Vengeance Is Mine mh-3

by Mickey Spillane

  “Where, Pat?” My eyes lit up and Pat went grim.

  “The Bowery. Why?”

  “Interesting word. I’ve been hearing a lot about it these days. See if you can get a line on him, will you?”

  Pat tapped a cigarette on the table. “This is all on the table, isn’t it?”

  “Every bit of it, chum. I won’t hold back. I’m curious about one thing, though. What changed your mind from suicide to murder?”

  Pat grinned through his teeth. “You. I didn’t think you’d chase shadows. I said I wouldn’t get excited this time but I couldn’t help myself. By the time I reached the office I was shaking like a punk on his first holdup and I went down to take a look at the body. I called in a couple of experts and though there were few marks on the body it was the general opinion that our lad Wheeler had been through some sort of a scuffle prior to taking a bullet in the head.”

  “It couldn’t have been much of a fuss. He was pretty damn drunk.”

  “It wasn’t,” he said. “Just enough to leave indications. By the way, Mike . . . about that slug and shell we found in the hall. Was that your work?”

  I let out a short, sour laugh. “I told you that once. No. Somebody had a hole in his pocket.”

  He nodded thoughtfully. “I’ll check the hotel again. It had to be either a resident or a visitor then. It’s too bad you didn’t lock the door.”

  “A lock won’t stop a killer,” I said. “He had all the time in the world and could make as much noise as he wanted. Most of the guests were either half deaf or dead to the world when the gun went off. It’s an old building with thick walls that do a nice job of muffling sound.”

  Pat picked up the check and laid a dollar on top of it. “You’ll contact me tonight then?”

  “You bet. See you later and tell the D.A. I was asking for him.”

  It took fifteen minutes to get to the Chadwick Hotel. It was another side-street affair with an essence of dignity that stopped as soon as you entered the lobby. The desk clerk was the Mom type until she spoke then what came out made you think of other things. I told her I wanted to see a certain Marion Lester and she didn’t bother to question or announce me. She said, “Room 312 and go up the stairs easy. They squeak.”

  I went up the stairs easy and they squeaked anyway. I knocked on the door of 312, waited and knocked again. The third time I heard feet shuffling across the floor and the door opened just far enough to show wide blue eyes, hair curlers and a satin negligee clutched tightly at the throat. I jumped the gun before she could ask questions with “Hello, Marion, Juno told me to see you.”

  The wide eyes got wider and the door opened the rest of the way. I closed it behind me and made like a gentleman by sweeping off my hat. Marion licked her lips and cleared her throat. “I . . . just got up.”

  “So I see. Rough night?”

  “. . . No.”

  She took me through the miniature hall into a more miniature living room and waved for me to sit down. I sat. She said, “It’s so early . . . if you don’t mind, I’ll get dressed.

  I told her I didn’t mind and she shuffled into the bedroom and began pulling drawers out and opening closets. She wasn’t like the other girls I knew. She was back in five minutes. This time she had a suit on and the curlers were out of her hair. A little make-up and her eyes didn’t look so wide either.

  She sat down gracefully in a straight-backed chair and reached for a cigarette in a silver box. “Now, what did you want to see me about, Mr. . . .”

  “Mike Hammer. Just plain Mike.” I snapped a match on my thumbnail and held it out to her. “Did Juno tell you about me?”

  Marion nodded, twin streams of smoke sifting out through her nostrils. Her voice had a tremor in it and she licked her lips again. “Yes. You . . . were with Mr. Wheeler when he . . . he died.”

  “That’s right. It happened under my nose and I was too drunk to know it.”

  “I’m afraid there’s little I can . . . tell you, Mike.”

  “Tell me about that night. That’s enough.”

  “Didn’t Juno tell you?”

  “Yeah, but I want to hear you say it.”

  She took a deep drag on the butt and squashed it in a tray. “He took me home. I had a few too many drinks, and ... well, I was feeling a little giddy. I think he rode around in a cab with me for a while. Really, I can’t remember everything exactly ...”

  “Go on.”

