Hit Them Where it Hurts

Eight

It was well after 22.00 when I heard Bill unlock the front door. I had spent time, a glass of Scotch in my hand, doing some heavy thinking.

The rain had set in, and I could hear it beating against the windows. I got to my feet as he came rushing in, ready to make a stiff drink for him, but one look at his face, as he stood in the doorway, his mac shining with rain, made me pause.

‘Don’t say a word!’ he exclaimed. ‘I want to eat! I want a steak as big as your desk! Come on. Let’s go!’

‘Calm down, Bill. We have things to talk about.’

‘That’s what you think. I’m starving. For eight hours, I’ve been sitting in the rain with only a hot dog to eat. I’ve had it up to here! We don’t talk: we goddam eat!’

Knowing Bill, I put on my mac, locked up, then went with him to his hired car.

It wasn’t until forty minutes later, in which time Bill had demolished a king-sized steak smothered with fried onions and a stack of french fries, that he began to look human again instead of a starving refugee.

I had been nibbling at a crab salad, watching him. When I saw he was beginning to relax, I said, ‘So it’s been rough, Bill. Anything to report?’

‘Not yet,’ he said, and ordered a double portion of apple pie.

So I waited with growing impatience.

Finally, finished, he sat back and grinned at me.

‘Man! I certainly wanted that!’

‘I asked you if you had anything to report,’ I said, at the end of my patience.

‘Sorry, Dirk, but I was starving,’ he said. ‘Yes, plenty to report. I’ve been watching Angie’s cottage since eleven o’clock this morning. I didn’t see a sign of her. Around midday, Mrs Smedley came out with a shopping basket and took off in the Beetle. Then ten minutes later Angie appeared. It was raining quite hard. She was wearing jeans and sweatshirt and the big sun goggles. She began to walk around the garden, getting soaked. From where I was sitting in the car, a good hiding place, I could look down on her. She paced around the garden like a caged wild cat. I could faintly hear that she was talking to herself. Every so often, she would stop and bang her head with her clenched fists. It was an unpleasant sight. Two or three times, she would shake her clenched fists in the air, then go on walking and talking to herself. She behaved as if she was out of her mind. Then she returned to the cottage, slamming the door.

‘I sat there. Then Mrs Smedley returned, carrying a heavy shopping basket. Nothing happened for the next two hours, then action really started. I heard hysterical screams coming from the cottage. The screams really got to me. They were eerie and blood chilling. I rushed down to the cottage and looked through the living room window. Man! What a scene! Mrs Smedley was in a corner and Angie was creeping up on her. She had a big carving knife in her hand. Mrs Smedley looked calm. She was talking. Then Angie screamed, “I want you out, black bitch! I want Terry!”’ He paused, then went on, ‘This setup looked straight out of a horror movie. There was this crazy looking girl with the knife, edging towards Mrs Smedley who was pressed against the wall. I ran to the front door and leaned against the bell. Angie who was still screaming she wanted Terry, stopped screaming. I kept leaning on the bell. After some minutes, the door opened and Mrs Smedley, her face running with sweat, glared at me.

‘“Excuse me,” I said. “I’m from the Reader’s Digest. I was wondering...” I got no further. She slammed the door in my face. I waited a minute or so, then peered through the living room window. Angie was sitting in a chair, hammering her head with her clenched fists. The knife was lying on the floor. Mrs Smedley picked it up and took it into the kitchen. Then she came back and caught hold of Angie. She gave her a slap across her face that seemed to knock Angie unconscious, then she carried her out of my sight. So I returned to my car and sat and waited, but there was no further action. Well, that’s it, Dirk. Angie is a real nut case and should be put away.’

‘She kept screaming for her brother?’

‘That’s it.’

‘Josh told me the sun went out of her life when her brother left. What’s happened to her brother? Where is he? I’ve felt all along Terry is the key to unlock this puzzle.’

‘So, OK. What’s the next move?’

‘I’m going to talk to Mrs Thorsen. She’s the only one able to certify Angie. The two people who could give real information are Josh and Hanna Smedley. Sorry, Bill, but you get back to watching the cottage. I’m going to Thorsen’s place. With luck I’ll be able to talk to Mrs Thorsen.’

Bill groaned.

‘If you say so. OK. Then let’s go.’ As we were leaving the restaurant, he asked, ‘How long do you want me to watch the cottage — all night?’

‘You nose around, Bill. See what’s going on. I’ll join you after I’ve seen Mrs Thorsen. Stay right there until I arrive.’

We got into our respective cars and headed for the Thorsen residence. I parked some yards from the gates while Bill drove up the narrow lane to the cottage.

As I walked up the drive in a fine drizzle of rain, I saw the big house was in darkness except for a light in Josh Smedley’s room.

Mrs Thorsen was obviously out. I hesitated for a long moment, then decided I would again talk to Josh. The time was 21.30. Maybe she would be returning soon, I thought, as I pulled the bell chain. I had to do this four times before the door opened.

Josh stared at me.

‘The detective gentleman?’ he said. ‘Mrs Thorsen is out.’

‘I want another talk with you, Josh,’ I said, and shouldered my way into the lobby.

Passing me, he plodded unsteadily down the corridor to his room. I could see he had been hitting the bottle hard. He entered his room and sat down. There was a bottle of Scotch and a half-full glass on the table beside him. He folded his black hands in his lap and regarded me with glazed eyes.

‘You heard about Hank?’

