Ernie caught my arm. “Good Lord, Mike.”
I walked out.
I crossed Halsey Street to the diner and went in to the telephone booth. I dialed Luxtro’s unlisted number at the Club Ubangi.
Orzatti answered. When I told him who I was, he said, “Where the hell have you been? The boss wants to see you.”
Then Luxtro came on. “Hello, Ballard. I’ve been trying to get in touch with you.”
“Yeah. I know. I also know you haven’t called off the coyotes. Maybe you’re getting old, Luxtro. Maybe you don’t hear good. I said call that pompous old goat off my back.”
“Now you listen to me. I’m doing what I can. Something has fouled, and bad. If you want to live to get as old as I am even, you better get your tail over here.”
I got in the Olds and started across town to the Club Ubangi. I hadn’t gone far when I started thinking about Peggy. I knew what I needed.
I stopped outside her place, climbed the back stairs with people watching from chairs and windows.
I knocked and Peggy opened the door. She had been home only long enough to change into a house frock. Another bargain-basement special. I could smell her hair, and there was some kind of charge in that room just because we were in it together.
She told me to come in. I tossed my hat on the divan and looked at her. She was ill at ease, not seeming to know what to do with her hands.
“I haven’t much to report,” I said. I told her about Lois Gonzales, and about the way I’d looked for Tino Gonsmart, about the three guys who had stood in the line outside Ruby Venuto’s apartment.
Peggy’s eyes filled with tears. “It might have been any one of them. Just as that man Mellon said. They might have got him. He would have had no more chance than poor Earl.”
“Just a minute,” I said. “Don’t forget one thing. Earl was found wandering around that neighborhood. He was suffering from something. It could have been shock. That’s what they believed it was. And at least Mellon was not found in the neighborhood.”
Tears spilled from her eyes. I crossed to her, taking two long steps. I caught her against me.
She pressed her face against my shirt, digging her head hard against my chest. She cried, loudly and terribly.
Her hands caught the sides of my coat, twisting, pulling herself closer.
I heard her sobbing, I felt her tears scald through my shirt. But all I could smell was the scent of her hair, like something bittersweet and long remembered. The whole room spun like something dizzy.
Her crying was for another man. Her tears, and everything about her, belonged to him. Against that was the need that raged through me. From the ache across the bridge of my nose to the backs of my legs, I wanted her.
My hands went around her. I tried through the seething haze that blinded me to remember to be gentle, the friend of the family, the man who had come to help. My hands moved, and the world wheeled.
I heard her voice. “Oh, no. Oh God, no!”
It was as though she were a million miles away from me, yelling across a chasm.
I felt her twisting in my arms. The room stopped skidding and whirling and then she’d pulled away. The pins were out of her hair, her hair toppled loose about her shoulders. Her dress was parted across the front and she spilled out of it, like something full and bursting.
She stepped back, pushing the hair from her face. Her breathing was raging even faster than mine. She stared at me, her eyes distended.
“Oh, no,” she whispered. “We can’t. My God, Mike. We can’t do that.”
There was no hatred in her voice, no fear; there was the same pushing need that was driving me insane.
I didn’t speak. I wasn’t even sure what I could say yet.
She touched my hand, her fingers trembling and like ice. “He’s up in the death house, Mike. We don’t have the right.”
I tried to laugh. “You’ll get a nasty letter from my lawyer in the morning.”
She bit her lip, smiling. “I should have stayed away from you, Mike. It’s my fault. I—was feeling sorry for myself. Don’t be mad at me.”
“Why would I be mad at you?”
“For going so crazy—for letting you do the things you did.” She straightened the front of her dress. “I know how horrible it is—to let you start and then stop you.”
“Do you have to stop me?” I was still keeping my voice light, but it sounded odd in my own ears.
“I have to stop myself, Mike.” She shook her head. “Will it make you feel any better to know—I’ve thought about it. I’ve thought about what it would be like—with you.”
I breathed in deeply. “Is that why you’re fighting?”