  “I must have passed out, because the next thing I knew I woke up in my bed fully clothed and with an awful hangover. Later I learned that he had committed suicide, and frankly, I was very much upset.”

  “And that’s all?”

  “That’s all.”

  It’s too bad, I thought. She’s the type to show a guy a time if she wanted to. It was just too damn bad. She waited to see what I’d say next, and since it was still early I asked, “Tell me about it from the beginning. The show and all, I mean.”

  Marion smoothed out her hair with the flat of her hand and looked up at the ceiling. “The Calway Merchandising Company made the booking through Miss Reeves . . . Juno. She . . .

  “Does Juno always handle those details?”

  “No, not always. Sometimes they go through Anton. You see, Juno is really the important one. She makes all the contacts and is persuasive enough to throw quite a few accounts to the agency.”

  “I can see why,” I admitted with a grin.

  She smiled back. “Our agency is perhaps the most exclusive in town. The models get paid more, are more in demand than any others, and all through Miss Reeves. A call from her is equal to a call from the biggest movie studio. In fact, she’s managed to promote several of the agency models right into pictures.”

  “But to get back to the show . . .” I prompted.

  “Yes . . . the call came in and Juno notified us at once. We had to report to Calway Merchandising to pick up the dresses we had to show and be fitted. That took better than two hours. One of the managers took us to the dinner where we sat through the speeches and what have you, and about an hour beforehand we left to get dressed. The show lasted for fifteen minutes or so, we changed back to our street clothes and joined the crowd. By that time drinks were being served and I managed to have a couple too many.”

  “About meeting Wheeler, how’d you manage that?”

  “I think it was when I left. I couldn’t make the elevator any too well. We got on together and he helped me down and into a cab. I told you the rest.”

  There it was again. Nothing.

  I pushed myself out of the chair and fiddled with my hat. “Thanks, kid. That cooks it for me, but thanks anyway. You can go back to bed now.”

  “I’m sorry I couldn’t help you.”

  “Oh, it helps a little. At least I know what not to look for. Maybe I’ll be seeing you around.”

  She walked ahead of me to the door and held it open. “Perhaps,” she said. “I hope the next time is under more pleasant circumstances.” We shook hands briefly and her forehead wrinkled. “Incidentally, Juno mentioned reporters. I hope . . .”

  “They can’t make anything out of it as long as things stand that way. You can practically forget about it.”

  “I feel better now. Good-by, Mr. Hammer.”

  “So long, kid. See ya.”

  I crouched behind the wheel of my car and made faces at the traffic coming against me. It was a mess to start with and got messier all the time. Murder doesn’t just happen. Not the kind of murder that gets tucked away so nicely not a single loose end stuck out.

  Damn it anyway, where was a loose end? There had to be one! Was it money? Revenge? Passion? Why in hell did a nice guy like Wheeler have to die? Stinking little rats like Clyde ran around and did what they damn well pleased and a nice guy had to die!

  I was still tossing it around in my mind when I parked along that residential street in the Bronx. The big sedan was in the driveway and I could make out the E.P. in gold Old English script on the door. I pulled the key out of the ignition and walked up the flagstone path that wound through the bushes.

  This time I lifted the embossed knocker and let it
drop.

  A maid in a black and white uniform opened the door and stood with her hand on the knob. “Good morning. Can I help you?”

  “I want to see Mr. Perry,” I said.

  “Mr. Perry left orders that he is not to be disturbed. I’m sorry, sir.”

  “You go tell Mr. Perry that he’s gonna get disturbed right now. You tell him Mike Hammer is here and whatever a guy named Rainey can do I can do better.” I grabbed the handle and pushed

  the door and she didn’t try to stop me at all when she saw my face. “You go tell him that.”

  I didn’t have long to wait. She came back, said, “Mr. Perry will see you in his study, sir,” waved her hand toward the far end of the hall and stood there wondering what it was all about as I walked past.

  Mr. Perry was the scared fat man. Now he was really scared. He didn’t sit-he occupied a huge leather chair behind a desk and quivered from his jowls down. He must have been at peace with himself a minute before because an opened book lay facedown and a cigar burned in an ash tray.