‘Yes, Mr Wallace. Well, I warned and warned him, but he only laughed at me. He thought he would be looked after. I pray he is now at peace.’

‘You have told me that Terry and Angie were very close,’ I said. ‘Tell me just how close.’

‘I don’t understand, Mr Wallace.’

‘Think about it, Josh. How close?’

‘She worshipped him. When he went to the music room to play, she would sit on the stairs outside the door and listen. That’s how close.’ He shook his head sadly, then took a gulp at his drink. ‘When Mr Terry left home, she changed. She became difficult. My wife was the only one who could handle her.’

‘I am working on the theory that because her father made life impossible for Terry and drove him away, Angie, in her mental state, decided that if her father was dead, Terry would come back home. Do you agree with this thinking?’

He moved uneasily in his chair.

‘I don’t know what went on in Miss Angie’s mind.’

‘I think Angie deliberately stirred up a quarrel with her father, a violent quarrel, bad enough to bring on a heart attack, and then pushed him so that he fell, striking his head.’

He sat motionless, staring into space.

‘You heard what I said, Josh. I think Angie killed her father so her brother could return home. I think someone saw it happen and that is why she has been paying blackmail, Josh, through Hank Smedley, your son.’

He heaved a heavy sigh, looking up at me from under heavy brows.

‘You are wrong, Mr Wallace. I have to tell you, you are wrong. There was a quarrel, a violent one, but Miss Angie went away before her father collapsed. Only I saw that happen. I heard their angry voices but when I went in he was alone and struggling to get his tablets from his desk, the tablets he had to take in a bad attack. I saw him and he saw me. I found the tablets.’

‘Yes?’

‘I found them and took them away. He collapsed, and his head hit the desk. I didn’t touch him. I went out. When I came in again I found him like I told them. Dead, and that is how I killed him.’

I stared at him for a long moment.

‘Do you know what you are saying, Josh? You killed Mr Thorsen?’

He nodded.

‘Yes, sir, I say I killed him, because I let him die.’

‘But why?’

He sat still, staring into space, then he said, ‘It goes back a long time, Mr Wallace. I have served Mr and Mrs Thorsen for some thirty years. When she married, I came with her. I was a good butler. Mr Thorsen was pleased with me. It wasn’t until my son was born that my troubles began. Hank was always in and out of real trouble. I asked Mr Thorsen if he would let Hank take care of the garden. He agreed, and gave him a small salary. For a time, Hank liked doing the garden, and he did it well. He seemed to be settling down. Then Miss Angie began to fool around with him. She was about 13 years of age. Hank was 16. It got serious, Mr Wallace, and Mrs Thorsen found out. Hank was sacked. From then on Hank was in constant trouble with the police. He had six months in jail.’

Josh paused to sip his drink. ‘Then my wife and I began to quarrel: always about Hank. This so upset me, I began to drink. I guess I got hooked. Then, one day, Mr Thorsen sent for me. He told me I had been so long in their service, he was leaving me five thousand dollars in his will. That may not seem to you a big sum, but to me it was a fortune. Time passed with Hank always in trouble and I drank more and more. Then Mr Thorsen found me drunk. He gave me notice to quit at the end of the month, and he told me he was cutting me out of his will. This was a terrible blow to me. As I’ve told you, Mr Thorsen was a hard man. To leave this lovely house...’ He lifted his shoulders in a despairing shrug. ‘Then Hank came to see me. He told me if he could get five thousand, he would be able to open this club. He asked me if I could give him the money. I told him I had no money like that. He said not to worry, he would rob a bank. I was sure if he did he would be caught and spend years in jail. I told him to wait a few days. I guess I hit the bottle hard. If Mr Thorsen died, I would continue with my job as butler and I would be able to give Hank the money he wanted. Mrs Thorsen would never give me notice to quit. So when Mr Thorsen died as I have told you, with Miss Angie coming in like the hand of providence, I kept my job and got the money. It was a bad thing to do. Hank’s now dead.’ He regarded me with glazed eyes. ‘My only wish now is also to be dead.’

I got to my feet. I didn’t want to hear any more. Looking at this wreck of a man, I felt sorry for him.

‘The coroner’s verdict was natural causes,’ I said. ‘I’ve already forgotten what you have told me. So long, Josh. I won’t be seeing you again.’

He sat there, staring at the Scotch in his glass. I didn’t know if what I had said had sunk into his drink sodden brain. I had the feeling his wish would soon be granted.

I left him like that and walked down the long drive in the drizzling rain to where I had parked my car.

The lights of Paradise City made a rainbow of colour against the sullen, rain swollen clouds. I wasn’t impressed. I had seen it all before. I stood by my car, listening to the distant roar of the traffic, watching the headlights as cars moved along the boulevards.

I unlocked the car door and dropped into the driving seat, out of the drizzle. I sat there thinking of Josh Smedley. What a loving father would do for a worthless son! I shrugged. I now wanted to see Bill and to hear if anything was happening at the cottage. As I was about to start the car engine, I heard a sound that made me pause. The sound was an ambulance siren that grew louder, and a moment later an ambulance followed by a car swept by me and turned into the narrow lane leading to the cottage. I caught a glimpse of two men in the car. Knowing Bill was up there, I decided to stay put and not confuse the situation. I lit a cigarette and waited. It was a long wait. Some forty minutes later, I began to lose patience, then a chauffeur driven Rolls swept by me. I saw Mrs Thorsen sitting at the back. The Rolls turned into the narrow lane. I decided to keep out of it. I lit yet another cigarette and waited. Another dreary half hour crawled by, then I heard the ambulance siren start up. Moments later, the ambulance appeared and went racing off towards the city, followed by the car with the two men. I guessed they were doctors.