“Please, Mike. Don’t tease. I’m not fighting. It’s just that—I’m not teasing, Mike. I don’t do anything just—for fun.”
“I know,” I said. It was true. I did know. It made me breathless knowing. “I envy Earl—even where he is.”
“You shouldn’t,” she said. Her voice was very low.
I had to ram my hands in my pockets. “What does that mean?”
She looked beyond me, breathing oddly, seeing something I couldn’t know about. She shook her head. “Just don’t,” she said. “You shouldn’t ever envy anybody, Mike.”
I looked at her and knew I had to get out of there or have her. It was now at the place where I couldn’t be civilized about it.
I got my hat. She leaned against the wall beside the door, eyes closed, tooth sunk into her underlip. Her hair was still loose, and the smell of it was the only scent in the room, in the world. I said good night, but she did not answer. She was still leaning there against the wall when I closed the door behind me, closed it hard so I heard the lock slap into place.
Chapter Thirteen
After I left Peggy I walked into the nearest bar. I ordered rye straight and drank it off before the bartender could turn his back. “Fill it up,” I said.
He looked at me. Maybe he could tell I was having a bad time. The way I was churned up and drawn taut inside, I couldn’t think straight. I kept telling myself I was a fool. I could go back up there. Ten to one she’d still be standing against that wall, waiting.
And if I went back? I might have what I wanted. I knew I would. But she would be weeping about Earl. That was what I didn’t want. I didn’t want any other man in her mind when I had her, not even if she were pitying him. There wasn’t going to be room for anybody else.
I drank the second rye, making three sips out of it. I did it purposely, staring at the whisky labels. I thought about Luxtro. I thought about his voice when he told me to get over there. I remembered poor Ernie Gault, worried and sick about what was going to happen. I thought about all that, and still my mind kept pulling back to Peggy and the way she’d looked when I started tearing those clothes off her.
I looked around the bar. There should have been a woman there, any woman. If you can’t get a woman, get a clean old man. I was in a hell of a shape.
I got up, dropped some money on the bar and walked out of there. I started the Olds, telling myself to get over to Luxtro. I didn’t want to see Luxtro. He wasn’t my type.
I looked at my hands on that damned steering wheel. I’m not lying, they were trembling. Sure, at thirty-five I’d wanted some other women, and had some others, maybe no more, no less than any other character my age. I didn’t know. I never read Dr. Kinsey. I never cared. I had my own woes.
I glanced over my shoulder as though I could see a light in her apartment. I couldn’t even see her building. I don’t know what I expected, maybe sky-writing, semaphore, or maybe smoke rising from the roof of her house.
I put the Olds in gear and got out of there.
I rang the doorbell at Hilma’s a dozen times. I stood there hating myself, and not knowing why. I’d come running up here plenty just because I needed her. My conscience went on needling me. I never even knew I had a conscience. Something had been happening to me ever since I looked at Peggy Walker. Damn Peggy Walker. I had
to get her out of my mind. I jabbed the bell again.
I took the key to Hilma’s apartment and opened her door. It occurred to me that one day it was going to be fine when I tried that key and it didn’t fit the lock.
I stepped inside, closed the door, snapped on the light.
Hilma’s apartment looked neat, as always. She spent a lot of time keeping it clean. She deserved better than me. I cursed again. What was the matter with me?
There was a note addressed to Mike. It was propped against the telephone.” I picked it up, thumbed open the envelope, read it.
Dear Mike, Darling,
If you happen to come over and find this note, sweetheart, don’t be angry, honey. I know you won’t come. I know I’ll find this note right where I left it. But if you do happen to come over, please wait for me, and forgive me and don’t go away mad. I love you. But I always love you. I got lonely. Donald called and asked me to a movie. It’s a Western. Donald loves Westerns. I’ll hurry back. If you wait you won’t be sorry. All my love, Me.
I read the note a couple of times, then I refolded it, put it back in the envelope, set it against the telephone exactly as I’d found it.
