Death of the Too-Cute Prostitute [= Man Alone]

Chapter Five

I bought a barbecued chicken at the delicatessen and brought it up to the apartment for supper. I hadn’t taken time to clean up the place and it was beginning to look like a Harlem hovel with dirty dishes and damp towels all over the place. There was a note in my box, hand delivered from George Lucas, that I opened when I got the chicken on the table that simply said, “Give me a call.”

When I tried his office the number didn’t answer, so I sat down to the chicken, giving him time to get home. The light on the electric coffee pot blinked red, a signal that it was finished, so I rinsed out a cup and poured it full, sitting with my feet propped up on the table and a dripping drumstick in my fist.

That was when the bell rang. Before I opened it I took the.45 automatic I had liberated after the war, checked the load and held it ready. I had to hold the chicken leg in my teeth to unlock the door and swing it open.

Madaline took all of me in with one sweep of her eyes, started a laugh, then stifled it behind a grin. “All you need is a cutlass to look like Blackboard,” she said.

“His name was Teach. Captain Teach.”

“Okay, brains. But you sure do take a big mouthful.” I yanked the chicken down and closed the door behind her. She took one look around and shook her head in disgust. “So this is how a cop lives,” she said. “Can’t you afford any better?”

“I’m not on the take, Mad. It’s okay when it’s clean. Who needs more?”

“You do. Why didn’t you ever get married?”

“I sort of forgot to. Now who would have me?”

She smiled again, pulled up a chair at the table and reached for the other half of the chicken, pulling it apart delicately. “How much money have you got in the bank?”

“About twenty-two hundred bucks.”

“Your life savings,” she stated. “Get a woman who needs it.”

“Forget it, kid. When I get a woman it’s because she needs me and I need her. I still like the old-fashioned relationship.” I poured her some coffee too, then sat back down again. “I didn’t expect company.”

“You said to call.”

“There’s a phone.”

“Quit being so damn proud. Nobody recognized me. Your reputation is still intact... and enhanced if anybody did see me come in. How often do you get a broad in diamonds and minks into this garret, anyway?”

“Not more than twice a week.”

“Sure,” she laughed. “The chicken’s good.” Through a mouthful she added, “I have news again.”

I sipped at my coffee, watching her. Something had changed in her eyes.

“There’s a Jane Doe who had known Mildred Swiss since she came here. Both came from Europe and wound up in the same business. She saw Mildred the day she died... about noon time. They chatted for ten minutes on the street, walked a few blocks together and during that time Mildred gave the impression that she was going away for a trip. She was planning on an extensive wardrobe and couldn’t help rubbing it in a little.”

“She say who with?”

“As I said, it was a hint... an impression the girl got. She was elated, talked amiably, but that was all.”

“Who was the girl? If she was the last one to see her alive the police...”

“I said she was a Jane Doe, remember? This is off the record, Regan.”

“What’s the rest of it?”

She took another bite of chicken and threw the bone down on the wrapping paper. “You’re a shrewd one, Patrick. The Jane Doe wanted to talk more, but Mildred didn’t have time. She was getting ready for a date.”

“With a killer.”

“Quite possible.”

I put my cup down and tilted back in the chair. “Sooner or later something happens to most of them,” I said. “Doesn’t it make you sick? You’re in the racket up to your pretty neck.”

A cloud seemed to pass over her face and she looked down at her hands. When she decided to look up she said, “Then let me give you the answer I never gave anybody else. Yes, I’m in it. I went into it with my eyes open because it was the only answer to feeding an old man who was an alcoholic, paying medical expenses for an invalid mother and supplying the needs of seven other kids in the family. It was a deliberate move and I knew the right person to set me up.”

“You could have gotten out. You did change the nature of the business.”

“There was one thing that didn’t change. I saw what happened to too many girls. I saw where they went and how they ended up. By keeping my hand in I was able to direct more of them out of it in time. Oh, hell, Regan... I know what you’re thinking. I was still involved, but I got to know the right people and had enough going for me so that I could kill any heat that landed on the kids who got to know too much. There are those who say prostitution is better controlled. Funny enough, I’m not one. I’d like it abolished, but as long as the damn public demands it the authorities accept it and the bastards behind the scene control it, I’ll stay in where I can do some good when the time comes. That’s my story, buy it or not.”

