CHAPTER THREE I had my own contact in Chicago and located Sam Reed who operated a horse parlor two blocks off The Loop. I told him to get me a run down on what Matteau and Gage were doing in Culver City and after the usual stalling he told me he would. That is, if he could. I wasnÒt j worried about it. One word to the right people and his tail would be in a sling so heÒd be in there pitching to get off the hook. Then I ate supper and drove back out to the estate. Annie was like a little bird that night, chirping and flitting around me. She had baked all the goodies I used to like and made me try some of everything before I could get out of the kitchen. Miles, Rudy and Teddy had stayed in town attending to business, but Anita was upstairs in her room. I tapped on the door, went in when she called and smiled at the lovely doll brushing her hair in front of the mirror. She spun, grinned and opened her arms so I could squeeze her right and said, ÓIÒve been waiting to see you all day.Ô ÓIÒve been busy, honey.Ô I held her off and looked at her. ÓIf I knew you were going to turn out like this I never would have left.Ô It was the wrong thing to say. The smile left her face and those great purple eyes were tinged with that funny sadness again. ÓPlease, Cat.Ô I nodded. ÓOkay, kitten, I understand.Ô I let her go. ÓVance has been good to me. It ... hasnÒt been easy.Ô ÓSure. But I just donÒt have to like it.Ô ÓI think youÒll like him, Cat. HeÒs respectable, dependable . . . and heÒs done so much.Ô ÓLike what?Ô She turned back to the mirror, refusing to meet my eyes. ÓIÒd rather not talk about it.Ô ÓFine, honey, one word and no more. Whether heÒs a nice joe or not in your book, he isnÒt in mine. Anybody who would tolerate those hoods in this house is scratching me the wrong way. So itÒs your business and IÒm not going to interfere, but something is screwy around here and when I go IÒll know about it. What I do about it is another thing.Ô The brush stopped its motion, then she jerked it through her hair and threw it down on the dressing table. Without looking at me she said, ÓIt isnÒt like when you left, Cat. TheyÒre my family. TheyÒre all I have. Please donÒt do anything.Ô I switched the subject. ÓYou have a date tonight?Ô ÓNo . . . Vance is going to stay in town on business. Some property heÒs involved with.Ô ÓThen suppose we just drop the subject, take in a club, listen to some music, see a show and dance. How about it?Ô Her smile was like music. ÓAll right, Cat. IÒll be ready in fifteen minutes.Ô ÓIÒll be downstairs.Ô But I didnÒt go downstairs. I went along the balcony to MilesÒ room and pushed the door open. I took five minutes to shakedown his place and wasted each one. He was a clothes hog, had expensive taste and had nothing tucked away that pointed to trouble. TeddyÒs taste was a little more flamboyant. He had a gun rack on the wall with two shotguns, a rifle and six pistols. There must have been a dozen framed pictures of broads placed around, each professional studio shots of the show girl types, each signed with endearing bits of garbage to their wonderful Teddy who had probably kept them in mink coats. It was Rudy who was the image of his old man. The conservative type who liked the big-business front. I went through his closet, and desk and the dresser drawers, again coming up with the big zero. His bookshelves were lined with the latest novels, predominately historical, and a set of legal tomes, just the thing any clean cut American boy would have around. The only thing out of place was an eight-by-ten photo of a well stacked brunette in a stage bikini and it wasnÒt signed. The back was tacky with rubber cement and he had probably swiped it from a display somewhere. At least he showed an interest in broads. I put the picture back and went downstairs to wait for Anita. She was right on time, her dress a simple black thing that seemed to overflow with her, setting the dark blonde of her hair off to perfection. Just watching her come down those stairs made my stomach go hard and for a few seconds I felt all empty inside and cursed myself for having let the years go by. She had waited. Damn it, she had waited and when I came it was too late! ÓReady?Ô she asked me. ÓUh-huh. Where to?Ô ÓWell, you said a club . . .Ô ÓTonight the best. After that itÒs peanut butter sandwiches.Ô ÓThe Cherokee is the best.Ô ÓLetÒs go then.Ô About five miles northeast the shoreline jutted out into a peninsula an eighth of a mile long. Right at the tip the lights from a low, modern building fanned out into the dock area and batteries of spotlights lit up the parking site. Flanking the roadway on either side all the way in were tennis courts, pitch-Ñn-putt links and two swimming pools. At the very end a sedate neon sign read, Cherokee Club. Anita said, ÓHow did you know where to go? This has only been up three years.