  I threw my hat on the desk, cleared away some of the fancy junk that littered it and sat on the edge. “You’re a liar, Perry,” I said.

  The fat man’s mouth dropped open and the first chin under it started to tremble. His pudgy little fingers squeezed the arms of his chair trying to get juice out of it. He didn’t have much voice left when he said, “How dare you to . . . in my own home! How dare you . . .”

  I shook a butt out of the pack and jammed it in the corner of my mouth. I didn’t have a match so I lit it from his cigar. “What did Rainey promise you, Perry, a beating?” I glanced at him through the smoke. “A slug in the back maybe?”

  His eyes went from the window to the door. “What are you . . .”

  I finished it for him. “I’m talking about a hood named Rainey. What did he promise you?”

  Perry’s voice faded altogether and he looked slightly sick. I said, “I’ll tell you once then I want an answer. I told you whatever Rainey can do I can do better. I can beat the hell out of you worse. I can put a slug where it’ll hurt more and I’ll get a large charge out of it besides.

  “I’m talking about a guy you said you knew. His name was Wheeler, Chester Wheeler. He was found dead in a hotel room and the verdict was suicide. You informed the police that he was despondent . . . about business you said.”

  Emil Perry gave ,a pathetic little nod and flicked his tongue over his lips. I leaned forward so I could spit the words in his face. “You’re a damned liar, Perry. There was nothing the matter with Wheeler’s business. It was a stall, wasn’t it?”

  The fear crept into his eyes and he tried to shake his head.

  “Do you know what happened to Wheeler?” I spoke the words only inches away from him. “Wheeler was murdered. And you know something else . . . you’re going to be in line for the same thing when the killer knows I’m on your tail. He won’t trust your not talking and you, my fat friend, will get a nice nasty slug inbedded somewhere in your intestines.”

  Emil Perry’s eyes were like coals in a snowbank. He held his breath until his chin quivered, his cheeks went blue and he passed out. I sat back on the edge of the desk and finished my cigarette, waiting for him to come around.

  It took a good five minutes and he resembled a lump of clay someone had piled in the chair. A lump of clay in a business suit.

  When his eyes opened he made a pass at a perspiring decanter on the desk. I poured out a glass of ice water and handed it to him. He made loud gulping sounds getting it down.

  I let my voice go flat. “You didn’t even know Wheeler, did you?”

  His expression gave me the answer to that one. “Want to talk about it?”

  Perry managed a fast negative movement of his head. I got up and put my hat on and walked to the door. Before I opened it. I looked back over my shoulder. “You’re supposed to be a solid citizen, fat boy. The cops take your word for things. You know what I’m going to do? I’m going out and find what it is that Rainey promised you and really lay it on.”

  His face turned blue and he passed out before I closed the door. The hell with him. He could get his own water this time.

  Chapter Six

  The sky had clouded over putting a bite in the air. Here and there a car coming in from out of town was wearing a top hat of snow. I pulled in to a corner restaurant and had two cups of coffee to get the chill out of my bones, then climbed back in the car and cut across town to my apartment where I picked up my topcoat and gloves. By the time I reached the street there were gray feathers of snow in the air slanting down through the sheer walls of the building to the street.

  It was twelve-fifteen before I found a parking lot with room to rent. As soon as I checked my keys in the shack I grabbed a cab and gave the driver the address of the Anton Lipsek Agency on Thirty-third Street. Maybe something could be salvaged from the day after all.

  This time the sweet-looking ‘receptionist with the sour smile didn’t ask questions. I told her, “Miss Reeves, please,” and she spoke into the intercom box. The voice that came back was low and vibrant, tinged with an overtone of pleasure. I didn’t have to be told that she was waiting for me.

  The gods on Olympus could well be proud of their queen. She was a vision of perfection in a long-sleeved dress striding across the room to meet me. The damn clothes she wore. They covered everything up and let your imagination fill in the blanks. The sample she offered was her hands and face but the sample was enough because it made you want to undress her with your eyes and feel the warm flesh of a goddess. There was a lilt to her walk and a devil in her eyes as we shook hands, a brief touch that sent my skin crawling up my spine again.

