Hit Them Where it Hurts

Seven

From the outside, the Three Crab Restaurant didn’t look inspiring. It had a tatty, weather-beaten air with its bleached wooden front and its narrow glass door, screened by a red curtain: not an enticement to tourists.

When I pushed open the door, I found myself in a tiny lobby with a Vietnamese acting as a hatcheck girl. She gave me a welcoming smile.

‘You have a reservation, sir?’ she asked.

‘I am expected.’

‘Would you be Mr Wallace?’

‘That’s right.’

She pressed a bell push on the counter.

‘Just one moment sir.’

A short, fat man, wearing a grey alpaca coat, white shirt with a string tie and black trousers, materialised.

‘Mr Wallace?’

‘Correct,’ I said.

‘Miss Sandra Willis is expecting you, Mr Wallace.’ I got a flashing smile, revealing white capped teeth. ‘Please to follow me.’

He opened a door, and the sound of voices, the clatter of dishes, startled me. I followed him into a vast room, crowded with tables and packed with people. Some of the men wore white tuxedos. All the women were dressed to kill. Waiters were moving swiftly and efficiently, changing plates, serving dishes.

‘You have quite a business here,’ I said as he led me by a packed bar and to a flight of stairs.

He turned and gave me his flashing, toothy smile.

‘I don’t complain.’

He led me up the stairs, reached a door, tapped and threw the door open, bowing me in.

‘Mr Wallace, Miss Willis.’

She was sitting at a table, laid for dinner in a small, but well furnished, air conditioned room. She waved to me and motioned me to sit at the table. She was wearing a dark red dress, and her black hair was caught back by a band of pearls. She looked terrific, and caught her sexual vibes as I sat, facing her.

‘Let’s eat, Wally,’ she said. ‘I’m starving.’

‘Two seconds, Miss Willis,’ the man in the alpaca coat said and vanished.

She regarded me.

‘I need to talk to you,’ she said, ‘but first I must eat. I haven’t had a thing since last night. J.W. is very exacting.’

‘J.W.? Walinski?’

‘Who else?’

There was a tap on the door, and a waiter who looked Mexican hurried in. He put a plate of a dozen oysters Rockefeller before Sandra and the same for me. He then poured a chilled white wine and, bowing, he left us.

The oysters were excellent. As I speared my fifth I said, ‘You seem at home here, Sandra.’

‘I come here most nights. When a woman is usually on her own, it is wise to eat privately, and where she is known.’

‘I shouldn’t have thought you were often alone.’

She shrugged.

‘My working hours are impossible. It is only that J.W. decided to go to the casino, I am eating now.’

‘You want to talk to me?’

‘Yes, but not yet.’

By now we had finished the oysters and I heard a bell ring. I guessed she had pressed a hidden bell push on the floor.

Almost immediately, the waiter appeared and cleared the plates, then yet another waiter appeared, pushing a hotplate trolley.

‘You don’t object to seafood?’ she asked me.

‘I don’t object to any food.’

The waiter served from a big dish. He placed before Sandra half a grilled shelled lobster, fried clams and king-sized prawns, stuffed with crab meat. He served rice with a scattering of red peppers over which he poured a thick, creamy sauce tinted pink by lobster coral.

He did the same for me.

‘Some dinner,’ I said.

It wasn’t until we had eaten a second helping that she relaxed, leaning back in her chair and regarding me.

‘Coffee,’ she told the waiter as he cleared the dishes. ‘A cigarette, please, Dirk.’

I gave her a cigarette from my pack, lit hers and mine.

‘That’s a lot better,’ she said, and smiled at me. ‘Now we can talk.’

The waiter returned with a pot of coffee, poured, then went away.

I waited, looking at her. She was too good to be true, I told myself. She had everything most women would envy and a saint would be unable to resist, but her glittering green eyes, as hard as emeralds, warned me this woman was very dangerous.

‘So what do we talk about?’ I asked, sipping my coffee.

