Conrad went to the door.
“Madge, will you phone down to the D.A. and tell him Gollowitz can come up?”
Madge stared at him, her eyes alarmed.
“Gollowitz? You’re not letting . . .?”
“Will you please do as I tell you!” Conrad snapped. He turned back to Frances. “There’s a lawyer downstairs asking for you. He has a writ for your release. We can’t hold you against the writ, but if you refuse to go with him, he can’t make you. It’s up to you.”
Frances met his eyes defiantly.
“I shall certainly go with him!”
Conrad walked up to her.
“Listen, you little fool! Why do you imagine a lawyer should go to the trouble of taking out a writ for you? He’s Maurer’s lawyer! That’s why.”
“How do I know Bunty Lloyd hasn’t sent him?” she demanded. “You want me to stay here, don’t you? I don’t believe anything you’re saying!”
A tap came on the door and Madge looked in.
“Mr. Gollowitz.”
Gollowitz came in, a smooth smile on his dark face.
“Miss Coleman?”
Frances faced him, her eyes searching his face.
“Yes.”
“I’m a lawyer, and I represent the Norgate Union. The secretary of the union called me and told me you were detained here. The District Attorney tells me he has no reason to hold you any longer. Are you willing to come with me?”
Frances hesitated for a moment. There was something about Gollowitz that made her nervous.
“I don’t want to go with you, thank you,” she said. “I just want to go home.”
Gollowitz chuckled.
“Of course. I simply meant that I would escort you as far as the entrance. If you would communicate with the secretary of your union and tell him I have arranged for your release I should be obliged.”
Conrad moved quietly to the door and beckoned to Madge.
“Tell Van to bring Weiner in here,” he whispered.
As he turned back he heard Frances say, “Can I leave here at once?”
“Of course,” Gollowitz said.
“Just a moment,” Conrad broke in. “While you’re here, Mr. Gollowitz, you might be interested to go bail for another of our customers. Come in, Weiner.”
Van Roche threw open the door and gave Pete a hard shove so he entered the room with an unbalanced rush. When he saw Gollowitz, he jumped back as if he had seen a snake.
Gollowitz had been too busy getting the writ for Frances’s release to find out what had happened to Pete. Seigel had assured him he would get Pete, and seeing Pete so unexpectedly completely threw him off balance. His fat face turned livid, and he took a step towards Pete, his lips drawn off his teeth in a snarl of fury.
“Leave me alone!” Pete exclaimed, and backed away.
Too late, Gollowitz realized he had given himself away. He twisted his face into a forced bland smile, but he saw the look of horror on Frances’s face.
“Don’t you want to take Weiner along with you as well as Miss Coleman?” Conrad asked quietly. “I doubt if he’ll come, but at least you can ask him.”
His eyes glittering with rage, Gollowitz turned to Frances.
“Come along, Miss Coleman. I’ll get you a cab.”
“Don’t go with him!” Pete shouted. “He belongs to the organization. Stay here where you are safe! Don’t go with him!”
Gollowitz put out his hand and laid it gently on Frances’s arm.
“I don’t know who this fellow is, but he sounds crazy to me,” he said. “Let’s go, Miss Coleman.”
Frances shuddered and jumped back.
“No! I’m going to stay here. I don’t want to go with you. I won’t go with you!”
“I’m afraid you are being rather a foolish young woman, Miss Coleman,” Gollowitz said. The silent threat in those black eyes turned Frances cold. “Are you coming with me or aren’t you?”
“Oh, tell him to go!” Frances cried, and sat down on the couch, hiding her face in her hands. “Please tell him to go!”
Gollowitz looked at Pete, then he walked quietly from the room.
No one moved as he crossed the outer room. They watched him open the door, step into the passage and close the door behind him.
He left behind him an atmosphere charged with threatening danger.
III
“Janey!”
Conrad stood in the small hall and waited for her reply. She wasn’t in any of the downstairs rooms, and he had an idea she might be out. Two or three times lately she had been out when he had returned from the office. During the past three days their relationship had worsened. She didn’t tell him where she went and he didn’t ask.