  “I’m so glad you came, Mike.”

  “I told you I would.” The dress buttoned up snug at the neck and she wore but one piece of jewelry, a pendant. I flipped it into the light and it threw back a shimmering green glow. I let out a whistle. The thing was an emerald that must have cost a fortune.

  “Like it?”

  “Some rock.”

  “I love beautiful things,” she said.

  “So do I.” Juno turned her head and a pleased smile flashed at me for a second and disappeared. The devils in her eyes laughed their pleasure too and she walked to her desk.

  That was when the gray light from the window seeped into the softness of her hair and turned it a gold that made my heart beat against my chest until I thought it would come loose.

  There was a bad taste in my mouth.

  My guts were all knotted up in a ball and that damnable music began in my head. Now I knew what that creepy feeling was that left my spine tingling. Now I knew what it was about Juno that made me want to reach out and grab her.

  She reminded me of another girl.

  A girl that happened a long time ago.

  A girl I thought I had put out of my mind and forgotten completely in a wild hatred that could never be equaled. She was a blonde, a very yellow, golden blonde. She was dead and I made her that way. I killed her because I wanted to and she wouldn’t stay dead.

  I looked down at my hands and they were shaking violently, the fingers stiffened into talons that showed every vein and tendon.

  “Mike . . .?” The voice was different. It was Juno and now that I knew what it was I could stop shaking. The gold was out of her hair.

  She brought her coat over to me to hold while she slipped into it. There was a little piece of mink fur on her hat that matched the coat. “We are going to lunch, aren’t we?”

  “I’m not here on business.”

  She laughed again and leaned against me as she worked the gloves over her fingers. “What were you thinking of a minute ago, Mike?”

  I didn’t let her see my face. “Nothing.”

  “You aren’t telling the truth.”

  “I know it.”

  Juno looked at me over her shoulder. There was a pleading in her eyes. “It wasn’t me . . . something I did?”

  I forced a lopsided smile. “Nothing you did, Juno. I just happened to think of something I shouldn’t have.”

  “I’m
glad, Mike. You were hating something then and I wouldn’t want you to hate me.” She reached for my hand almost girlishly and pulled me to the door at the side of the room. “I don’t want to share you with the whole office force, Mike.”

  We came out around the corner of the corridor and I punched the bell for the elevator. While we waited she squeezed my arm under hers, knowing that I couldn’t help watching her. Juno, a goddess in a fur coat. She was an improvement on the original.

  And in that brief second I looked at her the light filtered through her hair again and reflected the sheen of gold. My whole head rocked with the fire and pain in my chest and I felt Charlotte’s name trying to force itself past my lips. Good God! Is this what it’s like to think back? Is this what happened when you remember a woman you loved then blasted into hell? I ripped my eyes away and slammed my finger against the buzzer on the wall, holding it there, staring at it until I heard metal scraping behind the doors.

  The elevator stopped and the operator gave her a princely nod and a subdued murmer of greeting. The two other men in the car looked at Juno, then back to me jealously. She seemed to affect everyone the same way.

  The street had taken on a slippery carpet of white that rippled under the wind. I turned up my coat collar against it and peered down the road for a cab. Juno said, “No cab, Mike. My car’s around the corner.” She fished in her pocket and brought out a gold chain that ran through two keys. “Here, you drive.”

  We ducked our heads and went around the block with the wind whipping at our legs. The car she pointed out was a new Caddy convertible with all the trimmings that I thought only existed in show windows. I held the door open while she got in, slammed it shut and ran around the other side. Stuff like this was really living.

  The engine was a cat’s purr under the hood wanting to pull away from the curb in a roar of power. “Call it, Juno. Where to?”

  “There’s a little place downtown that I discovered a few months ago. They have the best steaks in the world if you can keep your mind on them. The most curious people in the world seem to eat there . . . almost fascinating people.”