Ô I didnÒt tell her IÒd been there before checking out the Bannennan credit. ÓHeard about it in town when I was finding out how much things have changed.Ô The house was full, and had it not been for Anita I never would even have made the parking lot. Every car there was one of the top three and just as the kid attendant was going to brush me off and catch himself a paste in the mouth, a big guy in a tux came over, saw her and waved the kid away. He threw up a grin and a salute, said, ÓSorry, Miss Bannennan, the guyÒs new here.Ô ÓHe take the place of the one who got shot?Ô I said. ÓYeah, and gettinÒ help ainÒt easy these days. Punk kids is all you get these days.Ô He stopped and thought a moment. ÓThe other one was knifed, not shot,Ô he added as an afterthought. ÓDrive up to the door. IÒll put your car in Miss BannermanÒs usual place.Ô I slipped the Ford in gear and headed toward the building. ÓPretty nice having your own slot. You come here often?Ô ÓOnly with Vance. He enjoys the atmosphere.Ô ÓHe gamble too?Ô Anita looked at me sharply, but my face showed nothing. ÓVery seldom. HeÒs on the conservative side. He prefers investments.Ô ÓGood boy.Ô Inside we got the same preferential treatment from the doorman and headwaiter alike. Before we could be shown to a table a heavyset guy with close-cropped iron gray hair came up smiling, bowed to Anita and gave me a single look wondering where the hell I came from. She introduced him as the owner, Leslie Douglas and when he heard I was another Bannerman the same smile he had for her he gave to me. Old suit or not, if I were a Bannerman I had to be loaded, I guess. The dining room lay like a horseshoe around a dance floor, butting a stage where an eight piece band played quiet music. There were two bars, one catering only to the men, with the casino area taking up the entire second floor. The layout was professional. Not the loose Vegas or Reno attitude that would take anybodyÒs nickel, but more on the Monte Carlo style, catering to a single class. Big Money. I felt as much at home as a cat in a dog kennel. For two hours we drank, talked and danced. For two hours we were those kids again laughing about the things that had happened because now they were pathetically funny. For two hours I lied to her about all those years in between then and now because I didnÒt want her to know. And for two hours we were in love like nothing before and we knew it. But there was nothing we could do about it. She had the Bannerman pride of honesty and I had the sense to keep my mouth shut even though I felt like exploding. At five minutes to midnight she excused herself to go to the powder room and I waved for another drink. Before it came I saw the big guy edging over to my table, smiling and talking to the others on the way until he reached me. His nose had been broken, he had one twisted ear and under his clothes you knew there were great chunks of muscle that could hurt you bad if he wanted to. He nodded at an empty chair and said, ÓMind?Ô ÓNo, sit down. Want a drink!Ô ÓThanks. IÒm on duty.Ô ÓBouncing?Ô His shoulders moved in a massive shrug. ÓIt ainÒt really necessary. I just speak to Ñem generally.Ô ÓThatÒs the only way.Ô The guy was getting to something. He waited until I had the drink and leaned back languidly. ÓYou got a rod on you, ainÒt you?Ô ÓSure,Ô I said, Óbut it ainÒt really necessary. I just speak to Ñem generally.Ô The frown broke into a hoarse laugh and he shook his head. ÓLike my kid says, youÒre cool, man.Ô ÓGot to be in this business.Ô ÓAinÒt why I came though. Les told me you was a Bannerman. That right?Ô ÓSad, but true.Ô ÓCouldnÒt be old Cat Cay Bannerman, could it?Ô I looked at him, trying to get his point. I nodded. ÓMaybe you donÒt remember me. I got my face busted up in the ring, but I was different when I was a kid. Petey SalvoÒs the name. We went to the Ringdale school together.Ô I let out a laugh and stuck out my hand. ÓIÒll
be damned,Ô I said. ÓWoppo Salvo, the kid who got his head stuck in the fence posts.Ô ÓYou remember that?Ô he grinned. ÓHell, yes, like I remember the tunes you and me had it out in the lots for something or other. ItÒs been a long time.Ô ÓToo long.Ô He let his eyes go over my face. ÓYou do some fighting?Ô ÓSome.Ô ÓYou look it. Stupid racket. How long you gonna be around?Ô ÓFew days, maybe.Ô ÓSuppose we get together some time? Plenty things changed around here. You want to meet anybody, let me know.Ô ÓGood idea.Ô Petey Salvo shuffled the chair back and got ready to leave. ÓWhen I first saw you come in here I thought I recognized you from somewhere. Guys I get to know are the ones shouldnÒt be here so I was gonna heave you until Les give me the nod. Then I figured you was like a bodyguard to Miss Bannerman.Ô ÓShe need one?