Lady—Here's Your Wreath

CHAPTER THREE

SOMEONE WOKE me up by punching the front-door bell. I love that. Some guy always wakes me up just when I’m getting friendly with my dream blonde. That dame certainly is a nice little twitchet.

I dragged myself out of bed and padded across the two rooms to the front door.

A special messenger was leaning up against the door, humming Cole Porter. He looked at me, then at the envelope he was holding.

“Nick Mason?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I said. “Let’s have it, you mother’s nightmare.”

He gave me the envelope and I signed. Then he stood there waiting to pick up something. He’d got a hope. If he thought I was giving him anything he was crazy. I only hoped he’d fall downstairs on his way out and break his neck. I started to shut the door.

“You won’t get any place in that sleepin’-suit,” he said, and made a dash down the corridor. Maybe he thought I’d give him a poke in his puss.

I went back to the bedroom and took a look in the long glass. The kid was right. That sleeping-suit was terrible. I sat on the bed and ripped open the envelope. Five crisp thousand-dollar bills spilt on my knees. No letter—just the dough. I sat and looked at them for a few minutes. That’s one thing I can always do—sit around, looking at money. Then I put the money back in the envelope and put the envelope on the table.

There was a catch in this, of course. I’d got to start right now and earn that dough. I wandered into the bathroom and took off the sleeping-suit. The cold prickle of the shower made me feel good. Once I got through with the wet part of getting up, I always tried my hand at singing. Maybe I wasn’t so good, but I’d got a lot of power. I wrapped the towel round my waist and shaved, then I wandered back into the bedroom with the idea of having a drink to help me on the final task of dressing.

Two things struck me as soon as I entered the bedroom. There was a heavy smell of scent hanging around that certainly hadn’t been there when I left the room, and the envelope had gone.

I moved quickly. Dropping the towel, I grabbed my dressing-gown and struggled into it, running into the sitting-room as I did so. The front door was ajar. I raced to the window and threw it up. The street was deserted. I thought I caught a glimpse of a yellow taxi flashing round the corner, but I wasn’t sure. If it was a taxi, it was moving like hell.

I went back to the bedroom and stood sniffing. I’m not one of those guys who can classify a smell quickly, but I knew this stuff all right. It was the kind of scent hot mammas used to get the boys running in circles.

Right then, I was running in circles. I was as mad as a blind man at a strip tease. I went over to the telephone with the idea of getting the cops, then a thought struck me and I sat down to think about it.

Those dollar notes had looked mighty nice, and now some dame had nicked them. I was feeling mighty sore.

After a few quick drags from the rye I felt better, and I got myself dressed. All the time I wondered what the devil I was going to do. The sooner I started in on this the better. I locked up the apartment and went downstairs for my breakfast.

I ordered two lightly boiled eggs, toast and coffee. I was just getting down to serious eating when the guy who rented the apartment opposite walked in. This guy gave me a pain. There are some guys who just can’t help giving anyone a pain. You don’t know why… they try like hell to put themselves across, but they stick.

I tried to hide behind my newspaper, but I was too late. He came across with an odd expression on his face and sat down.

He said, trying to look shocked, “You didn’t ought to have girls in your place, Mason; it gives the building a bad name.”

I said, “You’re kiddin’ yourself. The place had a bad name long before I moved in. Besides, I don’t know what you’re talking about. What’s all this about dames?”

The waitress came up just then and took his order for tomato-juice and toast. When she had gone, he spread himself over the table. “I saw her when I was getting the paper,” he said. “She came out fast, just like she had been chased out.”

I thought: if I’d seen her, she’d come out faster than that.

“You’re nuts,” I said. “Soon as I saw you, I thought your liver had been shot to hell.”

A look of doubt crossed his face, then he came back again. “You can’t kid me,” he said, with an attempt to leer. “She was some baby… a real hot mamma.”

I finished my coffee and lit a cigarette. “Do you often get like this?” I said anxiously. “I bet you’ll even be able to describe her to me.”

“Sure I can,” he said. “She was tall, blonde, with a make-up that just knocked me. She wore black, and had a large black felt hat, and a gold something or other round her neck. She was moving fast, but I’d know her any time.”