‘You are the first man I have met in this God-forsaken city who has guts. I need a man with guts.’

‘What makes you think I have guts?’

‘A man who can bomb a stinking hole like the Black Cassette and scare an ape like Smedley so he quits the city has guts.’

‘How do you know he’s quit the city?’

‘Half an hour ago, he telephoned. He wanted to talk to J.W. I recognised his voice so I told him J.W. was tied up and what did he want? He said you had tortured him into telling you that Angela Thorsen had hired him to do the acid job, and he had to quit. Could J.W. give him money?’ She paused, then went on, ‘I told him to go to hell, and hung up. I got one of the boys to check. Smedley has gone, heading for Miami.’

I sat waiting, knowing there was a lot more to come.

‘I haven’t told J.W. what Smedley told me about Angela Thorsen,’ she went on. ‘She is valuable to him. If he knew she was behind the acid job, he would be sure you were going to fix her. You wouldn’t last ten minutes.’

‘All the same, I am fixing her,’ I said.

‘To understand this scene, Dirk,’ she said, lowering her voice, ‘I am going to wise you up.’

‘Why?’

‘I told you: I need a man of guts. Now I have found you, I don’t want you blown away in your hunt for revenge. You can’t buck the organisation. Now, listen! J.W. is the top shot in Florida. His job is to collect money for the organisation. Florida is a gold mine. Anyone with money has a secret, and there are thousands of them who pay blackmail. The big stores, the casino, the top hotels pay protection money. J.W. lives at the Spanish Bay Hotel for nothing. The hotel doesn’t want staff trouble. J.W. has only to raise a finger and the staff will walk out. The monthly take is big: around a million and a half. J.W. is responsible for keeping to this figure or increasing it. This makes him vulnerable. The organisation would replace him if he began to slip. This is I the reason why he is anxious to have no trouble in this city. He gets ten thousand from the Thorsen girl. If you start trouble for her, J.W. will be ten thousand short. I know the organisation is getting dissatisfied with his work. They want a bigger increase. He is living on a tightrope. Let me tell you, Dirk, the only reason he hasn’t had you blown away is that you are too well known here, and are friends with the cops. He doesn’t want any publicity. You with me?’

‘Why are you telling me all this, Sandra?’ I asked. ‘I understood you worked for J.W., and he seems to think a lot of you.’

Her smile was evil and bitter.

‘I’ll come to that. The only reason J.W. wanted to see you was to con you into believing how sorry he was about the acid job. You accepted his story that Minsky was dead and buried. J.W. is a most convincing liar. Minsky is his right hand. It is Minsky, with his team of ferrets, who dig up the dirt for blackmail. Without Minsky, J.W. would be lost. He would no more think of getting rid of Minsky than you would cutting off one of your arms. Minsky is alive and working. Smedley is a birdbrain and useless to the organisation. When he arrives in Miami, he will disappear. Minsky is an expert at making unwanted people disappear.’

I leaned forward.

‘Are you telling me this sonofabitch who sprayed acid in my girl’s face is alive?’

She nodded.

‘That’s what I am telling you.’

I drew in a deep breath, feeling cold rage run through me.

‘Where do I find him?’

‘You won’t. You don’t even know what he looks like.’

‘He’s short, broad-shouldered, wears a white coat and a broad-brimmed hat.’

‘So what?’ Her expression was cynical. ‘He takes off his hat and white coat, puts on a grey coat and doesn’t wear a hat. How many hundreds of short, broad-shouldered men walk about this city? You won’t ever find him unless I help you.’

I stared at her.

‘Why should you help me?’

Her face turned to stone and her green eyes narrowed.

‘Because he murdered my father.’ The words came in a hissing whisper.

‘Why?’

‘So J.W. could replace him. My father ran the Florida racket brilliantly. I was his secretary. We were very close.’ She leaned back and motioned to me to give her another cigarette.

‘You are a mafioso?’

