by Rod Reynolds
‘Shit—’ He dodged backwards, taking cover outside the room. ‘Yates, it’s me. Put it down.’
My throat rattled in my neck. ‘What is—’
He peered around the door. He was holding a rifle across his chest. ‘Charlie, put it down. It’s over.’
I kept the gun locked on the doorway. ‘You killed him.’
He said nothing, making a show of putting his weapon down and standing it against the doorjamb. ‘I want to come inside, will you put it away?’
I couldn’t feel my arm, could barely speak.
‘Charlie, if I meant to shoot you, I would’ve done. We don’t have all night.’
He was right on both counts. I strained to listen for sirens – nothing yet, but surely coming. I brought the gun to my side.
Tanner waited until I’d pointed it to the floor and stepped inside. ‘You did good, Charlie.’ He turned his eyes to Siegel, not examining his handiwork so much as surveying the damage.
‘What the hell did you do that for?’
He wiped his hand on his trouser leg. ‘I thought you’d be the last man to ask me that.’
‘I’ve tracked him down so—You were supposed to arrest him.’
He pointed at Siegel’s corpse. ‘This is the best way. This is justice.’
I followed the line of his finger, blood running in channels from Siegel’s face across his shirt and jacket and onto the sofa, staining everything it touched crimson. ‘For who?’
‘Don’t go weak sister on me now. Come on, I came to get you away from here.’
My pulse surged. ‘I’m not going anywhere with you.’
‘You want to stay here and wait for the cops?’ He gestured to the pistol in my hand.
‘You could have taken him, goddammit—’
‘Enough. You don’t know a fraction of what he’s done, but what you do know should tell you this was the only answer. This is why you went to Las Vegas and it’s why you came back to LA. This is why you called my offices all those times.’
I tilted my head, wondering how he always knew. ‘Why didn’t you take my call?’
He closed his eyes and moistened his lips and I knew a lie was coming. The real reason came to me before he could start. ‘Deniability,’ I said. ‘You could claim to know nothing when …’ I trailed off, seeing the blood and remembering the message I’d left at his office on the way. A message that shattered his deniability – and just as much so if my corpse was found in the same room. I came to get you away from here.
I snapped the gun up level with his chest.
He thrust his palms out. ‘What the hell is wrong with you?’
‘I’m leaving. Get over there in the corner.’
He glanced where I pointed. ‘You’ve lost your mind. That man had a contract on you and your wife, now he’s dead. I don’t understand your reaction.’
He didn’t move, my path to the doorway blocked. Lizzie’s voice in my head. ‘Trust,’ I said.
‘Trust?’ He looked at me again and scoffed. ‘Charlie, how is it you think you killed Winfield Callaway and just walked away?’
The room started spinning at the mention of the name. Winfield Callaway: where it’d all started, back in Texarkana. The man who’d ordered the killing of Lizzie’s sister, Alice, to protect his murderous son. The death that had thrown us together.
The man I’d wished dead but hadn’t killed.
Tanner tilted his head forward. ‘I can’t take credit for all that happened there in the aftermath, and I won’t claim it was done purely for your benefit – but benefit you did, and I never saw a need to upturn that.’
He was talking about events almost a year before we met. It was nonsensical, improbable; I wanted him to shut up for just a second, just a second so I could think. Words came unbidden from my mouth. ‘There was a cover-up … it wasn’t—’
‘Justice was done, Charlie. I know all about Callaway, you don’t need to explain. All I ask is for you to keep this close the same way I have for you.’
It would’ve been so easy to do as he said. Siegel gone, the contract on our lives dead with him. A real chance to start over in LA, if we could just walk away one more time. But everything about his pitch felt wrong. ‘I’m leaving, right now. I won’t tell a damn person what you did here tonight, all I want is for you to leave me and my wife alone. And for you to get out of my way.’
He lowered his hands to his sides. ‘Then we want the same thing. No one’s going to miss this son of a bitch.’ He circled around in front of me, stationing himself next to the piano. He lifted the lid and tinkled the keys, three high notes. ‘I wish you’d rethink my offer, though. Tell me you have a car nearby at least?’
I moved to the doorway, turning as I went to keep the gun on him. ‘I can look after myself.’ I pulled my jacket sleeve over my hand and snatched up his rifle.
‘Charlie, I can’t let you have that.’
I backed across the foyer, only turning forward again when he was no longer in sight. I threw the side door open and took off for the car, tossing the rifle onto the lawn as I ran. The first sirens in the air.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Sepulveda Pass took us out of the city. The San Fernando Valley stretched before us, a sprawl of dim pinpricks of light.
I spouted all of it to Lizzie – out of sequence, out of control, her questions bouncing off in my rush to tell it. The part about snatching Siegel’s snub nose brought me to a halt – the gun still in my coat pocket. I thought about ditching it, but figured I might need it before the night was out. I handed it to Lizzie and asked her to wipe it clean, eliminating any link from it to Siegel. She tried using the hem of her skirt until she switched to a rag she found in the glove compartment.