I still waited, then after twenty minutes the Rolls appeared and drove towards the Thorsen’s residence.

I started my car engine and drove up the narrow lane. From time to time, I flashed my headlights to alert Bill I was on my way.

As I approached the gate to the cottage, I saw Bill who waved to me. I pulled onto the grass verge as he ran to my car. He slid into the passenger’s seat and slammed the car door.

‘Go ahead, Bill,’ I said. ‘Tell me.’

‘I saw the action through the living room window.’ Bill said. ‘Man! Plenty of action! I guess I arrived at the right time. Mrs Smedley was sitting. I felt sorry for her. I guess she was trying to decide what she would do. After a time, I saw the living room door slowly open and Angie appeared. She had got hold of the kitchen knife again. She began to creep towards Mrs Smedley. She looked out of her mind and vicious. I never want again to see anyone looking like that. She gave me the horrors. I was about to break the window and yell to Mrs Smedley when she must have sensed her danger. For a woman built like a Jap wrestler her reaction was impressive. As Angie was coming at her, Mrs Smedley was on her feet, had the knife away and gave Angie a clout that knocked her across the room. She then pounced on her and carried her into the bedroom, out of my sight.

‘She was out of sight for a good ten minutes, then she returned to the living room, picked up the telephone receiver and dialled. I guess she was calling for help, and believe me, she certainly needed help. Then Angie began screaming again, but I guess Mrs Smedley had tied her up. She kept screaming she wanted Terry. Mrs Smedley’s phone call got a lot of action. In twenty minutes, an ambulance...’

‘I know,’ I said. ‘I saw them arrive. What happened?’

‘They brought Angie out on a stretcher and away they went. Then Mrs Thorsen arrived She talked to the two doctors, then they left. While this was going on, Mrs Smedley stood, leaning against the wall, listening. Mrs Thorsen started talking to her. I couldn’t hear what she was saying, but from the expression on her face what she was saying wasn’t pleasant. Then she opened her handbag, took out two 500 dollar bills and threw them on the table. That’s it, Dirk. It’s my guess Mrs Thorsen told Mrs Smedley to pack up and go.’

‘OK, Bill. Stick around. I think this could be the right moment to talk to Mrs Smedley.’

I left the car. It had stopped raining, so I took off my mac and threw it on the back seat of the car, then I walked to the front door of the cottage. I pressed the doorbell, then, finding the door unlocked, I entered the small lobby, then walked into the living room.

Mrs Smedley was sitting in a heap in an armchair. She looked up, stared at me, then nodded.

‘You! What do you want?’

She didn’t look or sound hostile so I sat down in a chair near hers.

‘You have been told by Mrs Thorsen to pack up and leave. Is that right?’

She nodded.

‘That’s right, and I’ll be glad to go. I have had enough of the Thorsens. I’m going back to my people. For the first time in twenty years, I feel free to do what I like.’

‘I am glad for you,’ I said in my most soothing voice. ‘Before you go, Mrs Smedley, will you tell me about the Thorsens? I want to know why Angie was being blackmailed. Do you know?’

She stared at me for a long time while she was thinking; then she shrugged her massive shoulders.

‘Yes,’ she finally said. ‘I guess I need to talk to someone before I leave. I want all this off my mind before I return to my people. I have four brothers and three sisters. They’ll all welcome me. I come from a big family. If it wasn’t for Miss Angie, I would have gone to them years ago. I nursed Miss Angie from the moment she was born. I knew she was a little crazy. I helped her a lot. I did everything for her, and she loved me for it. Her mother never did a thing for her. Miss Angie worshipped her brother. They got along fine together until he began to grow up, then I saw he was getting tired of her. She wouldn’t leave him alone. I warned her, but she wouldn’t listen. Then he started this piano playing. He would lock himself in the music room and she would sit outside, listening. She was mad about his playing. Then he and his father had a quarrel. Mr Terry left home. He didn’t even say goodbye to Miss Angie. It was a terrible shock to her, and from then on, she became more and more crazy in the head. I had a bad time with her, but I did manage to control her. Then Mr Thorsen died suddenly and left her all this money and this cottage. She moved into it at once. She hated her mother. She did nothing. She would sit in a chair all day, staring and muttering to herself. I guess I made a mistake. I should have told Mrs Thorsen to get a doctor, but I disliked Mrs Thorsen, and I hoped to pull Miss Angie out of this mood, so I kept trying to get her interested in the garden, to do something around the home, but she took no notice. This went on for a week and I was making up my mind to get help when a man arrived.’

Mrs Smedley paused to wipe away the sweat that was running down her face. ‘He didn’t ring the bell. He just walked in. I was in the kitchen, preparing dinner. He sat where you are sitting and took off his hat. He was completely hairless and had the face of a devil. I was just coming out, when I heard him say he knew where Terry was, so I waited and listened. Miss Angie completely changed. She became alive. “Where is he?” she demanded. This man told her brother didn’t want anyone to know where he was. He was being a success with his piano playing. He told Miss Angie her brother sent her his love. Then the business. This devil of a man told her her brother was under his protection. “I don’t protect people for nothing,” he said, “I want you to go to the Black Cassette club on the first of every month with ten thousand dollars. As long as you continue to do that, your brother will be protected by me. If you don’t, someone will break your brother’s hands with a hammer, and he will never play again. You have the money. I have the protection”.’

