, he wouldn’t have believed me. Can’t you see that? Now, you’re safe.”
Johnny went to her and put his arms around her. “I’m sorry baby. You mean so much to me. I’m sorry.”
“Forget it.” She kissed him, then she got to her feet and went to the window to stare across the lake. “So what are we going to do now? You mustn’t show yourself. Can’t we go tomorrow… can’t we get away?”
“Not yet. Although it’s safer, baby, the way you’ve fixed it, it’s also a lot more complicated.”
“How do you mean?”
“If we took off tomorrow Ed would ask questions. He’d talk to Salvadore who would then know you lied to Toni. Then he’d start a hunt, not only for me, but for you. We have to wait at least another four days.”
She lifted her hands in despair.
“Wait… that’s all I do… wait!”
Then they heard the sound of the truck approaching and she went into the kitchen.
Massino was looking at the weekly numbers figures that Andy had given him when Toni came on the line, calling from Little Creek.
Massino looked at Andy.
“It’s Toni. Get on the extension and write down what he says!” Then to Toni, he barked. “Did you find him?”
“No, Mr. Joe. I missed him by six hours. He was here, but he’s gone now. The chick says he’s headed for Miami to hire a boat for Havana.”
“Havana?” Massino’s voice shot up.
“Yeah.”
“Well, come on, come on! Give me the details!”
Toni told him all he knew. He was careful not to give details of his visit to Freda. He said she gave him a description of Johnny, mentioned the medal, said he had been holed up there for three nights and had gone off, carrying a heavy suitcase.
“So what do you want me to do, Mr. Joe?”
Massino’s mind raced.
“I’ll call you back. Stick around,” and taking Salvadore’s number, he hung up.
“If he’s got to Havana we’re bitched!” he said, glaring at Andy.
“And he’s got the money!”
“So she says,” Andy said quietly.
Massino stiffened.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I think we should check her story out, Mr. Joe,” Andy said. “You’re right, if he’s heading for Havana and Luigi doesn’t pick him up before he leaves Miami then we kiss him and the money goodbye, but this could be a bluff. Toni’s got nothing between his ears. He’d fall for any story a woman fed him. Let’s check the woman first.”
Massino thought about this, then nodded.
“I’ll talk to Luigi. Got his number?”
“I’ll get it.” Andy went into his office and returned a few minutes later. “He’s on the line now.”
Massino snatched up the receiver.
“Luigi? How are you? Long time no see. What’s that? Yeah… sure is a big steal. Yeah. Listen. How about a little help? This woman…” He looked across at Andy who said, “Freda Scott, Little Creek.”
“Yeah… Freda Scott, lives at Little Creek. Salvadore knows all about her. She says Bianda took off early this morning, heading for Miami and then Havana. She could be lying. I want you to send someone out there and talk to her and when I say talk I mean give her the goddamn works. I want her squeezed dry! Don’t let up until you’re sure she’s telling the truth… get it? If you have to knock her off, knock her off. Will you do this for me, Luigi?”
“Sure, Joe.” Luigi sounded expansive. “I’ve got a couple of bums who’d take real pleasure in a job like that, but it’ll cost. How’s about a grand: guaranteed results?”
“Come on, Luigi… you’re my friend. You wouldn’t rob me, would you?”
“No more than you’d rob me, Joe. A grand and a guarantee.”
“Suppose she’s telling the truth?”
“Well, then you’ll know, won’t you?”
Massino cursed.
“Okay. Just get moving!” and he hung up.
At the other end of the line, Luigi knocked ash off his cigar and grinned to himself. He liked nothing better than easy money and this money couldn’t be easier. The time was 21.15. No point in rushing this. Besides he had to supervise his restaurant. He called Salvadore and told him to send Toni back to the Waterfront it Bar.
When Toni entered Luigi’s office, he found two men propping up the wall while Luigi, at his desk, cigar gripped between
his teeth, was checking the restaurant’s booking.
The two men startled Toni. He was used to tough types but these two seemed to him to have escaped from a zoo. The bigger of the two had the broken face of a boxer, massively built and with a moronic grin, little beady eyes and no ears. They had probably been bitten off in some past brawl, Toni decided. The other was younger, thin, blond with expressionless eyes and a thin mouth and the deadpan expression of a pot smoker.