‘Of course, but, now, I am also a worm in the apple. When my father died, I swore over his dead body to revenge him, and that’s why I need a man of guts.’ She leaned forward so I could light her cigarette. ‘Two worms are better than one, Dirk.’

I was absorbing all this.

‘You became J.W.’s secretary?’

‘Yes. He had no idea that I knew he had ordered my father’s murder. The killing was cleverly arranged: a hit-and-run driver in Miami. My father left me a letter. He knew J.W. was after his job, and he knew Minsky would kill him. I had been my father’s secretary for more than three years, and I knew far more about the racket than J.W. did. He was only too happy when I offered to work for him.’

‘Why did you do that? I would have thought you would have hated the sight of him.’

‘The worm in his polished apple.’ Sandra said with her evil smile. ‘For more than a year, I have waited my chance. I knew I couldn’t bring J.W. and Minsky down without help.’ She stared fixedly at me. ‘Now I have found a man of guts. With your know-how, I can revenge my father and you your girl. We have a common cause.’

‘So what you are saying is that if Minsky is put out of action, J.W. will fall off his tightrope?’

‘Yes. Of course, the racket won’t stop. J.W. will be replaced. Someone like Minsky will continue to dig up dirt. No one can stop the organisation, but we two could stop J.W. and Minsky. That would satisfy me.’

I thought about this. I didn’t like the idea of working with a mafioso, but if it meant I could get at Minsky, I wasn’t going to be fussy.

‘Right,’ I said. ‘You can rely on me. What’s the first move?’

She studied me with her hard, green eyes.

‘You mean this, Dirk?’

‘You can rely on me.’

She nodded.

‘The first thing is to find Minsky. He reports to J.W. on the phone. He’s elusive. By now he’ll have heard from Smedley, and he will know that Smedley has talked. But he won’t know that you know he is alive. He could become careless. He won’t return to his rented apartment. He rented it week by week. It was just a roof while he was in the city. The reason why Smedley lived there was a front. Someone had to pay the rent and live there. Minsky will have no trouble finding another roof. We’ll have trouble finding him.’

‘Do you think he could be holed up on the yacht Hermes?’

She stiffened.

‘Who told you about the Hermes?’

‘I’ve been asking around, Sandra. Never mind who told me.’

‘He won’t be there. The yacht is only used as the payoff station. J.W. only goes there on the first of the month. He collects the money, then sails for Miami. Yachts aren’t Minsky’s scene. He likes plenty of space.’

‘How do you know?’

‘My father told me. At one time Minsky worked for him.’

‘You can give me a description of him, can’t you?’

She shook her head.

‘I’ve never seen him. I’ve only heard him on the telephone. He has a strong Italian accent.’

‘He must have a girlfriend.’

She thought.

‘Yes. Once when J.W. was talking to him on the phone, he asked how Dolly was. She could be Minsky’s girlfriend.’

My mind switched to Dolly Gilbert, the whore, who lived at the Breakers condo. If she was Minsky’s girlfriend, no wonder she was so frightened when I had mentioned Hank Smedley. Possibly, Smedley was cheating on Minsky and screwing Dolly. This was worth a long, careful look.

‘Do you know where the new drop is going to be?’ I asked, keeping my face deadpan. ‘Now the Black Cassette no longer exists, the blackmail victims will have to be told where to deliver their pay-offs.’

‘I don’t know, but I will find out.’

‘Minsky is certain to show up on the first of the month to collect the blackmail money. We have eight days. Find out where the new drop is to be. I’ll stake it out if I haven’t found him first.’

‘Yes.’ She nodded. ‘Leave that to me. I’ll telephone you. Give me your number.’

‘It’s in the book. One more thing, Sandra, do you know why Angela Thorsen is being blackmailed?’

‘No, I don’t. Minsky keeps the records. All J.W. is interested in is getting the money.’

‘You mean to tell me that J.W. has no idea of the names and the sins of the people from whom he gets a million and half each month?’