Then I turned off the light and got out of there. Ballard, I thought, you’re a real son of a bitch.
The Ubangi Club was jumping when I got there, in a respectable, soft-pedaled way, of course. One thing Luxtro demanded was the look of respectability.
I felt myself tightening up. The doorman nodded, looking scared. He tried to tell me Mr. Luxtro was looking for me, but I brushed past him.
Tom Biggs looked over the heads of the people at the bar and nodded toward the rear. Tom looked worried.
In the rear corridor, dancers in strips of gauze stepped out of the way for me. Waiters, musicians and busboys stumbled over each other making a path for me.
Two hoods stood outside Luxtro’s door. They gave me the fish eye, their looks wanting to know how long I thought I’d stay healthy keeping the boss waiting.
Luxtro, his lawyer, and two more apes were draped about his large office, making the place seem crowded. The two boys followed me in, leaned against the door.
One of the muscle men lounging on the leather divan said, “Here he is. Where you been, you stupid son of a bitch?”
Luxtro’s face was white and he chewed an unlit cigar. He kept flexing his hand on top of his desk. “It’s all right,” he said. “I’ll handle this.”
I moved into the room, close to the desk.
“I sent for you.” Luxtro’s voice was so soft I barely heard him.
“I sent for you two hours ago. I been looking for you all day.”
“I was busy.”
Luxtro just held on to the desk for a few minutes. He did not speak. I don’t think any of his boys even breathed.
“Maybe you didn’t hear me, Ballard. I said I sent for you two hours ago.”
“You’re wasting time now. What do you want?”
Luxtro shook his head. “I don’t know,” he said. “By God, I don’t know. I’ve been paying you for a long time, Ballard. What have I been paying you for?”
“You paid me, and you got what you paid for.”
“I don’t know. I want a man I can depend on. I think maybe it’s time you learned who you’re working for, Ballard.”
The two boys on the couch stood up. The mugs at the door stepped forward.
“Sure,” I said. I looked at the two standing at the couch. I turned, moving backward away from the desk so I stood beside the lawyer’s club chair, my back to the wall. “That sounds fine, Luxtro. How do I learn?”
“We got ways to teach you, Ballard. Ways you won’t forget.”
I could see the four of his tribe from where I stood. They were tense, standing on the balls of their feet, waiting.
“All right,” I said. “I’m ready to learn.” I looked at the boys, poised and waiting. “Which one of you bastards wants to be first?”
For what seemed a long time, nothing happened. I stood with my legs apart, waiting, thinking what a mess we were going to make of this respectable office.
The hoods were big men and they were tense, waiting, drawn on taut springs.
But they did not move. And I realized what was the matter. Luxtro didn’t have me in line yet, but these boys were trained. You never saw a canine corps better leashed.
They were waiting for the word from Luxtro.
There was nothing personal in what they were going to do to me, it was going to be smooth and professional.
All they needed was the word from Luxtro.
Chapter Fourteen
I glanced toward Luxtro. It was easy to see he was ready to speak that word. He was full of anger and sick with it. He wanted to hear me say sir to him, and he didn’t care if I spoke through blood. But he had learned a lot since he scrambled up out of his own private sewer. When a man gives in to his own anger, he’s very likely the one to get hurt. And there was more. Unless they shot me, he knew there was going to be a riot in this room behind his respectable night club. And if they shot me, there was going to be a body to dispose of. Another body. There was too much heat on for that.
The wheels turned under that brush-cut of Luxtro’s. If he let me get away with this, he was sure he’d have trouble with me from that moment on. Besides, he had come from the alleys; he hated to pass up a chance to see blood spilled, somebody else’s blood.
“All right, you guys, sit down.” His voice was hoarse and hurt him almost as much as the words he was speaking. “We can handle this thing better than that.”
His lawyer spoke then, his voice low. “I think you’re being wise, Alex.”
