Me, Hood!

by Mickey Spillane

  He hated me silently and then put on his blank face again. “To be simple about it, we’d like a progress report.”

  I said, “Nobody told me anything about this junket. I got sent off cold. What do you expect from me?”

  “All right. What do you want to know?”

  “How did you contact Billings?”

  “We didn’t. He came to us. He had something to sell.”

  “Like what?”

  “We don’t know. It was international in scope and big enough to cause a muss in this country. Our people overseas picked up information that there was trouble in high places. It was from there that we found out that Billings was a key figure.”

  “Somebody has quite an organization,” I said.

  “It’s as big as ours.”

  “Go on.”

  “Billings apparently overplayed it. He wanted to sell what he had. We decided to go along. We assigned four men to keep him protected… top men, I might add. They worked in teams of two and both teams were killed. Four good men, Ryan, highly trained, killed like rank amateurs. It was Billings who found the last team. He called and said he was getting out and that was when he told us about you.

  “He got out, all right. He was as cute as you with a trick dodge. He didn’t last very long, though. He caught it that night.”

  “Nothing was in the paper about those boys getting killed.”

  “That was easy enough to fix.”

  “Yeah.” I walked across the room and pulled a cold beer from the cooler. “Tell me… Billings wasn’t dead when he was found. What did he say?”

  I watched their faces. They couldn’t help it, but their eyes touched, briefly.

  “Okay, Ryan, you’re sharp. He wasn’t dead. He said it was Lodo. That’s where we got the name. We have nothing else on it.”

  They didn’t know and I didn’t tell them that another dead man had known Lodo. How many more?

  I said, “One more thing… was any money found on Billings?”

  His voice was a little too flat. “What do you mean?”

  “The police reports say he was clean. It earmarked a robbery.”

  “So?”

  “What happened to the twelve grand?”

  My friend held his mouth tight. “How did you know about that?”

  “I get around.”

  Before he could answer, it came to me. It was all backwards and wrong, but it could make sense to them. I said, “If you’re thinking I sold him something for twelve grand, you’re gone, man. You just loused your picture up. Now I’m reading you R5-S5. You pigs conned me into taking on a kill job with hopes of hanging me. All this while I had in the back of my mind I was doing something that could make you idiots look jerky and because you asked me to at that. In fact, a couple of times I caught myself enjoying doing something straight for a change. Brother, what a sucker I was!

  “So my old buddy Billings tips you to me before he’s found dead with twelve G’s in his pocket. So I’m on the spot. Oh, man, this is crazy. What was I supposed to do… get so shook that I left a hole in my scheme somewhere that I’d try backtracking until I tripped myself up?”

  I let go of the mad slowly, and when I had it down where it belonged, I grinned at them. “Laddies, you’re devious thinkers, but you thunk wrong. I got you by the short hairs now. I’m in and you’re out. I’m going to ride this one for all it’s worth. I’m so far ahead of you right now it’s pathetic and it’ll stay that way. You tell the boss man to get that pile of small bills ready, y’hear?”

  They didn’t answer me.

  “I want one more thing,” I said. “I want a copy of my ‘appointment’ and a number where you guys can be reached sent to me care of General Delivery at 34th Street. I want a license for this gun and the number is 127569. Remember it. Now blow out of here and don’t bother laying a tail on me. It won’t work. If I want you I’ll call and that’s the only progress report you’ll get.”

  You go up 16 floors and you get off in a plush foyer surrounded by antique furniture and a lovely redhead who smiles and you are encompassed by Peter J. Haynes, III. Co., Inc.

  She looked up at me, button by button until she came to my eyes, then she stopped and smiled a little bit bigger. To her I was something different than the usual Haynes client even though mine was a $200 suit. The shirt was white and the collar spread. The tie was black knitted and neat and the cuffs that showed were the proper half inch below the coat cuff. The links were plain, but gold, and they showed. The only thing out of place was my face. I don’t think I looked like the typical Haynes client. I wasn’t carrying a briefcase, either. I was carrying a rod, but that was one reason for the $200 suit. It didn’t show.