At first I planned to just drive. Until news of Siegel’s death reached the street, the contract on our heads was still good as far as anyone looking to collect knew. I pushed on north, waiting for the adrenaline to burn off so I could think straight. But as the rush started to wane, I regained clarity of thought enough to realise that if Siegel’s neighbours could place our car at the scene, the cops would have a radio alert out for our plate. Getting off the road took priority then.
*
The motel room was eight paces at its widest point. I went back and forth enough times to know. I checked the rear window on each return, overlooking the spot where I’d stashed the car. It was hidden from the highway at the back of the building and halfway obscured by a live oak.
Lizzie sat on the bed hugging her knees to her chest as I went through it again. I was calmer but not calm, searching for answers in my own account.
‘I don’t understand how he would’ve gotten involved in Texarkana,’ she said.
I was standing against the wall and I rested my head back. ‘Maybe one of the local agencies called in the Bureau. God knows.’
‘Tell me again what he said about it.’
I rubbed my forehead, verbatim recall eluding me. ‘He implied he’d orchestrated the cover-up. That he’d been protecting me since.’
‘That cannot … Do you believe that?’
‘No. I don’t know. He said—’ This memory came to me complete. ‘He asked how I thought I’d walked away from killing Winfield Callaway.’
She stared at me in silence. ‘But it wasn’t you, why …?’
‘William Tindall said the same to me.’ Tindall – Siegel’s lieutenant in Hot Springs; the man I’d helped to bring down, inadvertently sparking Siegel’s vendetta against me. ‘Join the dots – Tindall to Siegel to Tanner. How can that be a coincidence?’
She buried her face deeper in her knees.
‘How does he always know our movements?’ I said. ‘At every step he knew …’
‘You’re certain you didn’t speak Siegel’s address when you called his office?’
I shook my head. ‘Certain.’
An edgy silence fell, each of us lost in our own thoughts.
At length Lizzie said, ‘I can’t believe he’s dead. I ne
ver imagined feeling this way.’
‘What way?’
Her voice was muffled. ‘I thought I’d be relieved, if it ever came to pass.’ She looked up at me again. ‘Is there any chance Tanner’s good to his word?’
‘That he’s looking out for us?’
She nodded but turned away.
‘You saw through him first, Liz. Way before me.’
I dragged a wooden chair from the desk and collapsed onto it. I looked at my wife and wondered how many more nights like this she could endure.
‘What I don’t understand is if he really wanted you dead, why did he stop Siegel from shooting you?’ She covered her mouth when she said it, shocked at speculating on my killing. ‘Charlie, I’m sorry—’
‘It’s okay.’ I gave her a grim smile. ‘I hadn’t thought about that.’ I planted my elbows on my knees to lean on them. ‘I think it’s the message I left with his colleague. If the cops found me there dead, it would incriminate him in Siegel’s killing. Or at least link him to it. Without me there, it most probably gets written up as a gangland hit. Same reason he didn’t shoot me himself.’
She let out a breath, thinking. ‘It seems so tenuous a link. That supposes he meant to take you away after and …’ She swallowed. ‘Surely it would’ve been easier to kill you both and deny your message ever reached him? In fact, less than that; you never left the address, so he could claim your message was irrelevant. And even that is only if anyone ever thought to suspect him in the first place – and why would they?’
I started to rebut it but realised there was sense in what she said.
‘The risk in killing you after the fact is huge compared to something so easily dismissed.’
It dangled the prospect I’d got it wrong. Which meant he’d kept me alive for some other purpose.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
A few hours alone with my thoughts brought questions.
At some point we’d exhausted all talk, and Lizzie had passed out in her clothes on top of the covers. I sat on the bed next to her, a pencil and scrap of paper in my hand, writing them all down by moonlight, ideas beginning to coalesce into answers.
*
When the clock reached eight the next morning, I ran to the motel payphone and called Trip Newland.
‘You gotta be walking tall this morning,’ he said.
I gripped the receiver tighter. ‘What?’
‘Ben Siegel got whacked last night. It’s all over the wires. Turn the radio on.’
‘Yeah—’ I breathed again. ‘Yeah, I heard it.’
‘You don’t sound so happy.’
‘I need to know something. Who gave you the tip that Siegel was back in LA?’
‘I don’t—Why’s it matter?’
‘Humour me.’
‘I don’t remember, it was just talk—’
‘You told me before no one was talking to you.’
‘It was a figure of speech.’
‘Newland—’
‘Hold on, the last time you got hold of one of my sources he didn’t last five minutes.’
‘Whitey Lufkins,’ I said. ‘That’s who told you, isn’t it?’ The same man who’d sold me out to Siegel, and a natural first stop for a legman finding his feet in a new town.
‘How did you—’
‘Get hold of him and set up a meeting.’ I glanced at my watch. ‘Midday. Don’t breathe a word about this call, if he hears my name he won’t show. Front up whatever cash it takes to make it happen.’
‘What the hell is going on? You sound like a crazy man.’
‘Something else: I need to know where Henry Booker called you from when he gave you Diana Desjardins’ name.’
‘No clue.’
‘I don’t believe you. You were holding something back when we first met and I know what it was.’