Mrs Smedley paused again to wipe the sweat off her face. ‘This was ten months ago, Miss Angie said she would pay. This devil of a man told her where to find the Black Cassette. He said all she had to do was walk in with the money on the first of every month. She would find an old friend, waiting. The old friend was my no-good son. May he never have been born!’ She thumped her knees with her clenched fists. ‘I tried to talk to Miss Angie. She wouldn’t listen. I tried to warn her this man was a bluffer. I said it wasn’t likely he did know where Mr Terry was. She wouldn’t listen. She kept screaming, “To break those wonderful hands with a hammer.” So every month, she went to the bank, got the money and gave it to my no-good son. Doing that seemed to give her more peace of mind. She wasn’t so difficult. There was nothing I could do about this, so I just looked after her.

‘Then, soon after, this hairless man came again. I listened from the kitchen. He said if Miss Angie gave him a hundred thousand dollars, he could fix it for her to meet her brother. Then you came, telling her you were looking for her brother because he had inherited a hundred thousand. You told her all he had to do was to go to the bank and they would pay him. Miss Angie wanted this money so she could see Mr Terry again. Into her crazy mind came the idea of finding someone to impersonate Mr Terry, get the money, and she would give it to this hairless man and finally see her brother. She went to Hank who found someone. You know what happened. She came back here in a terrible state. She behaved like a vicious, wild animal. She scared me. I shut myself in the kitchen. She kept screaming, “I’ll fix that sonofabitch. He must have a girlfriend. I’ll talk to Hank. I’ll fix him good.” Then she left in her car. I didn’t see her for three or four hours When she returned, she was much calmer. “I’ve fixed him,” she told me. I had no idea what she was talking about until I read in the paper about the acid attack.’ She shuddered ‘I’m sorry, but she’s not in her right mind.’

I thought of Suzy: the acid, the pain, the truck smashing into her.

‘And Angie?’ I asked. ‘What’s going to happen to her?’

Mrs Smedley lifted her vast shoulders in a gesture of despair.

‘She’s being put away in a nut-house — they call it a mental clinic. I listened while the two doctors talked to Mrs Thorsen. They said Miss Angie was beyond recovery. There was no hope for her. The only thing to do was to keep her under drugs and locked up. Mrs Thorsen told them to go ahead. Miss Angie now might as well be dead.’

There was nothing more I wanted to hear: nothing more I wanted to know. I got to my feet.

‘If there is anything I can do to help you, Mrs Smedley, just tell me. I have a car outside. Can I drive you down to the city?’

She stared at me, then shook her head.

‘I don’t need anyone’s help. Go away! I’m going back to my people.’

I left the cottage, and stood for some minutes in the garden, feeling the humid heat and hearing the distant sound of the traffic.

Hank was dead. Angie was locked away for life. Two down: one to go.

Hula Minsky!

I knew I would never rest until I had fixed that hairless ape. When that happened, this cold fury inside me for revenge might die. Suzy might become a wonderful memory. Stupid hopes? Could any revenge blot out Suzy’s last moments of life?

I walked to where Bill was waiting.

‘We’ll go home and talk,’ I said.

I got in my car. He got in his and we drove to my apartment.

Bill made coffee while I gave him the complete picture about Angie and Terry and Minsky, but about Josh I had given my word, so I kept my mind and my mouth shut.

‘Well, there it is, Bill,’ I said. ‘Tomorrow I see Sandra. All I’m interested in is to fix Minsky. I’m going to bed.’

I stunned myself to sleep with three sleeping pills.

It was while I was finishing a solid brunch breakfast that Bill had prepared that the telephone bell rang.

The time was 11.15. Both of us had slept heavily. The sound of the bell made me wince.

I picked up the receiver.

‘Dirk Wallace,’ I said.

‘This is Sam, Mr Wallace, the Neptune Tavern. Mr Barney wants to see you. He says it’s important.’

‘Where is he, Sam?’

‘He’s here, having his breakfast. He says he’ll wait.’

‘I’ll be along in twenty minutes. Thanks for calling, Sam,’ and I hung up.

I told Bill.

‘You stick around,’ I said. ‘I’m off.’

‘Hold it,’ Bill said, a snap in his voice. ‘I’m sick of sticking around. I’m coming with you. I’ll stick around in the car if I’m going to stick around anywhere.’

So, leaving the breakfast debris on the table, we went down to the garage and I drove to the Neptune Tavern.

Leaving Bill in the car, I crossed the waterfront and entered the tavern. I found Al Barney seated at his special corner table, wiping his plate clean with a piece of bread.

I sat in a chair opposite him. He regarded me, then nodded.

‘You want breakfast, Mr Wallace?’ he asked.

I said I’d already had breakfast and did he want a beer?

‘I never say no to a beer, Mr Wallace.’ He signalled to Sam who came racing over with a beer and a plateful of the lethal sausages.

After he had swallowed half the beer, he set down the mug, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, threw into his shark-like mouth three of the sausages, then relaxed back in his chair.

‘Mr Wallace, I am a man with his ear to the ground. I don’t ask questions. I listen. So OK. You told me you were interested in Terry Zeigler. So I listen. You still interested?’

‘Yes, Al,’ I said.

He threw three more sausages into his mouth, chewed, grunted, then leaned forward, his peppery breath fanning my face.