‘Why should he? He relies entirely on Minsky. He doesn’t want to bother with details. He’s running a big drug ring, and that keeps him busy. He leaves the blackmail racket to Minsky.’ She looked at her watch. ‘I must go. J.W. will be back soon.’ She regarded me. ‘I can rely on you, Dirk?’

‘You can.’

‘I have a charge account here. Give me five minutes,’ and she started to move to the door, then paused. ‘When you have found Minsky, don’t kill him.’ Her green eyes flashed, and again her face became as if carved out of stone. ‘That is going to be my pleasure,’ and with a wave of her hand, she left me.

When I left the Three Crab the time was pushing 01.00. There was nothing I could do until tomorrow morning. I drove home. Bill had already gone to bed, so I went to bed myself. I dozed fitfully, my mind busy with the facts Sandra had given me, but finally I slept.

Over a 10.00 brunch, I told Bill what I had learned.

Stirring his coffee, he looked questioningly at me.

‘So what now?’ he asked.

‘I am going to fix Minsky,’ I said. ‘Then I’m going to fix Angie. I want you to keep with Angie. I want to find out a lot more about her than I know now. Stick with her, Bill. Find out what she does. Where she goes. She just can’t stay in the little cottage. I want to know who she meets, who she contacts. OK?’

‘Sure, but what are you going to do?’

‘I’m going to the Breakers condo to talk to the janitor. Maybe Minsky is holed up with Dolly. Whatever he’s doing, wherever, I’m concentrating on Minsky.’ I finished my coffee. ‘OK, Bill, you stick with Angie. See you tonight,’ and I left him to drive to the Breakers.

The time was now 11.00. I found the janitor in the basement, supporting himself on his broom handle and staring into space. His pig-like face brightened when he saw me.

‘Ah, you again,’ he said. ‘Did you find Zeigler?’

‘No. I’m looking for someone else. Have you seen a short, thickset man who wears a white coat and a broad-brimmed hat?’

He leaned more heavily on his broom handle.

‘I see a lot of people coming in and out of this dump.’

‘I’m not interested in a lot of people: a short, thickset man who wears a white coat and a broad-brimmed hat.’

‘Maybe,’ he said and stared at me for a long moment. ‘I could have seen him.’

I took out my wallet and produced a ten-dollar bill.

‘This help your memory?’

He snapped the bill out of my fingers, kissed it and put it in his dirty sweatshirt pocket.

‘Yeah. He’s Dolly’s pimp. Comes here from time to time. I guess he collects money from her.’ He moved the brush aimlessly in a sweeping movement. ‘I ain’t supposed to talk about people, living here, mister. They wouldn’t like it.’

‘They won’t know about it if you don’t tell them.’

He scratched his hairy arm.

‘I guess you’re right.’

‘Give me a description of this man.’

‘No, mister. He wouldn’t like that. I wouldn’t want to get in trouble with him.’

I produced another ten-dollar bill, folded it and raised my eyebrows.

He stared at the bill.

‘That for me?’

‘Could be. I want a description of this man.’

He thought, then nodded.

‘Like you said. Short, tough looking. I only saw him twice, and that was enough. His face looked as if someone had trodden on it when he was a kid: flat nose, sloping forehead: a face that would scare anyone.’ Again he eyed the bill I was holding. ‘That is for me?’

‘His hair? Dark or blond?’

‘I wouldn’t know. He’s one of these freaks who shaves his head. I guess that’s why he wears a hat. He’s as bald as an egg.’ He continued to eye the bill I was holding. ‘Shaved off his eyebrows too.’

At last! I thought, I now had something to work on. I gave him the bill.

‘How often does he come here?’

The janitor shrugged.

‘I wouldn’t know. I don’t often have the time to be in the lobby. He was here last night. I was putting the trashcans out when I saw him come in. For all I know he could be still with his whore.’

‘OK,’ I said. ‘See you later,’ and I left him. I climbed the stairs to Dolly Gilbert’s apartment. I approached silently and cautiously.