‘He called me, he gave me his home number, we talked one more time before you got him killed.’
‘It wasn’t me got him killed, but I have an idea who did. He gave you his home number but that’s not where he called you from, was it?’
He went quiet.
‘Trip, an anonymous source calls you with a tip like that, the first thing you’d have done is called the operator and get a fix on where the call originated.’
Still silent.
‘He called you from the house phone at the Flamingo, right?’
All the colour had drained from his voice. ‘I’m not saying another word until you tell me what’s going on.’
‘Make the meeting. I’ll call you back in two hours for a location.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
For the second time in my life, I stepped into Wilt’s diner to meet Lufkins.
I wondered why he’d chosen the same venue, whether he thought he had some stroke there because of what he’d done to me, affiliating himself to Siegel’s outfit in the process. Or whether he was just a sucker for low-rent joints.
He clocked me just as I came up to his booth.
‘Oh, shit—’
He shot out of his seat. I took a five spot from my pocket and planted it on his chest, holding him in place. ‘Keep quiet and sit down. I’m going to ask you two questions and then we both walk out of here for keeps.’
He was in a half-crouch, folded around the table, only his eyes moving to look down at the money. ‘Newland said fifty.’
‘How about we call it five and you keep the use of your legs?’
‘Not your style, Yates.’ I could feel him trembling. His breath smelled raw, black coffee on top of liquor.
‘You sold me out to Siegel’s outfit when I came asking about those missing girls months ago. Start there.’
He glanced around. The counterman was looking over, wiping a plate on his apron.
‘Sit down,’ I said. ‘Make nice.’
He lowered himself into the seat. The counterman looked away.
‘I swear to god, Whitey, I’ve got bigger problems than a grudge against you. Answer my questions and I’m gone.’
He took the note from me and flattened it in front of him. ‘There was talk … Ben sent the word out that if anyone came asking about those two broads, to call his men immediately. I had no idea what was … I figured it was some dame he was sweet on.’
Siegel knowing about my search way back then; no one apart from Lizzie knew I was looking for them at that stage – or so I’d thought. Now I knew there’d been another: Tanner; the name I kept coming back to. The explanation shattering, impossible—
‘Second question: who tipped you off about Siegel being back in LA two days ago?’
The muscles in his throat contracted. He was shaking his head.
‘Answer me.’
He kept shaking it.
I picked up a fork, gripped it like a dagger, horizontal just above the table. ‘I swear to Christ I’ll put this through your hand—’
He pressed himself as far back into the seat as he could, as if he wanted to dissolve. He was staring at me like he didn’t dare look away. ‘What the hell has gotten into you?’
‘One name and I walk.’
He stared, his eyes wide, unblinking. ‘I don’t know the guy.’
‘Name.’
‘Yates, please—’
‘NAME.’ I reached for his wrist.
‘Belfour. He’s a cop.’
My jaw locked up. I dropped the fork and looked away from him, seeing the walls crawling. ‘No, he’s not. Take my advice and disappear.’
CHAPTER THIRTY
I tore back to the motel to pick up Lizzie, the picture almost clear to me but still not believing it. The outline terrifying enough.
I parked at the back, Lizzie watching for me from the window. I signalled for her to come to the car while I went to the payphone.
I was out of breath when I shoved the nickel into the slot. Newland picked up right away.
‘What are you hearing about Siegel’s murder?’ I said. The radio newscast in the car was speculating about an assassination by rival mobste
rs – but that was always the first story the cops would’ve put out.
‘Did you get to Lufkins?’ he said.
‘Yes. Tell me about Siegel.’
‘No way. You sound like you just watched your own funeral. Something’s going on with you and I want in.’
‘Believe me, you don’t.’
‘Siegel’s dead. Moe Rosenberg’s back from the dead. And you turned into a mind reader—’
‘Say that again.’
‘Yeah, I wondered if you’d heard about Rosenberg.’
The missing piece. ‘Tell me.’
‘You go first.’
I couldn’t even think where to start. Unproven, unassailable, no part of it I could break off to divert him with. ‘If I’m right, you’re in as much danger as me. Unless I know all of it, I can’t protect you.’
The line fuzzed as he exhaled hard.
‘Whatever it is I’ll find out soon enough,’ I said. ‘The best way to protect yourself is give me this head start. This goes way beyond a damn story, but if there’s any of us left alive at the end of it, you can have it all.’
The line was silent. I looked at the highway, expecting cars to come screeching off it any second.
Then he said, ‘Moe Rosenberg walked into the Flamingo this morning and took control.’
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
It was a short run to Lockheed Air Terminal, just north of Burbank. As hard as I was driving, my mind was moving faster, seeing all the ways I’d been used. An unwitting accomplice to the grand plan; why I’d been chosen still murky, but the result plain to see. Lizzie barely spoke after I laid my theory out, her face gaunt and pale.
We made one stop en route to the airfield, clearing out our checking account to ensure she’d have funds to travel. The rest of the way, we thrashed out the details of what came next. Her part of the plan was as important as mine, and carried almost as much risk. But there was a calm determination in her voice as we spoke.