“Is that you?” Janey called from upstairs.
A little surprised to find her in, Conrad ran up the stairs and pushed open the bedroom door.
Janey was sitting in front of her dressing table. Clad only in a brassiere and a pair of frilly panties, she was engaged in rolling up one slim leg a black nylon stocking.
“You’re early, aren’t you?” she asked, without looking up. “It isn’t half-past six yet.”
He pushed the door shut and wandered over to the window. It no longer gave him any pleasure as it used to do to see her like this.
“I have to go away for a few days, Janey. I’m leaving right now.”
Janey gave his broad back a sharp glance as she fixed the suspender grip to the top of her stocking.
“Oh. I suppose I’m not included. Where are you going?”
She reached for the other stocking, her mind suddenly busy. A few days. What exactly did that mean? A week – ten days? She felt a sudden hot flush sweep over her body. Would it be safe to ask Louis to come here? she wondered.
“I have charge of two important witnesses,” Conrad said, turning to look at her. “They have to be kept under cover until the trial. The D.A. wants me to look after them.”
She adjusted the seams of her stockings and stood up.
“What on earth for? Since when have you become a nursemaid to witnesses?”
“It just happens they are important and in danger,” Conrad said shortly. “I’ll be away until Thursday. I’m sorry, Janey, but there it is.”
She went over to the wardrobe and took out a wrap.
“All right, if you’ve got to go, you’ve got to go,” she said indifferently. “It won’t make much difference to me. It’s not as if I see all that much of you. Where are you going?”
“I’ll write the address down,” Conrad said, taking out his billfold and finding an old envelope. “It’s out near Butcher’s Wood. And listen, Janey, this is important, no one but you may know where I’ve gone. Don’t tell anyone, do you understand?”
“Who am I going to tell, do you imagine?” Janey said scornfully, slipping into her wrap. “You talk as if I’m surrounded by people instead of being left alone night after night in this dreary house.”
“There’s no need to talk nonsense,” Conrad said curtly. “You have dozens of friends, and you know it. It’s just that you’re not interested to entertain people at home. You prefer to be taken out.”
“Who the hell wants to cook and wash up when one can go out?” Janey snapped.
Conrad put the envelope in a small drawer in the dressing table.
“I’d better throw some things in a bag,” he said, sidetracking the way to an inevitable row.
“And who are these precious witnesses you have to take care of?” Janey asked, sitting down before the dressing table again. “A woman – I bet.”
“Never mind who they are,” Conrad said shortly. He began hurriedly to pack a bag. “I’d better leave you some money.” He put a few bills on the mantelpiece.
“That should hold you until Thursday.”
It would be too risky to ask Louis to come here, Janey decided as she made up her lips. Too many prying neighbours, but she could go to his place. Again she felt a hot flush run over her. He had been like an anima
l, she thought. His lovemaking had been brutal, selfish and insatiable. He had left her bruised and gasping but with an overwhelming desire to be caught up again in his hard, muscular arms.
“I must get along,” Conrad said, shutting the bag. “Why don’t you get Beth to spend a few days with you? I don’t like leaving you entirely alone here.”
Janey smiled mysteriously.
“Your remorse is very touching, darling. Considering you leave me here alone fifteen hours a day, a few more hours won’t hurt me.”
“For goodness sake, Janey! Don’t go on and on. You know I have to work late hours,” Conrad said impatiently.
“Then it will be a nice change for you to sit beside some woman and hold her hand in Butcher’s Wood, won’t it?”
Conrad looked at her in disgust.
“Well, so long, Janey.”
“So long,” she said, and turned back to the mirror.
She didn’t move until she heard the front door slam, then she jumped to her feet and ran over to the window. She watched Conrad drive away, then she stood for a long minute, her arms across her breasts and her eyes closed, savouring a sense of freedom.
She had four days and three nights alone! She didn’t intend to waste such a gift.