  The redhead said, “Good morning.”

  I said, “Hello, honey.”

  She said, “Can I help you?”

  I said, “Anytime.”

  She said, “Please…”

  I said, “I should be the one to say please.”

  She said, “Stop it!”

  I said, “What’ll you give me if I do?”

  Then she smiled and said, “You’re crazy.”

  I smiled back, “Is Carmen Smith here?”

  “It would have to be her,” she said. “Yes, she’s here. Is she expecting you?”

  “No.”

  “Then you can’t see her.”

  “Who’s going to keep me out?” I said.

  She got the grin back. “Nobody around here, I guess. Miss Smith is down the hall, at the end. She’ll be mad.”

  “Tough.”

  She went down the buttons again in reverse. “I hope so. Stop by to say so-long.”

  I grinned at her. “I will, don’t worry.”

  Miss Smith was encompassed by two girl secretaries and a queer. She was behind a desk talking into a hush-a-phone, doodling on an early Times edition. When I walked in, I waved a thumb at the dolls and they got out. The queer took longer until he looked straight at me. Miss Smith said something into the HP and hung up. Then she pushed back her chair and stood up.

  Most times a woman is nothing. Sometimes you can classify them as pretty or not pretty. Sometimes you can say this one I like or this one I do not like.

  Then one day you see one who is totally unlike all the rest and this is one you not only like but one you must have. This is one who has been waiting a long time for somebody and instinctively you know that until now she hasn’t found that one. She’s big and beautiful and stands square-shouldered like a man, but she’s full-breasted and taut and completely undressed beneath the sheath she has on. She’s not trying for anything. She doesn’t have to. You don’t have to look to know she’s long-legged and round and in her loins there’s a subtle fire that can be fanned, and fanned, and fanned.

  I said the obvious. “Miss Smith?”

  “Yes.”

  “My name is Ryan.”

  “I have no morning appointments.”

  “Now you have, kitten.”

  I let her take a good look at me. It didn’t take long. She knew. I wasn’t taking any apple out of her hand.

  “Can I help you?”

  “Sure, honey. That you can do.”

  “Well.”

  “A flower shop… the Lazy Dazy… in Brooklyn, tells me you sent a bouquet to a friend of mine.”

  It would be hard to describe the brief play that went across her face.

  “Billings,” I said. “He was killed. He got one bunch of flowers. Yours.”

  Again, it happened, that sympathetic sweep of emotions touching her eyes and her mouth. She sat down at an angle, woman-like, with her knees touching, and her hand on the desk shook a little.

  “You… are a friend?”

  “Not of his. Were you?”

  Her eyes filled up and she made a motion with her head before reaching for the tissues in her drawer. “I’m sorry. I can never quite get used to people dying whom I know.”

  “Don’t let it get you, sugar. He wasn’t worth it.”

  �
�I know, but he was still someone I was familiar with. May I ask who you are?”

  “The name is Ryan, honey. In common parlance I’m a hood. Not a big one, but I get along.”

  There was a silent appeal in her eyes. “I don’t… quite…”

  “Where do you come off knowing a bummer like Billings?”

  “Why should I tell you?”

  “Because if I don’t get the answer, the cops will.”

  She sucked in her breath, filling the tanned skin of her bosom, swelling it against the dress.

  I said, “How well did you know Billings?”

  “Tell me something first. Since you seem so interested in me, have you… let’s say… investigated me in any way?”

  “Nope.”

  “Mr. Ryan… I’m a gambler.”

  “A good one?”

  “One of the best. My father was a professional. According to his need or current morals, he would work it right or wrong. No better card mechanic ever lived. He supported me in style.”

  “You…?”

  “Mother died at my birth. My father never married again. He gave me everything including an education in mechanics to the point where I can clean a table any time I want to.”

  “This doesn’t explain Billings.”

