“Put the body in the tub for now,” Giarelli ordered his goons. “’Case some maid comes walking in. We’ll have Tito and Spinoza get rid of it later.” He turned his dull gaze back to Stanton and myself, adding: “Want to have a little chat with these guys first.”
Giarelli’s two thugs walked over and picked up the body at the shoulders and ankles, paying no attention to the flopping arms and lolling head, their attitudes casual and workmanlike. They might have been picking up a sack of feed. Meanwhile their boss continued to glare at the two of us, almost daring us to make a break for it. I noticed one of his hands had slipped inside the pocket of his overcoat. A moment later, the two thugs came out of the bathroom, closing the door behind them.
“Ryland didn’t have my money,” Giarelli said. “He didn’t have any money. Turns out that was the one thing he wasn’t lying about.” He drew on his cigar and blew out a cloud of smoke, fixing Stanton with his passionless stare. “Know what that means? That means I got to collect the whole two hundred thousand from you. You or your boyfriend here. Don’t make any difference to me.”
“What do I have to do with any of this?” I demanded. “I never took any money from you.”
“You’re investing with this guy, ain’t you?” Giarelli answered softly. “How you gonna make any money, he’s dead? Besides, you’re a witness now. You see I get back what’s mine, maybe I know I can trust you to keep your mouth shut.”
Stanton had to be wondering how much Ryland had told Giarelli in those last moments of life, pleading teary-eyed with a gun pointed at his face. Had he given up the fact that Stanton was a con man? Would that change anything if he had?
“You kill a man in my room,” I said, incredulous, “and then you try to blackmail me?”
“Not blackmail, Shaw. Giving you a chance to prove yourself to me, and you better take it.” Giarelli looked over at Stanton. “Haven’t heard much from you so far.”
“This…this is all quite shocking,” Stanton said quietly. “I don’t know what you want of me. Yes, yes, I know,” he said quickly in response to Giarelli’s irritated scowl, “you want two hundred thousand dollars. Or at least half, and–”
“All,” Giarelli said flatly. “That other deal’s gone now. I tried to be reasonable. We’re past that. Besides, I’m on a timetable. I don’t have time to wait till Saturday.”
“When?” Stanton asked weakly.
“You got twenty-four hours. Bring the money here to this room tomorrow night. Bring it all.”
“Mr. Giarelli,” Stanton said, “I don’t know if I can possibly–”
“I don’t know if you can either, Stanton. I just know what happens to you if you don’t.” He glanced over at me again. “What happens to both of you.”
I glanced over at the bed for a moment, wondering if the wire recorder under it was running properly, if I could use anything it was catching.
“Now you two beat it,” Giarelli told us. “Find some place else to talk, figure out what you’re gonna do about this. We got to get that body out of the tub and buried somewhere. Go.”
Slowly, not knowing what else to do, Stanton and I turned for the door. Giarelli’s voice called out softly when we reached it.
“You two can try to run, but I’ll catch up to you. And when I do, it won’t be a quick bullet like Ryland in there. I’ve seen guys cut to pieces over six hours, begging the whole time we take something vital from them and end it.”
He stopped talking and we continued walking. Neither Stanton nor I said anything in the hallway. I told the boy in the elevator “Lobby” and we rode down together in silence. It wasn’t until we were outside the main entrance, the cool night air reviving us, that Stanton seemed to regain himself a bit.
“I think it best, Mr. Shaw, if we separate for the present. We can meet up tomorrow at–”
I grabbed him just above the elbow and squeezed until he made a noise.
“Not a goddamn chance, you crooked old bastard!” I spat through clenched teeth, cold fury in my eyes. “We’re going for a cup of coffee, you and me, and talk this thing over. You try to lose me beforehand, I swear to Christ I will break both your legs, carry you back to that monster in the cream suit, and feed you to his goons myself.”
Stanton didn’t pale as much as he had upstairs looking at Ryland’s body, but I could tell he got the message.
Stanton and I sat together in an all-night diner, at a booth under lights that were too bright. Coffee was cooling in front of us as I was thinking what I wanted to say. My mind was working quickly. Stanton was obviously shaken from what we’d seen tonight. Shaken, scared, and desperate. I might never get a better chance.