She ran across the room, down the stairs to the telephone. As she dialled the number of the Paradise Club she was aware that her heart was beating wildly and her breath was coming in quick, uneven gasps. She reached for a cigarette, lit it and tried to control her breathing.
“Mr. Seigel, please?” she said, as a woman’s voice came over the line.
“Who’s calling?”
“Mr. Seigel is expecting me. Put me through, please!” Janey said sharply. She had no intention of advertising her name to a receptionist.
“Hold a moment.”
After a long pause Seigel snapped, “Who is it?”
He sounded curt and angry.
“Louis? Janey here.”
“Oh – hello: what do you want?”
The casual indifference in his voice sent a stab into Janey’s heart.
“You don’t sound very pleased to hear my voice,” she said plaintively.
“I’m busy. What’s on your mind?”
“He’s gone away for two or three days,” Janey said. “I’m on my own. I thought you would be interested.”
There was a long pause. She could almost hear Seigel thinking.
“That’s fine,” he said suddenly, but his voice still remained curt. “Well, come on over.”
“You mean to the club?”
“Sure. Come on over. I’ll buy you a dinner.”
“I don’t know if I should come to the club. Couldn’t I go to your place, Louis?”
“Come to the club,” he said irritably. “See you around nine. I can’t get free before nine. So long for now,” and he hung up.
Janey slowly replaced the receiver. He wasn’t treating her as she had hoped he would treat her, but she didn’t care. She didn’t even care that he must know she was throwing herself at him. His brutal rudeness fascinated her. All she wanted was to be caught up in his arms, to be treated like a woman of the streets, to be bruised and to be left gasping. That was an experience she had never known before: an experience she must have.
IV
Seigel walked along the passage to his office, a heavy scowl on his face. For the past three days, he had been waiting for McCann to warn him a warrant had been sworn out for his arrest. The fact McCann hadn’t telephoned made him jittery and bad-tempered. He was worried, too, that Gollowitz had taken the whole affair out of his hands. It was not as if Gollowitz had anything to brag about. He said he would take care of the girl – and what had happened? Nothing! Not a damn thing!
The D.A. had the girl and he had Weiner. Those two must be talking their heads off by now. If he had his way he would be in New York by now, but Gollowitz had told him to stay where he was.
“There’s nothing to worry about yet,” Gollowitz had said. “McCann is covering you at his end. When Forest decides to make a move, then it’ll be time for you to skip, and not before.”
Seigel turned the handle of his office door and pushed the door open. He came to an abrupt standstill when he saw Gollowitz sitting behind his desk.
“What are you doing here?” Seigel demanded, coming in and shutting the door.
“I’m waiting,” Gollowitz said quietly.
The past three days had left their mark on him. His fat face sagged and there were grey-blue bags under his eyes. He had realized the danger the organization was in, and his shrewd brain had worked ceaselessly for a legal way out, but there was no legal way out. There was only one way to stop those two from giving evidence that would upset his future kingdom. They must be silenced, and silenced for good.
Too late, he realized that Seigel was a broken reed, that Seigel’s thugs were brainless killers who would never get near those two now Forest was alerted. He had finally taken a decision that hurt his pride and weakened his position. He had reported to the Syndicate, admitted he couldn’t handle the situation and had asked for help.
“Waiting?” Seigel snarled, coming over to sit in an armchair. “Waiting for what?”
Gollowitz glanced at his wristwatch.
“I’m waiting for Ferrari. He should be here any minute.”
Seigel scowled.
“Ferrari? Who’s Ferrari?”
“Vito Ferrari,” Gollowitz said.
Seigel stiffened. His big hands closed over the arms of his chair until his knuckles stood out white and bony. His tanned face went blotchy, turning red, then white, and he half started out of his chair.
“Vito Ferrari? He’s not coming here, is he?”
“Yes.”
“But why? What’s the idea? What the hell is he coming here for?”
Gollowitz stared at Seigel, his small black eyes like glass beads.