Hanging on her door handle was a notice:

I moved to the door, and with my ear pressed against the door panel, I listened. Faintly, I could hear voices: a man’s voice, then a woman’s voice. I guessed they were in the bedroom. I walked down the stairs, then out onto the street to where I had parked my car. I got in the car, lit a cigarette and prepared myself for a long wait. I had nothing else to do, and I was used to waiting.

I waited for two long boring hours, then as my watch showed 13.40, I saw Dolly come out with a short, thickset man following her. Dolly was wearing a paper thin imitation leopard coat and head scarf. I scarcely looked at her. My attention was riveted on the man.

Wearing a black sports cap with a long peak, a black windcheater and white slacks, I had no doubt that this was Hula Minsky. His hairless, brutal face was frightening. His broad shoulders, short thick legs, gave him the appearance of a savage gorilla.

Looking at him, knowing he was responsible for Suzy’s death, I had to control myself not to pull out my gun and kill him.

He walked with Dolly a few yards, then stopped by a dark green Caddy, unlocked the driver’s door and slid under the wheel. He let Dolly in on the off-side.

I started my car engine, waited until he had pulled out, then moved after him. He drove onto the lower end of Ocean Boulevard, then turned down a side street and pulled up outside an Italian restaurant. The doorman came fast across the sidewalk to open the car door. He saluted as Minsky got out. I drove slowly by. I watched in my driving mirror. Minsky and Dolly entered the restaurant.

I found parking at the end of the street and walked back on the other side of the street. I came on a sandwich bar and entered. I sat on a stool by the counter where I had a good view of the restaurant opposite. I ate two beef and pickle sandwiches and then ordered coffee. An hour later, and after I had had three more coffees, I saw Dolly come out and walk away, heading back to the Breakers. I paid my check, then wandered out into the street. Passing the Caddy, I made a note of its number plate, then walked to where I had parked my car. I got in and waited, watching my driving mirror.

I had a half-hour wait before Minsky appeared. With him was a tall, thin man wearing dark glasses. He had on an open neck shirt and jeans. His hair was long, reaching to his shoulders, He had on a black straw hat, pulled well down, screening his face.

The two men got in the Caddy. Minsky at the wheel, drove by me as I started my car engine. I waited until he reached the end of the street, then I drove after him.

At the end of the street, turning right, I came onto Seaview Avenue which was congested with traffic. No driver would give way to me, and after sitting, cursing, for over four minutes I realised I had lost Minksy. The lights changed and there was a break in the traffic. I drove onto Seaview Avenue, then cut to the Neptune Tavern. Spotting Al Barney, sitting on his bollard, nursing a can of beer, I parked right by him.

When he saw me, his fat face brightened. I slid out of my car.

‘This is a quickie, Al,’ I said, and stuffed a twenty-dollar bill into his dirty sweatshirt pocket. ‘A tall, thin man, long black hair, wears a black straw hat and sun goggles. Who is he?’

Barney flinched.

‘Poison. Keep clear of him, Mr Wallace. Sol Harmas. He handles Walinski’s yacht.’

‘Where do I find him?’

Barney looked furtively to right and left.

‘You’re going to be the death of me, Mr Wallace,’ he muttered. ‘He owns the last bungalow on the Seaview Avenue. When he’s not on the yacht, he’s there.’

‘Thanks, Al,’ I said, got back into my car and drove towards Seaview Avenue. I had a long wait before I got onto the avenue. Cars were crawling towards the beach: girls in bikinis, boys in swim trunks, all car radios blasting pop. I finally drove slowly with them to the far end of the avenue which gave onto sand, palm trees and the sea.

As I crawled by, I took a long look at the last bungalow before the beach took over.

The bungalow was more like a ranch house. Maybe five bedrooms and a big living-room. It was protected by a high wire fence, and at the entrance gates two tough looking men in white drill, guns on their hips, stood, chewing gum.

I pulled into a parking bay and waited until the boys and girls ran screaming and yelling towards the sea.