“Come on in,” Luigi said. “The big one’s Bernie. The other’s Clive. They’re going to talk to your chick. Mr. Joe gets the idea she’s lying so I’m sending the boys to shake the crap out of her.” Luigi looked at Toni and grinned. “How was she as a lay?”
“Okay, Mr. Luigi.”
“Fine. You’re lucky. She won’t be much after these two have worked her over. Just wise up. When’s the best time for a visit?”
“Her husband leaves at five-thirty in the morning. She’s on her own then,” Toni said uneasily.
Luigi looked at the two propping up the wall.
“Suppose you get over there around six? Don’t worry about interrupting her coffee. Mr. Joe’s anxious for news, and don’t worry about her. It’s a big lake.”
The two nodded and went away leaving Toni standing, uneasy and staring at Luigi. Even he, tough as he was, hated the thought of a chick like Freda in the hands of those two apes.
“Okay, Toni,” Luigi said, “go and enjoy yourself. Everything’s on the house. If you want a girl tell the barman. He’ll fix you. Have a ball.”
Toni went to the bar and got drunk.
The sound of the truck starting up woke Johnny. He looked out of the window. There was mist on the lake and he could see the red rim of the sun coming up behind the pines. He looked at his watch. The time was 05.30. He reached for a cigarette and listened to the truck backing out of the parking bay, then go roaring up the dirt road.
The evening had passed with the help of the television. Freda’s pigeon pie had been a success. Scott had congratulated him on his shooting. Johnny had slept badly, continually waking, dozing, then waking again. Nov, a cigarette between his lips, he took stock of his position.
If Massino was convinced by Freda’s story, the heat must cool. But would he be convinced? He (Johnny) would have to stay under cover for at least another four days, then he would have to get to a telephone and call Sammy. He wouldn’t dare show himself in Little Creek. Where else was a telephone? He would have to ask Freda that. If Sammy could assure him the heat was off, then he and Freda would go back to East City, take a chance, collect the money and get out of town. If Massino was sure he was in Havana, he could see no danger in again driving south. Problems! First getting to a telephone and then getting a car. There was no question now of Freda hiring a car from Little Creek. Maybe they would have to walk to New Symara… some walk in this heat!
He threw off the sheet and got out of bed. A cup of coffee would go well with his cigarette.
“Johnny?”
Freda came out of her bedroom. Her blonde hair was mussed, but to Johnny, with the softness of sleep still on her, she looked beautiful.
“Just getting coffee, baby. Want some?”
“Hmmm.”
She went into the bathroom.
As Johnny poured coffee into a saucepan, he thought about her. A whore! So what? Lots of women were whores, trading their bodies not for money but for presents, jewels, furs… whatever they yearned for. She was his woman, he told himself. Who cares about anyone’s past if there is love and Johnny knew he was in love with her. He wasn’t much anyway, but he would be! $186,000 made any man something!
He could feel it was going to be hot and he thought with dismay that from now on there would be no swimming, no fishing. He would have to stay out of sight.
He poured the hot coffee into a cup and as he was about to pour more coffee into a second cup, he heard a car drive up.
Moving swiftly, he put the second cup away, then darted into his bedroom, snatched up his gun, pulled the sheet up over the bed, then darted into Scott’s bedroom, the window of which gave a view onto the jetty.
He saw a dusty Lincoln parked at the foot of the jetty and from it spilled two men: one big, like an ape, the other small, white-faced with staring eyes. They both wore black suits, white shirts and white ties. They stood looking around, then they started across the jetty, taking their time as Johnny moved into the passage.
Freda, still in her shortie nightdress, was standing in the bathroom door.
“Trouble,” Johnny said softly. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it.”
“No! Get out of sight!” Freda whispered fiercely. “I’ll take care of it! Get in the closet and wait!”
She caught hold of his arm and shoved him towards the big closet. For a moment he hesitated, then when a knock sounded on the door, he slid into the closet and shut the door.
Freda ran into her bedroom, snatched up a wrap and struggled into it as the knock came again.
She braced herself, then went to the door and opened it. When she saw Bernie and Clive, she felt a rush of cold blood up her spine. But she kept control of herself.
“What do you want?”
Bernie, smelling of sweat, his moronic grin terrifying, moved forward, forcing her back.