“I’ll buy it Mad,” I told her. “It might not be my way, but I’ll buy it.”

She reached over and put her hand on mine. “Thanks, Patrick. I was hoping you would.” Her hand was warm, the pressure gentle and it was like the time she had thanked me silently in school when I came in chopped up after the fight, when she had done the same thing when I was at my desk and nothing more. It had been enough for me then. “Now... will you do me a favor?”

“Sure...what?”

“Let me clean up this fleabag.”

I grinned at her. “Be my guest.”

Downstairs I picked up two six packs of beer and brought them up and was content to sit there and watch the incredible efficiency of a woman used to service and attention doing the dirty work I could hardly face up to myself. She seemed to enjoy it, too, humming snatches of songs from the war years, laughing at the little things I said, content to let me sit and think while she let the years of luxury wash off her so that she was a kid again.

When she turned around her face was flushed, shiny with beads of sweat and her eyes were bright with living. The place was clean, too. She brushed away a wisp of hair that had fallen across her face, looking more lovely and younger than I had ever seen her.

“Better?”

“Perfect, doll, perfect. Do I pay you day wages?”

“A shower will do. I feel like a mess.”

“You look good to me.”

She grinned. “You’re just saying that because it’s true. Put some more coffee on.”

While I filled the percolator I heard the shower running. I had a crazy warm feeling I never had before, like being part of something nice, something I never knew I wanted before.

The pot stopped bubbling as the light blinked red and I was pouring two cups when she came out of the bathroom. Someplace she had dug out my big old beach towel and had it draped around her like a sarong, another wound around her head turban fashion. She smelled of soap, and warmth radiated from her. One lithe leg jutted from the slit where the towel was knotted at her hip, the flesh firm and silky smooth, still showing a summer tan, the graceful curves swelling from a full calf into a thigh that blossomed with muscular maturity. The top of the towel was reluctant to conceal her breasts, trying to hold fast while each breath made it slip from its position until she almost swelled out of it.

We stood like that for what seemed a long time, looking at each other, seeing all without ever breaking that single, intense stare. Years ago it had happened too. We were young then, unaware of what was happening, knowing something had changed without being able to name it.

The first step we took together, touched with mutual desire, then her mouth was a rich, ripe furnace that melted into mine with a low moan of something too long suppressed and she pressed against me, her body feeling for every inch of me. The thrust of her body burst the tie of the knot in the towel and it dropped unnoticed at our feet, then I had all the womanly texture of her in my arms, under my hands, taking everything she was offering.

I picked her up, deliberately stopped at the threshold of the bedroom door where she smiled up at me with the dreamy eyes of a bride, then crossed to the bed and laid her down gently.

Outside the noise of traffic dimmed and a slow rain began to beat against the window. Thunder rumbled across the roof of the city and the soft yellow of heat lightning brightened the room momentarily every once in a while. It was only when the wind shifted and the rain slanted in the half open window and sprinkled across the bed did we notice it. Unconsciously, I looked at my watch. Three hours had gone by.

“Time, Regan?”

“Plenty of time, kitten.”

“It’s been a long time coming, hasn’t it?”

“Years and years.”

“Will it ever happen again?” There was an expectant catch in her voice, a hushed quality as though she said more than she had wanted to. The hesitant fear was there in her face, but she had to wait for my answer now that it was asked.

I said, “We’re funny people, you and I. Maybe we found something.”

“Can we be sure?”

I touched the wild swell of her breasts and felt her quiver beneath my fingers. “Are you asking me... or yourself? Something would have to change. I can’t.”

“No... you shouldn’t. I’m sorry, Regan. I never should have said it. The words... just spilled out. I’m not something to be proud of.”

“Why not?” My words were sharp, said from between teeth held too tightly together. “I’ve seen people die, kid. I’ve helped them fall. I’ve pulled the trigger. I’ve been there and back so who the hell am I to look back and pass judgment. It’s now and later that counts. Not the before part.”

