The Big Heat

Chapter 16

Bannion stopped at the first bar he saw and ordered a whiskey. It didn’t touch the coldness inside him. Now he had to start all over, do it the clean way. Force the note into the open, by pressure or cleverness, but not by shooting a helpless woman. He wasn’t as hard as he’d thought; the oath he’d sworn to Kate was just a loud, empty word.

He had another drink and then went to the telephone booth and called Debby.

“Everything okay?” he said when she answered.

“Sure. Shouldn’t it be?”

“I don’t know. One of Stone’s men, I think, was at the hotel asking for you this evening. He knows where you are, obviously.”

“What should I do, Bannion?”

He rubbed his forehead. He didn’t know and didn’t care.

“Why don’t you say it?” she said, laughing shakily. “I’m just a millstone around your neck. I know it, Bannion.”

“Stop it,” he said irritably.

“All right, I’ll stop it.”

“That’s better.”

“How did your lead turn out?”

He sighed. “A dead-end street. This will be Greek to you, but one of our city’s finest left a note and then blew a hole through his head. The note will do what I may never be able to do to Lagana and company. It will be his end. However, Deery’s wife has the note now, and I wasn’t tough enough to bend to the Fifth Commandment even a little bit. If I had — well that’s another story. Don’t worry about it, Debby. There’ll be another chance.”

“You sound cryptic, if that’s the right word,” Debby said.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said. He had talked only to relieve the pressure inside him, but it hadn’t helped.

“Okay, I won’t. But what should I do, Bannion? I don’t want to be picked up by Stone.”

“Sit tight, I’ll be along pretty soon.”

“I’ll be waiting for you. It doesn’t mean anything, but I miss you.”

“I’ll be along soon,” he said. He walked back to the bar and ordered another drink.

Larry Smith looked down at the green runway lights as the plane banked into its base-leg circuit of the field. It was nighttime and the rows of parallel lights stretched into a black infinity, mysterious but comforting symbols of order and safety.

Pittsburgh, first stop on the coast flight.

He shouldn’t have run out, Larry told himself hopelessly, despairingly, for about the fiftieth time. Lagana and Stone would have understood. You didn’t keep your mouth shut when a man like Bannion had his hands on your throat and was ready to crush the life from your body. No, you talked. Anyone would. They’d understand that. But he shouldn’t have run. That looked bad...

He remembered Lagana’s eyes and shuddered. The interior of the plane was warm and dim, a strange little haven of safety and comfort, but Larry shuddered...

Max Stone paced the floor of his living room, chewing on an unlit cigar and trying to keep his rage in check. Art Keene stood beside the liquor cabinet, watching him with no expression at all on his lean, blank face. Occasionally Stone glared at the two men who sat miserably together on the couch. Once he yelled at them, “Punks, Goddamn punks, that’s all you are.”

“I don’t think it was their fault,” Art Keene said.

“Well, don’t bother thinking so much,” Stone said, taking the cigar from his mouth and staring at Keene.

Keene shrugged and didn’t answer.

It was nearly midnight, and Stone wore a red silk bathrobe and pajamas. The day in bed had helped his hangover, but with the physical improvement had come an immense need for action. The city was going to hell, he knew; and he wanted to do something about it, anything, as long as it was fast, violent and effective. Take the bastards causing trouble and slap them down hard. That’s what he wanted to do, but Lagana said no, and the old man meant it.

The knock he was expecting sounded, and Stone hurried to the door. Lagana came in, frowning, the big man named Gordon on his heels.

“Okay, what happened this time?” he said, in a low, disgusted voice. He glanced around the room, stripping off his gloves. The two men on the couch seemed to shrink under his eyes, and Art Keene busied himself lighting a cigarette.

Stone glared at the men on the couch, too. “Why don’t you surprise us by something right, you punks?” he yelled.