I got to my feet, pushing the chair away with the back of my legs. I looked down at him in concern. “You gotta do something about this,” I said. “You go an’ see a croaker… you’ve been seeing things.”

I walked out of the restaurant, leaving him snorting. Once I was on the street I walked slowly, picking my way through the crowds milling to work.

So she was blonde, tall and dressed in black. A sweet job to look for a dame with that description. Still, she’d got my five grand, and I was going to find her or bust.

Maybe Ackie would know where she fitted in. I turned into a drug-store and rang the Press room, but he wasn’t there. They thought he was over at Hank’s pool-room having a game, but they weren’t sure.

I took a taxi down to Hank’s, but he wasn’t there either. They thought he’d show up, so I spent a little time practising shots on one of the tables.

I never managed to get the knack of the game, but it interested me, and whenever I got near a table I just had to push the balls around. I got so interested in-a cannon-shot that seemed to be going just right that I lost count of the time. After I had broken my combination up, I thought I’d better give Ackie a miss and get on to the street again. As I was moving, a long, thin dope, dressed like a mock member of the upper crust, wandered in and stood watching me.

He said suddenly, “What about a little game with a dollar or so on for interest?”

I’ve met these dopes before. They look so damn dumb, you think it’s a shame to take their dough, but once they’ve raised the ante to twenty-five bucks they make the ball do everything but eat a four-course lunch.

I put the cue on the table and shook my head. “I’m through,” I said. “You go an’ get some practice.”

He picked up the cue and began potting the red. I expected him to make a hell of a mess of it, but he just went ahead and gave one of the finest exhibitions of shooting I’d ever seen. He slammed the balls into the pockets from every angle, and I just dug them out and rolled them back to him. He got a spin working that made the ball float round the table, and then he finished up with a real snorter that sunk the three balls with one shot.

“I see you’ve been a beginner some time,” I said, thinking I was lucky not to have played this guy.

He leant over the table to dig out a ball, and his coat shifted up over his hip. I saw the handle of a gun sticking out of his hip-pocket. “Me? I’m punk,” he said. “I just like pushin’ the balls around.”

I took a close look at this guy. He still looked a dope, but when you examined him closely, his eyes gave him away. This guy was tough. He’d got a hanging lip that gave him the soft look, but his eyes were suspicious and hard.

He was quick to see my interest, and he leant against the table and began to clean his nails with a pocket-knife. “Ain’t seen you around before?” he said, his voice rising a little, making it a question.

I shook my head. “Just looked in for a pal,” I told him. I wondered who he was, so I thought a little harmless talk wouldn’t waste my time.

“I guess I’ve seen your face before,” he said, without looking up.

“Yeah? Maybe you have.”

“You wouldn’t be Mason, the news writer?” He overdid it. He knew who I was.

“Sure,” I said. “Maybe you’ve seen my photo somewhere.”

“Yeah.” He folded the knife and put it in his vest-pocket. “Yeah, maybe I have.” He gave me a long, hard look, then, tossing the cue on to the table, he walked out.

I watched him go thoughtfully. I couldn’t quite get the angle. I went over to the bar. Hank was polishing glasses. He was a big guy with red, curly hair and tremendous hands and arms.

“Who’s the dope?” I said, jerking my head towards the door.

Hank shrugged. “Search me,” he said. “What’ll you have?”

“Ain’t you seen him before?”

“I don’t remember.”

Just then Ackie came in. When he saw me he grinned.

“What the hell are you doin’ here?” he said, crowding up to the bar. “Two ryes and ginger,” he said to Hank.

“I wanted to see you,” I said, “so I looked in on the off-chance.”

Hank put the rye in front of us. He beamed at Ackie. “You all right, mister?” he asked.

Ackie leant forward and patted Hank’s arm. “Me? I feel fine, couldn’t be better.”

It looked like these two knew each other, so I tried again.

“That guy who was play in on the table over there… who was he?”

Hank stopped laughing. His little eyes shifted like quicksilver. “I tell you I don’t know him,” he said.

Ackie looked at me, then he looked at Hank. Ackie was a smart guy. He saw the set-up without being told. “Spill it, Hank… this guy’s a pal of mine,” he said.