  “I’m a card player, Mr. Ryan. I’m in on all the big games that ever happen in this city. I win more than I could possibly make at a mundane job from fat little men who love to show off before a woman. If you’re really a hood, then ask around the slap circuit who I am. I’m sure they’ll be able to tell you.”

  “I don’t have to ask. But that still doesn’t explain Billings.”

  “Billings was a queer draw. He was a good mechanic at times, but not good enough to work against the big ones. Straight, he was all right. One day he sat in with us and I caught him working and cut him loose. He never did figure it until I got him invited again. You see, Mr. Ryan, these types are fun for me. I was able to chop him down to nothing just for the fun of it.”

  “How much did you take him for?”

  “Just for hundreds. He had money, but we were playing for cards, understand? Money isn’t quite that important.”

  “He was good?”

  “Very. But just not that good.”

  “When did you see him last?”

  She didn’t hesitate. “Three days before he was killed.”

  “This you can prove?”

  When she had her composure back, she said simply. “I should never have sent him flowers.”

  “That wasn’t the bit, kid.”

  “No? What was then?”

  “You’re a big gal. A VP of a promising industry. You make fifteen hundred a week in your job and while the boss is away you’re head doll here. You have a penthouse on Madison Avenue and charge accounts in the best stores. So you like to gamble. You like to play cards. This wasn’t hard to find out at all.”

  “I thought you hadn’t investigated me.”

  “I didn’t. I picked it all up from one talkative building attendant.”

  “Then why are you considering me suspect, Mr. Ryan?” the tears were there.

  “You sent him a five-dollar bouquet, kid.”

  And she didn’t hesitate this time, either. “He was a five-dollar card player, Mr. Ryan.”

  “And you’re sentimental?”

  “No, but it was a gesture to the cheap dead.”

  “The gesture could be vindictive.”

  “When you’re dead it doesn’t matter. It was a gesture. Now I’m sorry for it.”

  “I don’t like it, baby,” I told her softly.

  When she looked up, the VP was gone and I could have been looking at her across a table somewhere. She was all woman and coldly wild, with full-house eyes ready to sweat me out. It only lasted a second, but while it did I knew there was no bluff.

  She said, “My father was well known at Monte Carlo. He was even better known at Vegas. His name wasn’t Smith. One day he was shot by a crazy little man who lost his own roll with his own marked cards.”

  “What happened to the crazy little man?”

  “The nine-year-old daughter of the dead man blew his head off with a shotgun from ten feet away.”

  I said quietly, “You?”

  “Me.”

  “You sent him a five dollar bouquet too?”

  “No.” Her smile was clean and straight across. “The girl daddy was living with did, though.”

  “I like the gesture,” I said coldly.

  “I think it was fitting.” Her tone matched mine.

  “Now?”

  “Something has come up as regards Mr. Billings. He was killed and now you’re here. Not the police. Just you. Why?”

  I said, “Billings left me to the dogs for ten grand one time. I think he did it again. I’m a little anxious to find out who’s involved in this play.”

  “You think I might be one?”

  “I don’t know, but baby… I’m going to find out real soon.”

  “I’m not sorry he’s dead,” she said. “To me it doesn’t matter one way or another. In a way, perhaps, I’m glad, nevertheless, I don’t care. How you fit into this is no concern of mine. Is there anything else?”

  I grinned and stood up and leaned over her desk. I said, “Yeah, kid, one thing more. Like you’ve been told a million times, you’re an interesting wench. I wish you weren’t out of it. From now on it’s all going to be real dull.”

  Until now she hadn’t smiled. When she did it was with a wet mouth and white teeth that made something happen no matter how early it was. She was hazel eyes, and suddenly chestnut hair, then even more quickly something slippery your hands should try to hold but couldn’t.

  She was big. Not as big as me, but big. When she uncurled and faced me she said, “No… I’ll have to change it for you. Nobody ever called me that before.”

  “What before?”

  “Merely interesting.”

  “My apologies.”