“Ryland lost all his money with you,” I said, my voice low. “Every goddamn cent of it.”
“It was a risky investment from the start,” Stanton said, his hand trembling a little as he stirred cream into his coffee. “Extremely risky. I made that very clear to him. I even tried to dissuade him. I certainly had no idea he was staking his entire fortune on it.”
“And you didn’t feel like sharing this information with me before now?” I stared hard into Stanton’s face.
“I consider knowledge of my associates’ investments sacrosanct,” Stanton replied. “I make it a practice never to hand over such delicate information to third parties.”
“Don’t even try that with me. I was ready to invest half a million damn dollars with you, and now I’ve got some gangster threatening to put a bullet in me if you don’t cough up two hundred grand by tomorrow night.” I honestly had to give Stanton credit; the man was as good as the game. He didn’t try to calm me with his wiser, more mature influence, and he damn sure didn’t trot out the poor, pitiful old man. His own eyes hardened somewhat as he made his next point.
“I am a businessman, Mr. Shaw, just as you are. No, I did not feel the need to inform you of my role in Mr. Ryland’s misfortune. The same as you don’t feel the need to inform your partners in the purchase of this building that you intend to hide additional funds from them.”
He kept his eyes level on me and I gave a small, appreciative nod. The man had figured out how to play Kelly Shaw.
“I regret that Mr. Ryland suffered for his rashness,” Stanton continued. “I tried my best to talk him out of it, and I do not blame myself for his misfortune.”
I blew on my coffee and took a sip. “You mean the misfortune of losing all he’d worked for or the misfortune of getting shot dead by a gangster?”
“I blame myself for neither. I had no idea he owed money to such a man when I agreed to handle his investment.”
“I never knew he was mixed up with people like that,” I agreed, shaking my head. It was time to start building a small bridge here. I looked up from my coffee and asked: “Have you got two hundred thousand?”
“In cash money? Certainly not on me, but even given twenty-four hours, it would be difficult to gather such an amount.”
“But could you?”
Stanton sighed and let his shoulders drop.
“It would seem I have no choice.”
I moved the salt shaker around in an aimless circle, not looking up.
“Maybe we can still help each other out,” I suggested cautiously.
Stanton looked at me a bit warily.
“How so, Mr. Shaw?”
I shrugged. “My goal is to hide some money. You know that. I’d have preferred investments for all of it, maybe make a little from it. But hell,” I ran a hand across my face, “now this gangster knows my face and has decided I’m on his list, too. Just because I happened to know Ryland and I know you. I guess it doesn’t really matter where my money’s hidden, so long as I can get it back in a month or so.”
Stanton was too much of a pro to act greedy. He appeared to consider what I was saying as he drank his coffee.
“Please continue, Mr. Shaw.”
“I’m sitting on four cashier’s checks totaling four hundred and seventy thousand dollars. But I’m not about to hand those
over to a man who may not live long enough to make it to the broker’s window,” I said coldly.
“Mr. Shaw, I assure you I will get Mr. Giarelli’s money to him. It won’t affect our arrangements.”
“I’m afraid your assurances don’t go as far with me as they used to, Mr. Stanton. Hell, even if you pay Giarelli, how do you know he’ll let you walk back out again? You can attest to the fact that he murdered Ethan Ryland, and Giarelli knows that. He knows I can, too,” I added, shaking my head. It pleased me to see a worried look cross Stanton’s face.
“I think, Mr. Shaw, that a man like Mr. Giarelli cares only about his own interests.”
“And you don’t think staying out of the penitentiary would be one of those interests?”
“I have no desire to involve myself in so sordid an affair as a murder,” Stanton said smoothly. “I’m sure I can make that clear to Mr. Giarelli.”
“Maybe,” I agreed, “but it might be better if we had some insurance.”
“Such as?”
“We’ll work that out later. Here’s what I’m proposing, Stanton. I want to make sure you pay Giarelli off tomorrow night. I won’t go see him with you, but I’ll be nearby. When I know we’re both in the clear, I’ll hand over the remaining four cashier’s checks.