‘The man you want to talk to is Chuck Solski. He was a drug pusher before the Mafia took over. From what I hear Zeigler was a close pal of his. Solski needs money. If you spread some dollars in front of him, he’ll tell you what happened to Zeigler. You’ll find Solski at 1 °Clam Alley, top floor. That’s the best I can do. OK?’

‘Thanks, Al.’ I took out my wallet, but he waved it away.

‘We’re friends, Mr Wallace. I don’t take money from friends.’

I shook his clammy hand.

‘Thanks again, Al.’

I returned to my car where Bill was waiting I told him what Al Barney had said.

‘I’ll see if this guy is home.’

‘Clam Alley? That’s at the far end of the waterfront. It’s a condemned slum. I’ll be surprised if anyone is living there. The few apartment blocks are going to be torn down.’

‘How do you know?’

Bill gave a sly smile.

‘Barney isn’t the only one who keeps his ear to the ground. No point in walking. We’ll drive.’

With Bill at the wheel, we drove slowly along the waterfront, now packed with tourists. Finally, he pulled into a parking slot.

‘Clam Alley is just ahead.’

‘You certainly know this district,’ I said as I got out of the car.

He walked with me.

‘I’ll stick around, Dirk,’ he said. ‘That’s number 10 facing us.’

Clam Alley was the worst slum I have ever seen. There were four five-storey blocks. Every window in these blocks was smashed.

The door to number 10 hung drunkenly open on one hinge. I edged into the filthy, stinking lobby, littered with rubbish. Bill followed me.

‘For God’s sake!’ I exclaimed. ‘Surely no one lives in this cesspit.’

Facing me were stairs.

‘Al told me he’s on the top floor,’ I went on.

‘Watch it, Dirk,’ Bill said. ‘Those stairs look rotten. You could break a leg.’

I started up the stairs that creaked as I climbed. The door to the first apartment hung open. It was empty and filthy. I climbed to the second floor. The same empty apartment. The third floor was the same. Whoever had lived in these hovels had gone. Finally, with Bill behind me, I reached the top floor. The stink of the place was stomach turning. Facing me was a door that was closed: the only door in this ghastly building that was closed.

I rapped on the door and was greeted with silence. I rapped again, still silence. I tried the door handle and the door creaked open, I moved cautiously into a small attic room. Bill remained outside, looking through the open doorway.

I’ve seen slums in the Negro quarters in West Miami, but nothing like this dreadful little room. It contained a packing case to serve for a table, two stools and a bed. The litter of past meals, newspapers, and other muck covered the floor. The room was a hellhole of squalor.

Lying on the bed was a man. He lay on sheets that hadn’t been washed in years. The man and the bedding matched the awful squalor of this room.

I moved towards him, paused by his side and stared down at him. He was wearing a pair of filthy, tattered jeans. He was as thin as a skeleton. His matted black hair fell to his shoulders. His beard hid most of his face. At a guess, I thought he was around 35 years of age. He gave off the body stink of a man who hadn’t washed in months.

He seemed to be sleeping.

I hated to touch him, but I took hold of his arm and gave him a violent shake.

‘Hey! Chuck!’ I bawled in my cop voice. ‘Wake up!’

His eyes snapped open and he stared at me, then he swung his spindly legs off the bed onto the floor.

‘Who the hell are you?’ he demanded, his voice husky. He was now sitting upright.

‘I’m a guy with money to spend,’ I said, stepping away from him. ‘I want information from you.’ I took out my wallet and produced two one-hundred dollar bills. ‘These interest you?’

He stared at the bills as if I was showing him all the gold in Fort Knox.

He ran his fingers through his matted hair. I kept well away. I didn’t want to collect any of his lice.

‘Jesus! I want money!’ he muttered. ‘I need money!’

‘I need information, Chuck. We can do a deal.’

‘What information?’

‘Are you OK? You don’t look it. Can you think straight?’

He sat there for several minutes, staring down at the filthy floor. I could see he was pulling himself together. Then, finally, he looked up and nodded.

‘I sleep a lot,’ he said. ‘There’s nothing for me to do but sleep. When I sleep, I hope I won’t wake up, but I still do. I always wake up and find myself in this goddamn hole. I haven’t the guts to jump into the harbour. At the end of the week, they are coming to knock this rat hole down. I don’t know where I am going. I’ve come to the end of my line, but the goddamn line won’t finish.’

‘Chuck, I want information from you, and I’ll pay two hundred dollars for it.’

‘What do you want to know?’ He regarded me. ‘You ain’t a cop, are you?’

‘No. I want to find Terry Zeigler.’

He sat there, scratching his awful mop of hair while he continued to stare at me.

‘Why?’ he finally asked.

‘That’s not your business, Chuck. I’m offering you two hundred dollars to tell me all you know about Zeigler and where I can find him.’

He grimaced.

‘Is that right? Suppose when I tell you, you spit in my face and walk out with the money?’

I tossed a hundred-dollar bill into his lap.

‘You’ll get it, Chuck, so start talking.’

He fondled the bill.

‘Jesus! I need this,’ he muttered. ‘Know something? I haven’t eaten for three days.’

‘Start talking about Zeigler,’ I barked. ‘Come on, Chuck. The stink in this room is killing me.’

So he started to talk.

I sat on the packing case that served as a table and listened.