When there was a lull, I drove back slowly, again passing Sol Harmas’ pad. This time, near the entrance to the place, I saw another man in white drill, leaning against a tree with a police dog at his feet.

I drove on, fairly certain that Hula Minsky was holed up in this heavily guarded place. To get at him, I thought, as I drove against the traffic, I would have to wait until he came out.

Finally, away from the traffic, I pulled up beside a call box and put a call through to the Spanish Bay Hotel. I asked to speak to Miss Sandra Willis.

‘A moment, sir,’ the girl said.

There was clicking, then Sandra came on the line.

‘Who is this, please?’

‘Can you talk?’ I said.

‘Quickly. He’s on the terrace.’

‘Can we meet?’

‘Six o’clock. The Three Crab.’ Then her voice hardened. ‘I am sorry, you have the wrong number,’ and she hung up.

I assumed Walinski had come into the room.

I returned to my car and did some thinking, then I drove to police headquarters.

I found Tom Lepski at his desk, scowling at a flimsy he was holding. Two other detectives were at their desks, hammering out reports.

‘Hi, Tom!’ I said and smiled at him. I pulled up a chair and sat, facing him. ‘Busy?’

He gave me his hard, cop stare.

‘Where were you last night around midnight?’

‘If you must know I was stuffing my gut with a girlfriend.’

‘Who? What’s her name?’

‘Come on, Tom,’ I said. ‘You know you can’t ask a question like that. Why do you want to know where I was?’

He snorted.

‘Just come in.’ He shook the flimsy. ‘Miami police report that they have fished the body of Hank Smedley out of the harbour. He’s been shot through the back of his head.’

I felt a wave of satisfaction run through me: one down, now two to go: Angela and Minsky.

I put on my surprised expression.

‘I wonder who did that?’

‘Anyone but you, huh?’

‘That’s correct,’ I said. ‘Well, that ape is no loss. I looked in for information, Tom. First, have you found anything further about the acid job?’

He looked away from me.

‘A dead-end. I’m sorry, Dirk. You know what we know, then nothing.’

‘Know anything about Sol Harmas?’

‘You mean who captains Joe Walinski’s yacht?’

‘That’s him.’

‘No record. What’s he to you?’

‘Tom, I’m not leaving this acid job alone. Suzy was my future wife. I’m collecting information, and when I have something concrete, I’ll come to you.’

He nodded.

‘Give us some evidence, and we’ll go into action.’

‘Harmas?’

‘Lives in style. Has guards. We have nothing to pin on him.’

‘Next question. What do you know about Hula Minsky?’

Lepski stiffened, staring at me.

‘What’s that bastard to do with you?’

‘I am certain he was the one who used the acid spray. The description fits him, and he let Smedley run his apartment. The two of them fixed Suzy.’

‘Proof?’ Lepski demanded, leaning forward.

‘Not yet, but I’ll get it, then you’ll get it.’

He shook his head.

‘Look, Dirk, you don’t know what you are walking into Minsky is really dangerous. I know how you feel about Suzy. You’re probably right that Minsky did the acid job. That’s his style, but he’s smart. You won’t pin anything on him. Why not forget it? Smedley is dead. So, OK, you are more or less even. Keep out of this for crissake.’

‘You do know that hundreds of citizens in this city are being blackmailed? Maybe you don’t know the take is over a million and a half a month.’

He gaped at me.

‘We know about the blackmail racket. As big as that? How do you know?’

‘I have informers, Tom. They talk to me when they wouldn’t talk to you. Now, listen. On the first of every month, the blackmail victims pay up. The big shots pay their money to Smedley. The small fry go to Walinski’s yacht around three in the morning. Their money is collected there. At that hour, the waterfront is deserted except for the two waterfront cops who are in Mafia pay. Get rid of those two, and replace them with two sharp cops with the authority to question anyone wanting to go aboard Walinski’s yacht. Could pay dividends, Tom.’

‘Smedley’s joint doesn’t now exist. So what?’