“Now here’s where I want you to pay attention,” I continued. “I don’t want to worry that you’re helping yourself to some of the money I’m giving you instead of investing all of it like we promised.”
“Mr. Shaw!” Stanton appeared shocked. “I give you my word–”
“Yeah, I’m sure you do. But I’d rather not have to worry about it just the same. So here’s what we’ll do: you go ahead and take two hundred thousand from the money I’m giving you, reimburse yourself for the money you had to pay Giarelli.”
Stanton stared at me, surprised and certainly confused.
“We’ll call it a loan,” I continued. “Like I said, I won’t miss it for a month or so. That should give you plenty of time to earn it back on the markets. The rest of the two hundred seventy thousand, you invest it for me just like we planned.”
“And the terms of this loan?” Stanton’s eyes narrowed; the man wasn’t stupid.
I leaned back in my seat and tilted my head to one side.
“You told me I could expect between three and five percent return on the money I’m investing with you.”
“That’s correct.”
“Okay. For the two hundred thousand I’m loaning you to get Giarelli off our backs, I want fifteen.”
Stanton pretended to think about this for a moment. The last thing he wanted to do was appear grateful or, worse yet, relieved.
“I suppose I do have to give Mr. Giarelli his money,” Stanton said. “And it would be a great help if I didn’t have to use my own funds to do so. As you know, I have several deals in motion just now and the transfer of so considerable an amount–”
“Fifteen percent,” I repeated. “And I want it up front.”
The corners of his mouth turned down disapprovingly for a moment, then he gave me a rueful smile.
“You have me in a position where I don’t dare disagree with your terms, Mr. Shaw.”
My smile was more ruthless than rueful.
“You said it yourself, Mr. Stanton, I’m a businessman, too.”
At the end of the night, I was back at my first hotel. It seemed like a half-decent idea to avoid the Lord Baltimore for the time being; Giarelli was making himself far too easy with my suite. I kept thinking of the two hundred thousand Stanton was supposed to bring Giarelli tomorrow night – and the thirty grand for me if he kept his word – turning the whole scenario over and over in my mind. I came up with at least half a dozen ideas, and would have gladly traded twice that number for one that was foolproof.
On the plus side, Penny Sills had accepted my hospitality for the night (though she had complained about the smaller room). We were sitting up in the bed, Penny resting her head against my chest as I smoked and thought and stroked her hair absently.
“Your friend Jennings not coming home tonight?” she asked.
I shook my head. “Got himself another poker game lined up.”
She pulled back and looked up at me for a moment, her eyes blue again.
“At the same place?”
I nodded.
“Poor kid,” she laughed, shaking her head. “I’m surprised he has any money left after the last time. Guess he’s hell-bent on going up against some real talent or going broke trying.”
“You never know,” I shrugged. “The cards could run right for him this time.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Penny said. “Those guys don’t exactly run a fair game, not with a rookie in the crowd anyway.”
“He could still get the cards.”
She looked up at me again. “Dev, do you have any idea how good you’d have to be to win against a table full of guys working together?” I had a pretty good idea, in fact.
“You think Stanton will be able to get the cash together?”
“Maybe. Probably. He’ll have to beg, borrow, steal, and then some to get it in one day,” she said. “And he may have to come up with a hell of a story for his people so they’ll stay with him. But he couldn’t do it twice, and won’t him handing this money over to Giarelli put your plans right down the sewer?”
I shook my head and took a drag on my cigarette.
“Doesn’t affect my plans at all, really. If anything, it keeps Stanton even more distracted from what I’m really trying to do. Lucky break, in a way.” I hadn’t told Penny about Ryland; there’d been no need.
She pulled away and sat back against her pillow, then reached for my cigarette.
“And what are you really trying to do?” she asked. I just stared at her. “You’re not going to try and take the money off of Giarelli?” Her eyes narrowed, maybe even with a hint of concern.
“Noooo!” I said emphatically, laughing. “I’ve done a lot of stupid things in my time, honey, but stealing from gangsters isn’t one of them.”