Luxtro’s eyes flinched, he swallowed hard. “I don’t give a damn what you think, George.” He raised his eyes to mine. “Let’s put it this way, Ballard. You’re on my list. Just step out of line—just one bit—and I’ll show you what I mean.”
He sat down at his desk and flicked his cigarette lighter. He touched the flame to his cigar.
George Collins spoke. He was thick-set, of medium height, with an oversized square head. His nose was heavy in his mottled face. A twisted left brow gave him a habitual sneer. He wore expensive clothes and was an able attorney.
He looked along his nose at me. “You’re surely not unaware of the seriousness of what’s going on in this town?”
“No. I’m not. The last time I was in here, I told Luxtro to call Commissioner Mitchell off my tail.”
Collins scowled. “Mister Luxtro called this matter to my attention. We spoke to Commissioner Mitchell. Both of us.”
“All right. That should take care of it.”
Luxtro exhaled a cloud of smoke and Collins looked amused. “Should it? Ballard, you’ve a wrong idea of your importance. My client and I are willing to offer you every reasonable aid.”
“Cut the double talk. If Mitchell weren’t getting a cut from Luxtro, Luxtro couldn’t operate those gambling rooms upstairs and those call girls at the Essex longer than twenty minutes.”
Collins leaned forward. “You’re making several mistakes, Ballard. Mr. Luxtro has given various gifts and sums of money. You’ve been valuable in the past. But how valuable you are at the moment is a matter of grave doubt.”
I stared at him. “Mitchell wouldn’t call off?”
Collins sighed. “Commissioner Mitchell didn’t offer us any satisfaction. As a matter of fact, he gave us a chilled denial that there is even an investigation of your official conduct going on.”
I laughed. “Well, there is.”
Luxtro said, “We know darned well there is.”
Collins nodded. “That’s right. We’re fully cognizant of the investigation. That’s why we are warning you to keep your nose clean in the next few weeks, and stop stirring up trouble.”
“Wait a minute. Stirring up trouble? I haven’t stirred up any trouble.”
Luxtro jumped up and came around his desk. He smashed his cigar out on an ashtray. “There are all sorts of ways to stir up
trouble.”
“I tell you I haven’t done anything.”
Luxtro scrubbed his hand along his jaw. “Ballard, we know better than that. We know you’ve spent all this week asking questions around town about a guy named Earl Walker.”
I felt exactly as though Luxtro had hit me in the face. I got an ache across the bridge of my nose. I could smell blood in my nostrils. Nobody had touched me, but I wanted suddenly to sit down.
“Earl Walker?” I sounded like a parrot, a not very bright parrot.
“Earl Walker and Ruby Venuto. Been putting in an eight-hour day, like some damned eager cop, asking about Ruby.” Luxtro’s fists clenched. “I want that stopped, Ballard. Now. As of now.”
I looked around again for a place to sit down. There was nowhere. The world was unsteady and my legs were tired as though I’d walked eight miles through snowdrifts.
I felt numb. I said, “Why?”
I didn’t even expect an answer.
Luxtro’s voice shook, hoarser than ever, softer than ever. “I’ll tell you why. Because you think you’re pretty damned smart, getting away with what you have. You see these four men of mine? I think any one of them could take you, but I want you too bad for that. It’s been a long time, Ballard, since I wanted anybody like I want you.”
He leaned back against his desk, his eyes flat, staring at me. “Six-feet-three. Is that about right, Ballard? A hundred and ninety pounds. The boys say you got corded muscles when you workout at the police gym. They say you’re fast on your feet.” He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth, as though something tasted bad. “Two-hundred-dollar suits, brand new hardtop convertible. Oh, you been riding high, Ballard. You been asking for it. Now the cops are getting ready to give it to you. Do you understand that?”
I nodded.
Collins’s voice was low. “My client has a position in this community—church member, owner of this establishment, children in the best schools. We are here to tell you, Ballard, we’re not going to let his reputation be jeopardized by some crooked cop that got too big for his job. That should be clear enough.”
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