  “Not accepted here, Mr. Ryan.” She looked at her watch, then smiled across at me. “It’s almost noon. I’ll let you apologize at lunch.”

  “It’s getting cute again, kid.”

  Her smile had a question in it, then she understood what I meant. She laughed outright this time. “Let me put it this way, Mr. Ryan… there is a reason I want to be with you a little longer. You see, I’ve known many men… but I never had lunch with a real hood before. Shall we go?”

  I took her to Pat Shane’s for lunch. We ate on the dark side, in a back booth away from big ears and cigar smoke. By the time the steaks were gone, there was little I didn’t know about Carmen Smith.

  She reached across the table and laid her hand on top of mine. “Ryan… do you think you’ll ever find out who killed Billings?”

  I turned my hand over and held hers. “I’ll find them.”

  “Is it… dangerous?”

  That got a short laugh from me. “It’s not exactly a soft touch. A couple of guys already died.”

  “A couple?”

  “Just a detail. A little guy named Juan Gonzales. Ever hear of him?”

  “No… it isn’t familiar.”

  A second thought occurred to me. “Look, Carmen… When Billings was around you… was he ever scared?”

  “The last time he was… well, nervous. He played pretty badly.”

  “Were the stakes big?”

  “Very petty that time. We all kidded him about it. He didn’t say anything.”

  “Tell me… did he ever mention the name Lodo to you at all?”

  “Lodo?” She paused, then shook her head. “No, not Billings. But I’ve heard it somewhere. Who is he?”

  “I don’t know… yet. I’ll find out, though.”

  This time she took my hand in both of hers. “Please be careful, Ryan.”

  “Sure, but why, kitten?”

  “I might want to have lunch with a big hood again.” She took her hand away with a smile, looked at her watch and reached for her pocketbook
. “Time to leave. I’ll make a quick visit first.”

  “Go ahead. I’ll meet you up front.”

  Eddie Mack and Fats Sebull, a pair of guys I know, were talking to Pat and saw me coming. Fats said, “Pretty company you got.”

  “Great. She okay, Fats?”

  “We had her checked. She’s okay. One hell of a card player, though.”

  “That’s what I hear.”

  Eddie Mack asked me, “How’d you meet her?”

  “Checking on Billings.”

  He snorted. “Him. He won’t be missed.” He stopped, looked at me with a frown. “You knew him?”

  “I wanted to kill him, buddy. I got beat out.”

  He glanced around him nervously and licked his lips. “Say, Ryan… you got any idea who tapped him?”

  “An idea. A guy named Lodo. You ever hear of him?”

  It was Pat’s face that rang the bell. His eyes had a funny look and something had happened to the set of his mouth.

  I said, “Pat?”

  He motioned with his hand to keep it quiet. “Man, that’s a trouble name.”

  “You know him?”

  “I don’t want to, kid, but a couple days ago two scared union representatives were in here and one made a phone call from the booths in back when I was in the office. He didn’t know I was there, but I could hear him. When I bothered to listen, he was saying that there were some marked boys around and that Lodo had showed up. Apparently he had picked it up accidentally and he told the other guy he was clearing out.”

  “That was all?”

  “Enough for me, friend. Any bumping I don’t want done on the premises. I don’t even want people around who know about them things. I’ve had all that crap I want.”

  “Don’t get so shook, Patsy boy.”

  “Look, Ryan, if you’re in this, then keep it someplace else.”

  I grinned and nodded.

  Behind them Carmen was walking toward me and everybody in the place was watching her. She said, “Hello, Fats… Eddie. You know Ryan?”

  Fats said, “We’ve met.”

  I nodded to them and walked out with her. We got into a cab.

  “Taking me to be verified by Fats and Eddie was smart. Are you satisfied?”

  I looked at her and grinned. “Not satisfied at all, kitten.”

  Her smile came back fast. She reached over with her hand and pulled my head toward hers and suddenly there was a fire on my mouth that was alive and wet and a little shocking.