He told me he had met Terry at the Dead End Club. They became friends. As he was on the needle himself, he realised that Terry was also hooked. This made a bond between them. Chuck was trying to promote a moneymaking drug business. He could get the stuff, but he failed in pushing it. He talked to Terry about this who said he was willing to try. During the afternoons, Terry would go out and sell the stuff. He was a big success. He had many contacts with the kids. They all loved his piano playing. Between them, Chuck and Terry, they worked up a flourishing business. Chuck got his supplies from an old Chinese, Terry sold the stuff.

‘It looked super good,’ Chuck said, vigorously scratching his head. ‘We were both making money. I had a nice pad and lived on my own. Women have never interested me. Terry had a good pad and he had Liza, his girlfriend, to live with. Then, just when we thought we were set, we ran into a real problem. As usual, on a Monday, I went to my supplier to get more of the stuff. I walked into his office and found Hula Minsky at the desk.’ He paused, then went on, ‘Do you know Minsky?’

‘I know,’ I said. ‘Skip him. So...?’

‘The sight of that ape scared the shit out of me,’ Chuck said, and shivered. ‘OK. I’m on the needle and I have no guts. He told me my drug racket was finished. He said to tell my pal to lay off pushing — that was Terry. I was so scared of him, I would have kissed his feet if he had told me to do it.’ Chuck ran his filthy hand through his filthy beard. ‘I knew Terry was with Liza. I telephoned him and told him what Minsky had said. Terry said not to panic, but we would get together. He said he was coming to my pad. He moved in with a couple of suitcases. We talked it out. The supply had dried up. I couldn’t afford to pay for my pad. We both had blown our money away. I told him I would have to move out. He said we must look for another supplier. He didn’t give a shit about Minsky. I told him I was through. You don’t buck an ape like Minsky.

‘Terry said he would find another supplier. I didn’t want anything to do with it. Terry was stubborn. He kept saying the hell with Minsky. I warned him, but he wouldn’t listen. I remember him staring at me. He said he had more than fifty kids waiting for their fix. He wasn’t going to let them down. I told him the hell with the kids, but he wouldn’t listen. He said he had got these kids on the needle and he was going to feed their habit. He said he couldn’t do anything else. I gave up. He took off, and he found another Chinese who could supply him. He got the stuff and sold it to the kids. I knew something would happen. I wouldn’t have anything to do with it. I wouldn’t take any of the money he made. I am so gutless, I just sat in my pad, shivering with fright. This went on for a week, then it happened. I knew it would. I kept warning Terry. He was telling me how much money he had made, and the new supply would be at the end of the week, when the door was kicked open and there was Minsky with two thugs. It happened so fast, I don’t remember what did happen. I was lying on the floor, covering my head with my arms. There were awful noises: bones breaking: horrible noises. That was the end of Terry. I had warned him. Then Minsky kicked me. He said as I had done what he had told me to do, I could forget it. He said I was lucky to be alive. Then the door slammed. I got up and looked around. Terry was gone. I had warned him. You don’t fool around with an ape like Minsky. You want to know where Terry is? My guess is his smashed-up body is in a cement overcoat and at the bottom of the sea. They smashed him to bits and took what was left of him away. There was nothing I could do. I hadn’t any money. I moved into this God-awful room. It was for free. I’m waiting to die. That’s what I want — to die.’

I had no compassion for this derelict creature as I had for Josh Smedley. A mindless jerk who could make a profit selling heroin to kids deserved everything that came to him.

I stood up, dropped the other one hundred-dollar bill on the bed beside him and joined Bill, waiting in the corridor. We made our way cautiously down the rotting staircase and into the fresh, humid air.

As we walked to our car, Bill said, ‘I heard all that. I guess that takes care of Terry. The Thorsens certainly produced a couple of beautiful children.’

I paused to unlock the car door.

‘It happens. The Thorsens weren’t exactly beautiful parents either.’

We got in the car and sat for a long moment in silence, then Bill said, ‘OK. Hank is dead. Angie is locked away. Terry is dead. That leaves Minsky — right?’

‘That’s it,’ I said. ‘Up to now we have had it easy, but Minsky won’t be easy. In a couple of hours, I’ll be seeing Sandra. I want to hear what she has got lined up. Tonight is the night for action.’ I started the car engine. ‘Let’s go home.’

Wally, the maître d’ of the Three Crab Restaurant welcomed me with his flashing smile.

‘Miss Willis is expecting you, Mr Wallace. You know your way.’

I nodded, climbed the stairs, knocked on the door and entered.

Sandra was sitting at the table. Before her was a large cocktail shaker and a spare glass.

‘Hi, Dirk!’ she exclaimed. ‘Help yourself,’ and she waved to the cocktail shaker.

I sat down, facing her.

‘Not right now,’ I said, regarding her.

She was in white and her thick black hair fell to her sun-tanned shoulders. Her green eyes sparkled as she stared back at me. I decided she was the most sexy, evil looking woman I hope never to meet again.

‘And — so?’ She poured herself another Martini. ‘What have you to tell me?’

‘J.W. will be short ten thousand dollars on the pickup,’ I said.

She stiffened.

‘How and why?’

Briefly I told her about Angie Thorsen.

‘No more money,’ I concluded. ‘Your people can’t threaten a woman in a mental clinic.’

She leaned back in her chair and released a hard, metallic laugh.

‘This will topple J.W. The organisation will fold him up and replace him.’

‘I don’t give a goddamn about J.W.,’ I said. ‘I’m only interested in Minsky.’