“You, dolly-bird. We want to talk to you about Johnny.”
But it was the other one Freda feared: the little, white-faced horror with his evil, sadistic eyes who followed behind the ape man.
“He’s gone,” she said.
They were now in the living-room and she had retreated to the far wall.
“Tell us about him, dolly-bird. We’re looking for him,” Bernie said.
“He left yesterday.”
“That’s what we heard.” Bernie shuffled forward and snatched off her wrap leaving her in her shortie nightdress. “Yeah, we heard that,” then he slapped her across her face so violently she bounced back against the wall and then sprawled on the floor. He reached down and tore off her nightdress, “but we don’t believe it, dolly-bird. Feed us another story.”
She lay naked at his feet, staring up at him.
“He went to Miami yesterday morning early,” she said, her voice steady. “Get out of here, you apes!”
Bernie sniggered.
“Go ahead, Clive, work on her,” he said. “When you’re tired, I’ll take over.”
In the closet, Johnny listened. He quietly opened the closet door, gun in hand and moved into the passage. He was wearing only pyjama trousers, his feet were bare and he made no sound as he entered the living-room.
Clive had caught hold of Freda and had hauled her to her feet. He was setting himself to slap her as Johnny killed him.
The bang of the gun made Freda scream. She hid her face in her hands and dropped to her knees.
Clive, shot through the back of his head, heaved forward and fell.
Snarling, Bernie, groping for his gun, spun around to face Johnny who shot him through the face. The big man crashed down on top of Clive, his right arm catching Freda on the back of her neck as he fell. She sprawled on her face, then twisted and half sat up, staring at the two dead men, her eyes wide with horror, her mouth open in a soundless scream.
Dropping his gun, Johnny went to her, got her to her feet and half carried her, half dragged her into her bedroom: He laid her gently on the bed.
“Stay here. Don’t think about a thing.”
He ran into his room and struggled into his shirt and trousers. He slid his feet into his shoes, then he returned to the living-room.
Freda lay still, her eyes closed. She struggled with hard, dry, choking sobs. It seemed to her she lay there for a long time. She couldn’t move. The horror of seeing the two men shot dead paralyzed her.
The sun was climbing and it came through the open window, hurting her eyes. She put her arm across her face, moaning.
She lay there, not caring, wanting only to believe this was a horrible nightmare.
Then a
hand touched her gently.
“Let’s go, baby,” Johnny said. “Come on. This is where we duck out.”
She opened her eyes and stared up at him.
“Go… where?”
“We have their car. It’s our chance. We’ve got to go!”
He hauled her off the bed and she leaned against him.
“What’s happened… those men?”
“Forget them. They’re in the lake. Get dressed. We’ve got to hurry… every minute is important.” She stood in a daze, staring at him.
“Come on, baby!” His voice sharpened. “Get dressed! You’ve got to pack! Hurry!”
“You killed them! I can’t go with you! You killed them!”
“You can’t not go with me,” Johnny said. “Get dressed!”
Those words made an impact. She shuddered, then making an effort, she opened her closet and took from it the man’s shirt and the stretch pants. Her closet was pathetically bare: a cheap cotton dress, a pair of worn Levis, a pair of broken-down shoes.
She pulled on her panties and the stretch pants. “You want to take any of this other junk?”
“No.”
“Come on.” He waited until she had put on the shirt and run a comb through her hair, then he led her into the living-room. “You’ve got to write a letter to Ed. Got any writing paper?”
Shaking, she sat at the table.
“In that drawer.”
He found a block of cheap notepaper and an envelope. He found a biro.
“Write this: Dear Ed. I’m sick of it here. I’m going with Johnny. We love each other, Freda.”
Somehow she wrote the note, her hand shaking. Johnny put it in the envelope and laid it on the table.
“Let’s go!”
He picked up his suitcase and, taking her by her arm, he hurried her across the jetty to the Lincoln.
As he started the motor, he looked at his strap watch. The time was o6.4o. At best, he thought, they had a three hour start before Luigi would begin to wonder where the two apes had got to. Then he would investigate, phone, and the organization would swing into action.
In a car like this you could go some way in three hours.
Driving steadily, with Freda still in shock at his side, he headed for the freeway.
Knock, Knock! Who's There? Page 16