Madaline came to me with the fierce possessiveness of a tiger, saying things I knew she had never said to anyone else before and heard them repeated back to her. Her nails bit into my skin with frenzied delight, her body engulfing me with new, supreme love.

The phone ringing wakened us with its insistence until I rolled out and picked it up. “Regan?”

“Yeah?” It was George Lucas’ voice.

“Where the hell have you been. I left a note and...”

“I just got in.” I lied to save making excuses.

“Well, buddy, I want to see you. Important”

“Now? It’s two a.m.”

“It’s your money, Regan. I said it was important.”

“Okay, name a spot.”

George named a bar on Sixth Avenue, and I told him I’d be there in thirty minutes. Madaline murmured when I shook her and opened her eyes. “Get up, Mad. Something’s come up. I don’t want you here alone.”

“Oh, Pat...”

“Somebody tried to kill me here the other night. Let’s not make it easy for him if there’s another try.”

Her eyes came wide open and I told her about it. She didn’t take more than a few minutes to get dressed. I shrugged into my coat, slipped the.45 into my belt and held the door open for her. She started to step out into the hallway when I realized the mistake I almost made and slammed her back with a sweep of my forearm. She hit the wall, fell as I jammed the door shut and dropped beside her.

No noise. Just two tiny holes showed in the panel at waist level and something chunked into the wall at the other side of the room. Madaline’s mouth was open with surprise as I said, “Somebody turned the light out in the hall.” Then she saw the holes in the door and nodded abruptly.

I reached up and flipped the switch off, blanketing the room in darkness. “Stay there,” I said. I felt the knob, turned it and eased the door open. Whoever was out there saw the motion and there was another almost silent plop, but I caught the wink of a muffled muzzle blast and triggered off a single shot at the pinpoint of light. The tremendous roar of the.45 split the night apart and feet pounded the stairs below with the heavy tread of someone in headlong flight. The door downstairs opened and slammed shut, but I didn’t follow, knowing it could be a cute trap. He could have eased back behind the stairwell and be there waiting. I went inside, got my flashlight, poked the beam through the banister to search out the area, and when I was certain it was empty, went down and turned on the hall light.

Madaline joined me at the door, still shaking with fright “What happened?”

“Another try. This time with a silenced gun. One of us is a target.”

“One of...”

So she wouldn’t be any more frightened than she was I said, “Me, most likely. Nobody knew you were here. They tried for me before. They’re running scared now.”

“Pat...”

“Let’s go, Mad. He won’t stay around now.” I waited for someone to show, listening for a siren in case one of the neighbors had heard the shot and called it in, but either the walls were too thick or nobody cared. I flagged down a cab, gave him the address of the bar and climbed in. Madaline squeezed my hand, forced a smile and didn’t say anything. I could still feel her trembling.

George had a corner of the bar to himself and the frown he wore turned into a grin when he saw Madaline and he held out his hands to her. “I’ll be damned. Like a class reunion. How the heck are you, Madaline?”

“Scared. Good to see you again, George.”

He looked at me and I roughed him in on what had happened. When I finished his eyes were narrow and hard. “The pressure is on, Regan. It can hit from any direction now. You’re too much of a threat. What the hell is it you know?”

“A lot of things. Not much of anything.”

“Well, I have something. Your money brought in some talk.” He glanced at Madaline.

“It’s all right,” I said. “She’s part of it with us. All on the same side.”

“Before he died, Leo Marcus set up the Syndicate’s new system. You had the old setup torn apart and the Syndicate got on his back for it. They held him responsible and dropped it in his lap. He had to get clear. Some way, he heisted the proof you had which put him back in the catbird seat with the Syndicate. Now here’s the kicker. The top dogs in the organization took a jolt when they had their lawyers check on the reorganization plans. Leo Marcus had taken their money and built himself a separate little world with it. Most likely he planned to get the dough back in the pot before the loss was discovered, but he didn’t act fast enough. They found it out and put out a contract for his kill that was accepted by a pair of hoods from Chicago.”

“When was this?”

“The closest I could figure it was three days before Marcus died. That gave them time to reach New York and pull the job.”

I shook my head. “They don’t work like that and you know it. They generally take a couple of weeks to lay out the kill.”

“Unless...” George started to say.