Ô ÓHer? Hell, sheÒs the only decent one. ItÒs those kids who are bums. The night Chuck Maloney got knifed and everyone got questioned he paid off to get hustled out of here and didnÒt even get his name in the papers.Ô I picked up my glass. ÓMaybe he stuck him.Ô ÓYeah, thatÒll be the day. Maloney was an ex-marine and had thirty-one fights in the ring and when that pow-derpuff can close in on him IÒll eat his shoes. HeÒs strictly yellow, you know that. I saw a dame beat the hell out of him one night.Ô He stood up and held out his hand again. ÓIÒm around all the time. Look me up.Ô ÓSure will, Petey.Ô ÓStay for the next show. Real specialty number. Chuck MaloneyÒs wife is doing a strip. Les gave her the job to kinda help things along for her. She used to do a circuit in the east and swings pretty good.Ô IÒll catch it.Ô Anita came back then, saw Petey leaving and said, ÓCompany?Ô ÓWe used to go to school together, Ringdale P. S. where the Bannennans joined the hoi polloi to have the democratic flavor infused into their veins.Ô The lights dimmed then and a spot hit the dance floor. From the band came a sharp chord that was sustained until the M.C. came out with a hand mike and got everyoneÒs attention. His announcement was brief . . . the Cherokee Club was about to offer its feature attraction for the evening, a blazing redhead who had set fire to stages all over the country and was persuaded to visit the club for a two week showing. And introducing, Irish Maloney and her drumbeat rhythm! The bongos and the base started their beat, were joined by a single clarinet and out of the wings came the redhead. She was good, no doubt about that. She had crazy muscular control of every part of her body and could start a ripple going in her thighs that worked its way up her belly to her breasts and undulate back down again. She stayed there working the perimeter of the floor with her body inches away from gaping eyes for a full half hour until the drums gave out and she ran off in a wild burst of applause from everyone in the room. She was interesting, all right . . . but the most interesting part was that she was the same doll whose picture I had seen in RudyÒs room, only then the red hair had photographed brunette. Anita said, ÓShe was beautiful, wasnÒt she?Ô ÓI like you better. Ready to go?Ô ÓWhenever you are.Ô I paid the tab, got her coat for her, said good night to Leslie Douglas on the way out and picked up the Ford myself. The kid in charge didnÒt seem anxious to tool anything less than a Caddie. At the house I walked her to the door, turned her around and said, ÓThanks for the night, honey.Ô She was crying. ÓCat . . .Ô ÓLook, I know. I know the reasons and the answers.Ô ÓWhy does it have to be like this?Ô ÓBecause thereÒs no other way. At least youÒre a real Bannerman. IÒm still the bastard, remember.Ô ÓPlease donÒt say that.Ô ÓWhy fight the truth? There are two ends to the family . . . stay with the big one.Ô There was a funny light in her eyes when she said it. ÓI may at that.Ô Petey Salvo came out at three-thirty when the casino was empty. We drove a couple of miles to a drive in, ordered hamburgers and coffee and after a few minutes of old tunes I got to the point. ÓPetey . . . whatÒs with this Maloney dish?Ô ÓAh, come on Cat, lay off her. She gave Chuck enough trouble. You donÒt want none of it.Ô ÓWho says I do?Ô ÓWell, more guys get a stiff one for that broad than any I ever saw. She was always runninÒ and Chuck was always belting some punk who went after her. She drove him nuts.Ô ÓLook . . . what about that guy the cops are after?Ô ÓHim . . . Sanders? So he tried making a play for her and Chuck nailed him. He did it a couple more times and Chuck did the same thing. But the broad kept the guy coming back. She liked to see the action, thatÒs what I think. Chuck should neverÒve taken her out of show biz. He was better off without her.Ô ÓRudy Bannerman.Ô ÓWhat about him?Ô ÓHe ever try for any of that?Ô Petey bit into a hamburger and scowled. ÓYou crazy? Chuck wouldÒve mangled him.Ô ÓSo did he?Ô ÓAh, everybody tried one tune or another. She used to hang around the tables a lot and you know how it goes. That Rudy makes like heÒs a wheel to all the dames and feels good when they play up to him, but he knew what would happen. Anyway, heÒs a damn drunk.Ô ÓSo?Ô ÓSo when he gets loaded heÒs no good. I heard a couple of the kids he had out laughing about the guy. HeÒs . . . heÒs . . . whatÒs the word?Ô ÓImpotent?Ô ÓYeah. No balls. NothinÒ much else either. The dames laugh at him. Big guy and he falls apart in bed and bawls.Ô He finished the other hamburger and washed it down with the coffee. ÓWhat you getting to anyway?Ô ÓA little matter of blackmail, I think. IÒm beginning to get ideas about how Maloney was killed.Ô ÓWell, if you find out, let me know first. Hun and me were buddies.Ô
Mickey Spillane - The Tough Guys Page 4