“You going to try and take it before Stanton delivers it?” Now she was really curious.
“Don’t be simple. You might see some difference in doing it that way. Giarelli wouldn’t.”
“Then what are you going to do?”
I said nothing and she said: “Still don’t trust me, huh?” I was glad she didn’t sound hurt about it; she wasn’t playing me for that big a mark.
“I think you’re playing level with me, Penny. So far. But I also think you’d turn on a dime and go over to Stanton for real if you thought the wind was blowing that way.”
“I probably would,” she agreed, then looked down at the blanket for a moment. “Guess you don’t think much of me. Guess you’re right not to.”
I put my hand gently under her chin and tilted her face back up toward mine.
“It’s what you do, Penny. It’s the life you’ve chosen. I understand that you have to play by the rules as you see them. We all do. Doesn’t keep me from thinking you’re a swell gal.”
She looked at me for a moment.
“You mean that, don’t you?”
“Yeah, I mean that.”
“You don’t trust me but you still like me.”
“Sweetheart, if I only liked people I trusted, I’d hardly have any friends at all.”
She snuggled warmly against me. “You’re different, Dev. You’re not like a cop, you’re not like one of us. I can’t quite figure you out.”
“Let’s hope Stanton can’t either. And speaking of Stanton…”
“Yes?”
“I tried to help you once five years ago, Penny. Remember?”
“Of course I remember.”
“I’m going to try to help you again and I hope this time you listen. There’s more going on with all this. Nothing I can tell you, but you don’t want to be playing on Stanton’s side in this, even if his side starts looking better to you.”
She pulled away again, trying to
read my face. Her eyes widened again as she made a connection.
“Is the law closing in on Stanton? Is that what you mean?” Her eyes went wider. “Is this what this whole thing is about? You’re helping them, just pretending you’re in this for yourself?”
“Are you going to tip Stanton?”
She shook her head, her face serious.
“Because if you do, Penny, you know what’ll happen? The same thing that happened last time, only worse. I know you don’t want to go back inside, and I sure as hell don’t want to see you go back either.”
“And if I keep helping you?”
“Then you’ll be fine. I promise you will. You may even make a little something for your trouble.”
So far as empty promises made to a woman in bed go, I thought, there are worse.
I was showered and dressed by eight. Penny was long gone and I called the front desk and tipped the maid who came to change the sheets. Jennings should be along soon and the boy would need some rest after another all-night poker game. I was sitting alone in the room, having a smoke and thinking when the door opened and Jennings walked in smiling, his eyes shining from beer and victory.
“How much, Jennings?”
“Over fifteen grand, easy,” he grinned, pulling out a stack of bills and slapping them on the table.
“You hungry?”
“I’m starving, Mr. Caine.”
“Come on, you can tell me about it over breakfast.”
We went back to the cafe across the street where I ordered bacon and eggs for one and Jennings had oatmeal and pancakes for six. The poor kid was dying to tell me the details of his evening but too hungry not to eat at least half his food first. I listened patiently, ignoring the parts I couldn’t follow. I knew how the story ended.
Jennings walked into a game in progress at the same place, unannounced but knowing he had an open invitation.
“Oh, they were happy to see me, Mr. Caine.”
“A standup guy like Tom Shandle? I bet they were, kid.”
Jennings had a thousand-dollar stake with him and started out with his same five hundred in chips. What these men didn’t know, of course, was that Jennings had lost on purpose the last time. We both knew he might have lost last night, too. The best poker player in the world can’t do much if he never gets the cards, but Jennings started getting them almost from the start. He explained to me that his opponents had no idea how easy they’d made it for him. First, he’d already played with them for several hours a few nights ago, most of them. He’d had a chance to study them and see how they handled the boards. And their signaling worked against them as well. Jennings had most of their signals down pat, and it took him maybe a hand or two here and there to learn the signals of the two guys who hadn’t been at the table the last time. By working together like they did, it made it easy for Jennings to figure out who he had to beat, as the rest would either fold or not go too far in. Jennings kept his eye on the pots, losing a few small ones when he had to but raking it in on the big ones.
A Shared Confidence Page 27