“I tell you I don’t know.” Hank was getting angry. “I can’t waste all my time with you gents… I gotta get on with my work.” He walked to the far end of the bar and began polishing glasses down there.

Ackie looked after him thoughtfully and poured himself another rye. “What’s it all about?” he asked.

I shrugged. “Maybe it’s nothing. I was pushing some balls around an’ some guy offers to play me. I turned him down, an’ while he was showin’ off I spotted a gun in his pocket. Then he asked if my name was Mason, took a hard gander at me and beat it. I was just wondering who he was. This bar bozo knows who he was, but won’t say.”

Ackie frowned. “What’s this fella like?”

“A tall, thin bird, with a hanging lip and cold, hard eyes. He looked a dope, but I guess he was tough all right.”

Ackie’s eyes narrowed. “.This guy know how to handle a cue?”

“Sure, he’s the hottest thing I’ve seen.”

“That’s Earl Katz,” Ackie said. “Well! Well!”

I shook my head. “That’s a new one on me.”

“Yeah, you wouldn’t know him. He’s a bad guy all right. One of Lu Spencer’s gunmen.”

I put my glass on the bar with a sharp little click. “Lu Spencer?” I said.

Ackie nodded. “Yeah… looks to me like they’re watchin’ you already.”

“What makes Hank get the jitters about a dope like that?” I asked.

“Katz a dope?” Ackie wagged his bullet head. “You’re crazy. That guy’s as deadly as a rattlesnake. Don’t go gettin’ ideas about him. Why, Hank and the rest of us are scared sick of him.”

I took another poke at the rye. “Well, I don’t mind telling you,” I said quietly, “that guy ain’t goin’ to make me nervous.”

Ackie shrugged. “You wait till you know him,” he said.

I glanced round the room, but the place was still empty except for Hank, who was keeping away from us. I lowered my voice. “I had a little adventure last night. A dame dropped in and pinched some dough off me.”

Ackie looked interested. “You mean she came in and took your roll or somethin’?”

“I was havin’ a shower and she got in, knocked off a nice slice of my rent and skipped without me seein’ her. A guy who lives opposite me saw her go. I’m tyin’ her up to this business, an’ I wondered if you might know who she was.”

Ackie looked incredulous. “Why the hell should I know?”

“Can you fit in a dame that’s blonde and dresses in black? Wears a big felt hat and looks like a real hot mamma?”

Ackie shook his head. “Why should you tie her up to the Vessi business?” he asked.

I wasn’t going to tell him that, but just as I was getting set to air off my imagination he got it. Ackie had a lot of brain under his hat. “Jeeze! That’s a howl,” he said, smacking his thigh and giving one of his grunting laughs. “You got paid, huh? They slipped you the ten grand already, an’ someone pinches it.” He leant against the counter and hooted.

When he’d got through with his fun, he mopped his eyes with his sleeve and grinned at me maliciously. “Gee! That’s tough,” he said. “So a blonde hotcha got away with your dough.”

I said “Yeah,” and gave myself another drink. “Suppose you cut out the sympathy and bend your brains on this. Can’t you give me a lead on the blonde?”

Ackie shook his head. “What do you take me for? Think I know all the blondes in town?”

I said slowly, “It wouldn’t be Vessi’s moll, would it?”

Ackie looked suddenly uncomfortable. “Listen, Nick,” he said, “I like you, but I’ve got to keep out of this… do you understand? You go ahead if you want a funeral on your hands, but you’ve gotta keep me out of it.”

“All right, all right,” I said, “Forget it. I’ll look into this on my own.”

Ackie nodded. “You’re the sorta guy who might crack this without gettin’ hurt.”

A nice line in comfort this guy had got, I thought. I looked at my watch. It was getting on for lunchtime. “Okay, Mo,” I said, “I’ll be seeing you.” I left him giving himself another rye.

I stood on the kerb thinking. It was a theory of mine to take the fight always to the other guy. I was not quite sure if I was going to be right this time. Maybe I’d start something that I couldn’t finish. I didn’t know. Then I thought I might as well go ahead and see what happened, so I signalled a taxi and told the driver to take me to the Hoffman Building quick.