‘There’ll be a new drop. I’ll let you know where it is.’

Lepski took his hat off, ran his fingers through his hair, then replaced his hat.

‘I’ll have to talk to the chief.’

‘That’s what I want you to do. Let’s have some action. The first of the month — another seven days.’ I shoved back my chair and stood up.

Lepski stared at me.

‘Leave Minsky alone,’ he said. ‘He’s too big for you, and almost too big for us to handle.’ Lowering his voice, he went on, ‘There are many big shots in this city who would rather pay out than have their dirty lives exposed Remember that!’

‘As if I didn’t know. Tell me, Tom, are your people doing anything to crack this blackmail racket?’

‘A well-organised blackmail racket.’ Lepski said quietly, ‘is the hardest nut to crack. We do know Walinski handles it, but that doesn’t mean a thing. We need three or four victims to complain to us, and then, and only then, can we start some action. Suppose we strike lucky? Suppose we get three or four men to admit they have done something bad, and are being blackmailed? They won’t, of course, but if they did, they would be fished out of the harbour like Smedley before we could get them to court.’

‘So you’re doing nothing?’

‘That’s about it, Dirk. We’re doing nothing.’

‘Change those waterfront guards. You could upset this blackmail thing.’

‘I’ll talk to the chief.’

‘See you, Tom,’ I said, and left him.

I had time to return home. Bill wasn’t there. I guessed he was watching Angela Thorsen, which might be boring but shouldn’t be too strenuous, so I didn’t feel too conscience stricken in doing something I hadn’t done in years, it seemed — put my feet up, shut my eyes, and thought of nothing, except maybe a lot of black sheep jumping over a very high fence. Much refreshed, I took a quick shower, changed, and then drove to the Three Crab Restaurant. I arrived three minutes to 18.00.

I was welcomed by Wally, the maître d’ who flashed his teeth at me.

‘Miss Willis is waiting for you, Mr Wallace,’ he said. ‘You know your way up?’

At this hour the restaurant was alive with waiters, laying tables and generally preparing for the dinner time rush.

I nodded, climbed the stairs, knocked on the door and found Sandra sitting at the table, cigarette between her slim fingers.

‘Hi, Dirk!’ she exclaimed. ‘This has to be a quickie. He’s only out until seven.’

I sat down opposite her.

Again I was more aware of her sexual vibes. She looked stunning in a sky-blue dress, and her green eyes were hard and calculating.

‘I’ve seen Minsky, and I think I know where he holes up,’ I told her.

This produced a big reaction from her. She leaned forward, her green eyes flashing.

‘You’ve seen him? How?’

Briefly, I told her what the janitor had told me, how I had seen Dolly leave with a short, broad-shouldered man, wearing a sporting cap, how I had followed them to an Italian restaurant, and then when Dolly had left, the man I was sure was Minsky had come out with another man.

I told her this man was Sol Harmas. The two had driven along to Seaview Avenue where I had lost them.

‘Yes!’ she exclaimed. ‘That’s where he is! The ranch house! J.W. had the place built at my father’s suggestion. It’s security proof. There’s no way of getting at Minsky so long as he’s there — not a chance!’

‘So, OK. We wait. He’ll come out, then we go into action.’

‘He’s certain to come out on the last day of the month, then we go into action. Yes, that’s when we get at him.’ Her smile was the most evil thing I ever hope to see on a woman’s face.

‘You haven’t seen him. I have. When he shows, what do you suggest?’

‘We grab him. I want him alive. I want him to suffer.’ Her face was again like a stone mask.

‘I’ve seen him. Grabbing Minsky would be like trying to catch a tiger with a butterfly net.’

She got to her feet.

‘There are always means. I’ll think of something. J.W. is going to New York for three days. We meet here on Thursday.’

Thursday would be the day before the first of the month.

I nodded.

‘OK here.’

She nodded, then, patting my shoulder and giving me a small, hard smile, she left.

I sat for some moments thinking, then I went down to where I had parked my car and drove home.