“I asked him to come.”
Seigel got slowly to his feet.
“Are you crazy? You asked Ferrari to come here? Why?”
“Who else do you imagine can handle this mess?” Gollowitz asked, spreading his fat hands palms up on the blotter. “You? Do you imagine you can handle it?”
“But Ferrari . . .”
“If those two go into the witness box we’re all finished,” Gollowitz said quietly. “They must be silenced. You have had your chance. I have had mine. We both failed. We can’t afford to fail. I asked the Syndicate to send Ferrari. They said I had done the right thing.”
“What will Maurer say?” Seigel asked, licking his dry lips. “You know he wouldn’t have a Syndicate man on his territory.”
“He’s not here. If he had stayed, maybe we shouldn’t have had to ask for Ferrari, but he didn’t stay. I’ve got to save the organization. There’s only one man who can do it for me – Ferrari!”
The name Vito Ferrari struck a chill into Seigel’s heart the way the name Inquisitor must have struck a chill into the heart of a heretic in the Middle Ages.
Vito Ferrari was the Syndicate’s executioner. Fantastic and unbelievable tales had been told of his cruelty, his ruthlessness, his crimes and his lust for blood. He had become a legendary figure in the underworlds of the world.
Seigel knew that if he ever stepped out of turn, it would be Ferrari who would be sent by the Syndicate to kill him. To have asked Ferrari to come to Pacific City was like asking for Death itself to pay a visit, and Seigel stared at Gollowitz with horrified eyes.
“You must be crazy!” he said.
Gollowitz again spread out his fat hands.
“It is either he or the organization. I didn’t want to have him here. If you had shown you could handle this thing, do you imagine I would have sent for him?”
Seigel started to say something when a knock came on the door.
Seigel started, then spun around to face the door, his eyes sick and frightened.
“Come in,” Gollowitz said.
Dutch pushed open the door. There was a
blank, stupid expression on his face, like the face of a man who comes out into the sunshine after sitting through a two-feature programme.
“There’s a guy asking for you,” he said to Gollowitz. “He says you’re expecting him.”
Gollowitz went a shade paler. He nodded his head slowly.
“That’s right. Let him in.”
Dutch looked at Seigel questioningly, but Seigel turned away. Dutch plodded across the room and opened the door that led into the outer office.
“Come in,” Seigel heard him say.
Seigel stood waiting, his heart thudding against his ribs. Although he had heard Ferrari’s name many times during his career of crime, he had never seen him, nor had he seen a photograph of him. He had, however, conjured up in his mind a picture of him. He had imagined him to be a great ox of a man, coarse, powerful, brutal and ferocious. With the reputation such as Ferrari had, no other picture would satisfy Seigel. It came as a considerable shock to him when Vito Ferrari came quietly into the room.
Ferrari was an inch or so under five feet; almost a dwarf, and there was nothing of him except skin and bone. His black lounge suit hung on him as if draped over a tailor’s dummy made of wire.
Seigel was immediately struck by Ferrari’s extraordinary walk. He appeared to glide over the parquet floor, as silently and as smoothly as a phantom, as if his feet were treading on space, and when Seigel looked at his face, he was again reminded of a phantom.
Ferrari’s face was wedge shaped. He had a broad forehead that tapered down to a narrow square chin. His nose was hooked and over-large, his mouth was a thin line as near lipless as made no difference. His yellowish skin was stretched so tightly it revealed the bone structure of his head and face to give him the appearance of a death’s head.
His small eyes were sunk so deeply into dark-ringed sockets as to be almost invisible, but when Seigel looked closer it seemed to him he was looking into the fixed, unnatural eyes of a wax effigy.
Both Gollowitz and Seigel were so startled by Ferrari’s unexpected appearance that they remained staring at him, unable to utter a word.
Ferrari took off his black hat. His thick mass of dark hair was turning a little grey at the temples. He put the hat on the desk and then sat down in the chair Seigel had occupied.
1953 - This Way for a Shroud Page 15