“Unless what?”

“They played it scientifically. They’re pros and they saw a way to move fast. They tried to take the heat off themselves and the mob by setting you up. Hell, you were on suspension and burning up to get to Marcus and they couldn’t ask for a better sucker. You were handy and they hung it on you in a hurry. The Syndicate would have liked it that way.”

“There’s a hole in the story.”

“Where?”

“The big boys wanted their money back too.”

It was George’s turn to shake his head no. “Not in this case. They could afford to let it go. They’d get it back in other ways, but they wouldn’t care about it that much. A guy with a million doesn’t miss a dollar. It’s the principle of the thing. They don’t want to establish any precedents by letting somebody in the organization get off with company funds.”

“Damn,” I said.

“There may be a contract out on you too, Regan,” George said quietly. “Where do we go from here?”

I tossed down the beer the bartender brought and said, “The love of money is the root of all evil.”

“What?” George frowned.

Madaline gave me a quick glance.

“I’ll call you at the office, George. Stand by in case there’s trouble.”

“The departmental trial is tomorrow.”

“I’ll be there,” I told him. I threw a bill on the bar and took Madaline by the arm and steered her outside. George had just grunted and called for another drink.

From the outside phone booth at the corner of Broadway I called Jerry Nolan and told him to meet me down at the diner near the precinct house. He swore and grumbled, but said he’d be there in fifteen minutes. When he got out of his car he was wrinkled and half dressed, a leather jacket thrown over his pajama tops. “You’re a bird, Regan. I don’t know why the hell I’m doing this.” He looked at Madaline, recognition in his eyes. “What’s she doing here?”

“I asked her, Jerry.” I reached for her hand and he saw it.

His shrug said a lot of things. “Sure. What’s up?”

“Where’s Argenio?”

“Home in bed if he’s smart. He was on the Scipio thing all day.”

“Things ought to be quiet inside. Nobody should ask you any questions. I want you to check the M.P. reports.”

“Who’s missing?” he asked me.

“That’s what I want to find out.” I explained it to him quickly and he scowled.

“You got any idea how long that will take?”

“Maybe you’ll be lucky.”

“Damn it, Regan, I could be at that two-three days. Supposing it isn’t on the reports?”

“Then check the skid row bunch. They’re all permanent fixtures and somebody should know.”

“Suppose it isn’t this city?”

“Get cooperation from the other departments. We’ve done it before.”

He rubbed his hand over the stubble on his jaw. “You think it’s possible?”

“Don’t you?”

“Could be,” he nodded. “So it’ll cost me some sleep and plenty of hell at home. The wife’s complaining about the hours now and I’m not even bucking for promotion.” He nodded good night to us and walked inside.

Madaline looked at me and said, “Can I ask what that was all about?”

“Better you don’t know, sugar. Not now, anyway.”

“Flatfoot,” she grimaced pleasantly.

I saw a cab cruising and waved to it, got inside and gave the driver my address. Madaline raised her eyebrows at me. “Short night.”

I nudged her with my elbow. “It’s polite to wait until you’re asked.”

When I paid off the driver I waited until he was out of sight, made sure we were clear and went into the vestibule. I was finished taking chances. The light was on, the way was cleared and I had the.45 in my hand. Madaline’s feet followed mine to the landing and I held her to one side while I opened the door.

My apartment was empty.

I closed and locked the door while Madaline shucked out of her jacket, then got a knife and icepick from the kitchen, found the three holes where the slugs had imbedded themselves in the wall and worked for twenty minutes prying them out without doing too much damage.

Madaline looked at the squashed lead pellets in the palm of my hand and touched their flattened surfaces with a forefinger. Not much was left of them. “Will a comparison test prove anything?”

“Ballistics expert?”

“I read a lot.”

“I’m not interested in the gun, Mad. They’re easy to get. It’s the silencer and certain new chemical tests that will add things up.”

“All right, my inscrutable friend, play games, excite my curiosity. I have ways of getting even, you know.”

I dropped the slugs on the table and held my arms out. She came to me easily, her mouth tilted up, and her eyes were brand new, brand new. “Don’t ever do that,” I said.

“No... I never will, Regan.”