The man called Creamy moistened his big, slack mouth. There was a cut over his forehead, a streak of dried blood on his cheek, and his eyelids were blinking rapidly, as if he was trying to hold back tears. The man beside him, Danielbaum, was in worse shape. Two of his front teeth were out, and his lips were bruised and swollen. There was a quality of hysteria in his bright nervous smile, his daring eyes, the erratic jerks and twitches of his body.

“You shouldn’t say that, Max,” he said, grimacing, tapping the floor with a nervous foot. “Those guys damn near killed us. There were eight or ten of them, and—”

“The numbers are going up every minute,” Stone said.

“All right, let’s have the story,” Lagana said, staring at Danielbaum.

Creamy began to cry. Danielbaum wet his lips, his eyes bright and senseless with fear. “We did our best, we did our best, Mr. Lagana. You see, we were going to deliver the warrants, and—”

“Stone told me about that,” Lagana said, cutting him with an impatient wave of his hand. “What happened when you got there?”

“Well, we saw a cop out in front, and I recognized him as Cranston,” Danielbaum went on as Creamy continued to provide a sniffling counterpoint to the story. “I thought it was just a coincidence, maybe, so we went around to the back. That’s where this queer jumped us, an Indian he was. Then a bunch of guys piled out of the house. They tore the warrants up and started to work us over.”

“Were they cops?” Lagana said.

“No, they must have been an out-of-town mob,” Danielbaum said, twitching nervously. “Mr. Lagana, they were hard. They had guns and they acted like they grew up with ’em in their fists.”

Lagana paced up and down the floor slowly, a worried little line appearing over his eyes. “But they let you go, eh?”

Creamy and Danielbaum nodded hastily.

“I should of sent a couple of Boy Scouts,” Stone said.

“Did you call the district on this?” Lagana said to Stone.

“Yeah. They’re sending a car over to look into it. I told the sergeant to lock up everybody he found there.”

“How long ago was that?”

“Half hour, forty-five minutes.”

“Well, they may know something by now,” Lagana said. He went to the phone and put a call through the Police Board to the district. “This is Mike Lagana,” he said, when the connection was made. His voice was low and pleasant. “Who’s talking, by the way?”

“Sergeant Diamond, Mr. Lagana.”

“Sorry to bother you, Sergeant, but what have you heard about a complaint that was made about half an hour ago, something about some private citizens in your district resisting and mauling a couple of constables?”

“The car got back a few minutes ago, Mr. Lagana.”

“I see. What’s the story?”

“Well, the officers say there was just a bunch of fellows sitting around playing poker. Nothing to the complaint, I guess.”

“There was something to the complaint,” Lagana said, in a harder voice. “I’m telling you so, Sergeant. You send a car back there and pick up everyone in that poker game.”

“Mr. Lagana, there was a police Inspector sitting in that game, and a priest from Saint Gertrude’s. I’m not going to arrest them, unless I get an order from the Superintendent.” The Sergeant wasn’t defiant; but he wasn’t afraid.

“You know who you’re talking to?” Lagana said, surprised.

“Yes, sir, Mr. Lagana, but I—”

Lagana put the phone down with a crash. “Bannion’s getting cute,” he said, slapping his gloves down against his open palm. He frowned at the floor for a moment, and then, automatically, he checked the pulse in his left wrist. His lips moved, counting, but still he frowned at the floor, apparently unaware of what he was doing. “I don’t like this very much,” he said, at last. “However, we won’t do anything about it. Not right now.” He put his hands in his pockets and squared his shoulders. “What about Larry?” he said, glancing at Stone.

Stone looked at Keene. “Where’d you say he went?”

“He bought a through ticket to Los Angeles.”

“Well, we’ve got some friends out there,” Lagana said, thoughtfully. “Give them a call, Max, and tell them friend Larry is a loudmouth.”

“Sure thing.”

“Come on, Gordon, let’s go,” Lagana said. “I’m tired.”

