Killing Orders

XXIV

IT WAS PAST noon when I woke again. Every muscle ached. I’d remembered to put the Smith & Wesson aside before going to sleep, but not the holster. My left side was sore from where the leather had pressed into my breast all night. My clothes stank. I’d fought Walter Novick in this shirt, put in a heavy stint of cross-country hiking, and slept in it. The smell bore acute witness to these activities.

I longed for a bath, but not if it meant redonning my repellent apparel. I picked up the Toyota and maneuvered its clumsy steering down the expressway to the Bellerophon. Mrs. Climzak gave me a darkling glance from behind the counter but forebore any criticism, so I gathered no one had tried burglarizing my apartment in the night.

It was only after a long soak in the stained porcelain tub that

I realized how hungry I was. Dry, reclothed, I stiffly descended the four flights of stairs.

What would the don’s reaction be to losing Novick? Would he be gunning for me, or would he realize Novick wasn’t salvageable and cut his losses? Only the Shadow knew. Just in case Pasquale was pissed, I braved Mrs. Climzak’s breathy protests and went past the front desk to explore the Bellerophon’s nether regions. The lobby’s back entrance led to a hallway where her apartment was situated. Her mules flopping, she scampered behind me like an angry hen. “Miss Warshawski! Miss Warshawski! What are you doing back here? Get out. Get out before I call my husband. Before I call the police!”

Her apartment door opened and the fabled Mr. Climzak appeared, in a T-shirt and baggy trousers. A day’s growth of beard helped hide his drink-reddened cheeks. He didn’t look as though he could throw me out, but he might be alert enough to call the police.

“Just looking for the back door,” I told him brightly, continuing down the passage.

As I undid the dead bolt, Mrs. Climzak hissed, “This is the last straw. You will have to find other lodgings.”

I looked at her before going outside. “I hope so, Mrs. Climzak. I certainly hope so.”

No hail of machine-gun bullets strafed me in the alley. Nor were any suspicious-looking cars hovering on the street. I found a Polish restaurant and ate heartily, if not healthily, of cabbage soup, chicken, dumplings, and apple tart.

I felt decidedly more human. Over a second cup of coffee, an idea began glimmering at the back of my brain. Preposterous. It would need Murray’s cooperation. And Uncle Stefan’s.

Illinois Bell, poverty-stricken by the AT &T dismemberment, had raised the price of pay phone calls to a quarter. After fishing for change, I reached Murray at the desk of the Herald Star. I’II gave him a big, huge story would he sit on it until it came to an end?

“Ain’t you dead yet, Warshawski? What am I supposed to do in exchange for this big huge story?”

“Run a couple of lines on the front page of the evening and morning editions.”

“I’m not the editor-I don’t control what goes on the front page. Or even page sixty-two of the middle section.”

“Murray! I’m shocked. You told me you were an important newspaperman. Can it be you lied? Can it be I have to go to the Tribune and talk to Lipinski?”

Grumbling, he agreed to meet me at the Golden Glow around five P.M. The schoolroom clock over the counter said two-thirty. Time to check things out with Uncle Stefan.

Another quarter to my answering service reminded me I hadn’t told Phyllis I wouldn’t be back to her place last night. Or Roger that I’d miss his board meeting. And Bobby wanted to see me to talk about Walter Novick. “Not your jurisdiction,” I muttered.

“What was that?” the operator said.

“Nothing. Any other calls?”

Dr. Paciorek wanted to talk to me. He’d left his paging number at the hospital for me. Frowning, I put another quarter in the machine. Twenty-five cents gets you three tries. Clicked from operator to operator at the hospital, I finally connected with Dr. Paciorek.

“Victoria! I was afraid you wouldn’t get my message.” His normally controlled voice was rough and human. “Could you come back to the house tonight? I know it’s a lot to ask. O’Faolin’s coming out-I’m going to settle this matter.”

I rubbed my eyes with my free hand. Would this upset my other plans? Dr. Paciorek breathed anxiously in my ear while I considered. Maybe I could put a little advance pressure on the archbishop. “I guess so. Can’t make it before eight, though.”

“Fine. Fine. Thanks very much, Victoria.”

“Don’t thank me for anything, Dr. Paciorek. This story is not going to have a happy ending.”

A long silence, then “I realize that” and he hung up.

Jim Streeter met me at Uncle Stefan’s door. “The doctors say the old man can be release4~tomorrow. He’s been trying to reach his niece. I guess she’s planning on taking him home with her. What do you want us to do?”

Of course he would be going home with Lotty, I thought in irritation. “I’d better talk to him.”

Uncle Stefan was delighted to see me, delighted to be going home. “And why are you frowning, my little niece? Aren’t you pleased for me?”

“Oh, certainly. Yes, I’m very pleased. How are you feeling?”

“Fine. Chipper. Yes, chipper.” He beamed proudly at producing this colloquial word. “Every day I go for physical therapy and every day I am stronger, walk farther. All I need now is chocolate.”

I grinned and sat on the bed. “I have a favor to ask of you. Please say no if you don’t want to do it, because there’s some danger involved. Not a lot, but some.”

He cocked a lively eye at me and demanded details. “Instead of going to Lotty’s, would you come home with me? I need you to pretend you’re dead for twenty-four hours, then arise from the grave with a flourish.”

“Lotty will be wutend.” He beamed.

“No doubt, if that means what I think it does. Console yourself with the thought that it’s me she wants to murder.”

He patted my hand comfortingly. “Lotty is a headstrong girl. Don’t worry about her.”

“You didn’t see a second man in your apartment the day you were stabbed, did you?”

He shook his head. “Just the-the thug.”

“Would you be willing to say that you saw him? He was there, you see. Just hovering outside until your thug had stabbed you.”

“If you say he was there, my dear niece, I believe you.”