‘Yes.’ She grimaced. ‘I’ve been checking. He’s a rat who knows how to take care of himself. I wanted to get him to myself and kill him by inches to repay the death of my father, but this now is not possible. When he moves, he has bodyguards. There is only one way to fix Minsky. I have an automatic gun. I’m going to rip his filthy guts out with bullets. It’s the best I can do.’

I shook my head.

‘No. I don’t like it. It is suicidal. You don’t imagine his bodyguards will let you get away with this. You kill him. OK, I can see you can take him by surprise, but the bodyguards are certain to kill you.’

She gave me her evil looking smile.

‘No, Dirk. They won’t dare touch me. Every member of the organisation knows me or knows of me. They know I am J.W.’s right hand. J.W. is in New York. He will be returning tomorrow night. When he hears I have killed Minsky he will turn his thumb down, but by then I will be a long way out of his reach. I’ve already packed. As soon as I have fixed Minsky, I take off. I’ll get lost, and the organisation won’t find me. You don’t have to worry about me. If there is one thing I can do well, it is to look after myself.’

Looking at her stone hard face and those ruthless eyes, I nodded agreement. If anyone could look after herself, it was Sandra Willis.

‘Dirk,’ she went on, ‘you said you too wanted to get even with Minsky. I want you to finger him for me. You’ve seen him. I haven’t. I don’t want to shoot the wrong man. All you have to do is point him out to me — that’s all.’

I hesitated for a long moment. If I did this, it would make me an accessory to murder. Then I thought of Suzy. This brutal sonofabitch who had sprayed acid in her face had to be fixed.

‘No problem, Sandra,’ I said.

‘The new drop is now Fu Chang’s restaurant.’ Sandra said. ‘Minksy will be arriving to collect the loot around three in the morning. We’ll make sure of it. I’ll be in my car. I want you to be there. We’ll be there at two. So, OK, we will have a wait, but he just might be early. You finger him for me, and that’s all I want. I’ll handle the rest of it. OK?’

I got to my feet.

‘I’ll be there,’ I said. ‘I only hope your thinking is right.’

She picked up the cocktail shaker and poured herself another Martini.

‘My thinking is always right, Dirk,’ she said. ‘See you at two tonight. I’ll be in a Mercedes. I’ll be parked by the restaurant. All you have to do is tell me which is Minsky. OK?’

‘I read you,’ I said, and left her.

I joined Bill in the car.

‘Fu Chang’s restaurant?’ I asked as I slid into the passenger’s seat.

Bill snorted.

‘On its way out and fast. It’s a corner building on the east side of the waterfront. It started well, then Fu Chang, who must be shoving 90, lost his grip. Why the question?’

‘That’s the new drop.’ I went on to tell him of my talk with Sandra. ‘That’s the setup, Bill,’ I concluded. ‘At two o’clock this morning, we park as close as we can to Fu Chang’s joint. Sandra will be there in a Mercedes. I’ll join her. When Minsky arrives, I’ll finger him for her, then she blows him away. You stay put. If this works, she’ll take off, and we’ll go home, but if it doesn’t, we give her covering fire.’

‘If she kills Minsky and gets away, do you think we can go see the colonel and get our jobs back?’ Bill asked. ‘I mean, will you feel you have settled accounts for Suzy?’

I thought for a long moment, then nodded.

‘I guess so. Once I’m sure Minsky is dead, then you and I will go back to work.’

‘Fine. Now, let’s go eat.’ He started the car engine and drove me to Lucino’s special lobster and steak dinner. We ate in silence. Both of us were absorbed in our thoughts. As we ordered coffee, Bill said, ‘Do you think this is going to work?’

I lit a cigarette and pushed my pack to him.

‘This woman is very special. I think it will work, but if it doesn’t and she gets shot, then I am finishing the job. She says the bodyguards won’t dare to touch her. We’ll see. It depends on her. There’s still time for you to duck out, Bill. This isn’t your private war.’

He looked at me, then finished his coffee.

‘Don’t talk crap, Dirk. Let’s go home. We have three hours before action stations. I could do with a nap.’

As we drove along the waterfront, I spotted two young, tough looking cops, patrolling. Lepski had got some action. These two could make a dent in Walinski’s payoff.

When we got home, Bill went at once to his bed. I spent the next hour cleaning and loading our revolvers, then I too, dozed in an armchair.

At 01.45 I woke Bill, gave him his gun, and we drove back to the waterfront. Bill directed me.

‘That’s the dump,’ he said. ‘To your right.’

Fu Chang’s restaurant had certainly seen better days. Now it looked almost derelict. A few dim lights showed through the dirty windows. There seemed no activity. Above the door to the entrance there was a bright light, shining on the road as if in hope someone would be tempted to have a meal in there.

At this hour parking was easy. I pulled into a slot some thirty yards from the restaurant.

‘We could be in for a long wait, Bill,’ I said as I cut the engine.

‘That’s what we are good at, isn’t it?’ he returned and settled himself in the car’s seat.

As we watched, shadowy figures began to appear out of the darkness and then entered the restaurant: all kinds of people, mostly Cubans, some Chinese and a number of whites. They were in and out in seconds, and disappeared into the darkness. They were victims of the blackmail racket, paying their dues. There seemed a continuous stream of them.

A few minutes after 02.00, a small Mercedes arrived.

‘Here she is,’ I said. ‘OK, Bill, we’ll give her covering fire if there’s trouble. You stay here. I’ll go to her.’