Watching him go, seeing the slow step, the strangely gray face, Stone felt an uneasy stab of fear. The old man was worried, and that wasn’t like him. He always said people worried because they couldn’t think. But he was worrying now; maybe it was the time when thinking wasn’t any good. Maybe it was time to worry.

“Let’s have a drink,” Stone said. He glanced at Creamy and Danielbaum, aware that he was frowning. “Well, don’t look so sad,” he said. “Everybody makes mistakes.”

Bannion parked before his hotel, checking the street with a quick glance, and walked into the lobby. The night clerk gave him his key, and said, “That girl you took a room for has gone, Mr. Bannion.”

“Was she alone?”

“Yes, she was alone.”

“I see.” Bannion lit a cigarette, feeling oddly letdown. “Did she leave any message?”

“Why, yes. She just asked me to tell you she wouldn’t be back.”

“I see, thanks.” Well, that was that. She might have gone to Stone, although it wasn’t likely. Probably she was on the run. He wondered if she had any money...

Bannion went up to his room and made himself a drink. He stretched out on the bed, lit a cigarette and stared at the ceiling. The faint night sounds of traffic, a man’s laugh, a train starting up, drifted in on him with a curiously depressing effect...

The phone at his elbow rang. Bannion lifted the receiver and said, “Yes?”

“Bannion?”

He knew the voice. “Yes. Where are you?”

“I decided to get out of your hair,” she said. “You were a good egg about it, but I was a nuisance.” She laughed then, an odd little laugh. “You weren’t so tough after all. But that’s okay. You’re better off being a little soft.”

“Are you all right?” he said.

“Sure, I’m fine.”

“Where are you?”

“Did I forget that? I’m at Mrs. Deery’s, Bannion.”

Bannion sat up abruptly. “Are you crazy? What in hell are you doing there?”

“I’m proving something, I guess.” She laughed again, softly. “I’m proving I’m a tough guy.”

“Get the hell out of there, Debby.”

“No, I’m staying.”

Bannion hesitated, feeling a sudden coldness in his stomach. “Where’s Mrs. Deery’, Debby?”

“She’s dead, Bannion.”

“You’re crazy.”

“Maybe. Anyway, I’m a tough guy. I did what you couldn’t do, Bannion. I did it for both of us.”

“Debby, you’re out of your mind. You didn’t do a damn thing for me.”

“Well, I like to think I did. It’s nice to think that. Give a girl that much, Bannion.”

“This is a gag, a stupid, silly gag.”

“No, it’s no gag. I read the papers, you know, and I read about Deery. That’s why I came out here. He left a note, and his wife had it. You were so damn cryptic, if that’s the word I mean. About not being strong enough to bend the Fifth Commandment.” She laughed, a high, happy laugh. “You must have thought I never went to Sunday School with all the good little girls. You thought I wouldn’t get it, eh?”

“Debby, listen to me!”

“Not now, Bannion. She had the note, and you couldn’t kill her. Well, I could. It was easy. With the little gun Stone gave me to protect myself in this big bad city. He’s through now, isn’t he? When the note comes out, he’ll be through, won’t he?”

Bannion got to his feet, reaching for his coat with his free hand. “Listen Debby! Sit tight, I’m coming out there. You wait for me, do you hear?”

“No, I can’t wait, Bannion. Goodbye, you big baby. You were nice to me, so thanks.”

The phone clicked in his ear. Bannion jiggled the hook several times, and then looked up the Deery number in the phone book. He tried it but got no answer.

Bannion paced the floor, frowning, rubbing his big hands together slowly. Finally he stopped and sat down at the phone. He hesitated again, then called the Express, and got Jerry Furnham’s home number...

Furnham sounded as if he had been asleep.

“Jerry, this is Dave Bannion. I’ve got what may be a good story.” He talked rapidly for half a minute, and when he stopped, Furnham said, “I’ll get right on it, Dave.” He didn’t sound sleepy now. “We can find that lawyer. If this is straight, the lid’s going off. Thanks.”

Bannion picked up his hat and coat and left the room.