‘If there is trouble Dirk,’ Bill said as I slid out of the car. ‘Do we shoot to kill?’

‘If we don’t, we’ll get killed. This sonofabitch just has to be fixed.’

I walked the few yards to where the Mercedes had parked. She was sitting at the wheel. In the darkness I could just make out her silhouette. I opened the car door and got in beside her.

‘Hi, Dirk!’ she said. ‘The big deal! I see the suckers are already arriving.’

‘Is this going to work, Sandra?’ I asked.

‘It will work.’ There was a note of finality in her voice. ‘Just relax, and we’ll wait.’

So I sat by her side, inhaling her exotic perfume while we watched people going and coming out of the restaurant.

We sat in silence for the next half hour. To me, she was a stone woman. I felt she didn’t want to talk. From time to time I fingered the butt of my gun. I had never killed anyone, but tonight I was ready to kill.

I thought of Suzy. I thought of her last moments of life. Those terrible moments, blinded by acid and being crushed by that truck. If Sandra couldn’t finish the job, then I would!

‘Here they come,’ Sandra whispered.

A big Cadillac came out of the darkness with only parking lights. It stopped outside the restaurant.

Four men spilled out: big, tall, each with a gun in his hand. It was like watching Cagney’s old gangster movies. The men spread out, looking to right and left. I already had my gun in my hand. Then Minsky appeared. He looked almost a dwarf against his bodyguards.

‘That’s him,’ I said. ‘The little punk.’

‘Thanks, Dirk.’ She got out of the car, slamming the door.

The sound made the four bodyguards look in her direction. Without hesitation, she walked to where Minsky and his guards stood, staring towards her.

‘Minsky?’ Her voice was clear and sharp. ‘I am Sandra. I have a special message for you from J.W.’

Then she appeared in the hard, overhead light.

What a performance! No hesitation and her looks! I’ve never seen a woman look so glamorous. She was wearing a scarlet and beige dress that clung to her. Her glossy black hair lay on her naked shoulders. She looked as if she had walked out of a Vogue photograph.

The four bodyguards lowered their guns and gaped at her.

I slid out of her car, keeping in the darkness. I looked across to my right and saw Bill was also out of my car.

The bodyguards moved back and Minsky stood there under the hard overhead light. He was staring at Sandra then his ape-like face lit up.

‘You Sandra?’ he said. ‘What’s biting J.W.?’

‘He has a special message for you,’ she said.

In the stillness of the humid night, I could hear her hard metallic voice.

‘So, OK, babe. What’s the message?’

She was carrying a big evening handbag. She was now within six feet of him.

‘I have it here.’

The bodyguards had moved further back as Sandra zipped open the handbag. Her movements were so professional and fast, Minsky didn’t stand a chance.

While Minsky was leering at her the gun was in her hand and she was shooting. At that range, Minsky got four bullets in his guts blowing him apart.

The four bodyguards just stood motionless. I lifted my gun, ready to give her covering fire, but she continued to handle the situation.

‘OK, boys,’ she said. ‘J.W. wants him off the scene. Get rid of him before the cops arrive.’

One of them, less thick in the head, said, ‘If you say so, Miss Sandra.’

She paused for a few seconds to look down at Minsky as he lay, bleeding and dead. Then turning, and without hurrying, she walked back to her car.

It was a cold blooded, beautifully staged performance.

I opened the door of her Mercedes and she got into the driving seat.

‘You see, Dirk? My thinking is always right. You get the hell out of this before the cops come.’ She looked searchingly at me through the open car window. ‘This evens the score, doesn’t it?’

‘Yes,’ I said.

She started the car engine.

‘You’ve seen the last of me.’

‘Watch out, Sandra. The Mafia has a long arm.’

She gave me her evil little grin.

‘And I have long legs. Bye.’ She shot the car away and went fast from the waterfront.

In the distance, I could hear police sirens. I paused long enough to see the four bodyguards snatch up Minsky’s body and throw it into the trunk of the Cadillac, then I ran to my car where Bill was sitting at the wheel. As I scrambled in, he took off, cut down a dark alley that brought us to the highway. He reduced speed and drove towards my home.

He said nothing.

Angie, Hank and now Minsky had been taken care of, I thought. There was nothing more I could do to level the score, but I knew for years I would think of Suzy, once so full of life and zest and fun, now so terribly dead. Nothing I had done would bring her back. Nobody would ever take her place.

It wasn’t until we had walked into my living room and shut and locked the front door that Bill said, ‘Quite a woman! That scene was highly professional. Let’s go to bed.’

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘The job’s finished. Thanks, Bill.’

He looked at his watch.

‘It’s after five,’ he said. ‘Let’s have a damn good sleep, and a damn good brunch, then we’ll see the colonel and get our jobs back.’

‘OK,’ I said.

He regarded me for a long moment, then he said, ‘Dirk, you have to forget it. No one should live in the past. It’s the future that matters. Tomorrow is a new day. Come on, let’s go to bed.’

In the big double bed, with the dawn light coming through the curtains, I thought back.

Revenge?

Hank gone, Angie locked away, Minsky gone.

I put out my hand and caressed the pillow by my side where so often Suzy’s lovely head had rested.

I didn’t sleep. I lay there watching the sun slowly rise, flooding the room with golden light.

Bill was right. I could not live in the past. I thought of what he had said, ‘Tomorrow is a new day.’

With that thought in my mind, with my hand still on the empty pillow by my side, I did eventually fall asleep.