Хал Эллсон - Masters of Noir - Volume 3

“Been busy, Nickie. Haven’t had time for night clubs. Haven’t even had time to call you on the phone, a nice old friend like you.”

“You really ought to call sometime.”

“Yeah, I really ought.”

“Why don’t you drop in tonight, Pete? You free tonight?”

“Matter of fact, I am. It’s a good night for slumming. Thanks for the invitation, Nickie.”

“Come up to the office, Pete. Say... two o’clock, eh? Love to see you. How’s two o’clock? I’ll clear the decks for you, pal.”

“Two o’clock. That’s fine.”

“See you, pal.”

I showered and dressed and looked at the gun and holster and decided to leave them behind. You could get killed like that, but Nickie wasn’t one to molest people, not when he’s invited them. The people might leave word as to where they were going and then Nickie would be involved, and Nickie was averse to being involved. In anything. Nickie had said two o’clock, so you were there at one-thirty, just for the hell of it.

The word was in again. In reverse.

The bartender winked and waved and said, “Long time no see.”

The bouncer with the belly said, “How are you, Mr. Chambers?”

I patted the belly and I said, “What the hell. Business is business. No hard feelings?”

“Not me, Mr. Chambers. I work for a living. I dish it out, and I take it. I got no complaints. How’s for a handshake?”

“Why not, pal?”

We shook and he squeezed my hand and then he said softly, “Tell you this, pal, off the record. When I got business, I bring it to you. And so do my friends. You’re a quick one, and I like a quick one. And you don’t take no guff, and I like a guy don’t take no guff.”

“Thanks, sweetie.”

He grinned a grin that was more gum than teeth. “Don’t mention it, sweetie.”

I went upstairs. Bonnie Laurie was on again and the customers’ eyes were riveted. I repeated my dimness-and-periphery bit, and I opened the door to Nickie Darrow’s office. I was early. Nickie Darrow wasn’t there. But the room wasn’t empty. Aunt Ethel came toward me, swaying slightly. Ethel Fleetwood, in a tight black off-the-shoulder gown that emphasized every curve and protuberance of her hour-glass figure, and let me state, once and for all, Aunt Ethel had what it takes, and more. Haul off that Bonnie Laurie, haul her off that floor, and substitute Aunt Ethel, and the customers’ eyes would remain just as riveted. Aunt Ethel leaned on me, and I enjoyed every inch of her. She said, “You too? I might have known.”

“Living it up, Aunt Ethel?”

“That Nick Darrow. He’s a terrible man. No compassion, no soul, nothing. Want to kiss me now, honey? You’re the cutest.”

“Take a rain-check, Auntie-love.”

“I’m in the mood.” She wasn’t drunk, but her eyes had more glare than a windshield on a desert.

Then the door opened and Nick Darrow came in. Quietly he said, “What the hell is going on here?”

Nick Darrow always spoke quietly. He was, as always, perfectly dressed. He was tall and lean and broad-shouldered. His hair was black, faintly tinged with grey at the temples. He had blue eyes rimmed within long black lashes. He was always serene, always composed, but always, a muscle in his jaw kept jumping. He said, “Mrs. Fleetwood, I’ve told you time and again — stay out of here.”

“I’m with a party, dearie, outside.”

“Then stay with your party.”

“Nickie dear, all I want is a small favor.”

“No favors from me, Mrs. Fleetwood. Now... out. Or I’ll have you thrown out.”

I clucked my tongue at him. “Is that the way to talk to a lady, Nickie dear?”

“Look, Petie dear. You keep your nose out of my affairs.” He went to her and took her arm. “Out. You’re a gorgeous dame, but out. Go join your party.”

“Will you help me, Nickie?”

“You mean you can’t find your way?”

“That’s not what I mean, Nickie.”

His voice roughened. “Out, Mrs. Fleetwood.” He opened the door, gently shoved her through, closed the door, and locked it. Then he turned to me. “You know what she wants?”

“I’ve got my figure.”

“Horse. Nose-candy. Heroin.”

“Well, for Horse, she’s come to the horse’s mouth.”

“Very funny, and very stupid. I run a night club here, period. Sit down, eyeball. We got talking to do.”

I sat.

He sat.

He said, “Where’s it tickling you, pal?”

“That kind of tickling, Nickie, I almost died laughing.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He sounded convincing. I said, “You on my back, Nickie?”

“Like how?”

“Somebody’s been blowing spitballs at me, Nickie. Any idea who?”

“No. Period.”

“Know a girl by name Trina Greco?”

“I’ve heard the name.”

“Got any interest?”

“I’ve never even seen her.”

“Has Johnny Hays ever seen her?”

“Yes. He’s seen her.”

“It’s beginning to add up, Nickie.”

“What’s beginning to add up?”

“Listen. Your Johnny buttonholed me a time back, while I was out with this Greco, and he told me to lay off that, and he told it to me — as a message from you.”

Darrow stood up and walked. “That ain’t the first time, the little punk. When he wants to scare a guy off... on his personal business... he uses my name. This on the level?”

“You ever know me not to be?”

“Okay. Thanks. That little punk is scratched from here on in. I’ll put him to work in a tank town. Don’t worry no more about Johnny Hays.”

“I never was worried about Johnny Hays. I was worried about you. That boy wouldn’t do any serious shooting unless you knew about it, would he, Nickie?”

“No.”

“Then who the hell’s on my back, and why?”

He walked some more, then he turned to me and smiled. “You got your headaches, kid, and I got mine. Let’s get to Sandra Mantell. I hear you covered up for me, and I checked that, and you did. Thanks.”

“You mixed up in a snatch, Nickie?”

“No.”

“Abner Reed?”

“He get heisted?”

“Yes.”

“I know him. Been a customer here. Married money-bags. She’s been a customer here. So’s her aunt and uncle.”

“Big heist, Nickie. This is off the record.”

“How much?”

“Seven hundred and fifty thousand. Big ones.”

The corners of his mouth turned down and his head nodded. “Big enough. I should have heard something. I didn’t. Was it paid?”

“All of it.”

“You sure?”

“I paid it.”

Now his glance held admiration. “You’re a hip guy. You’re always in on the big action. You have a piece?”

“I had nothing. But your Sandra thought she did.”

“What are you talking about?”

I told him. I told him a good deal of it. I stressed her phone call, and I brought it up to date.

He was very serious when he said, “Look, kid, for guys like me, the snatch racket is out. There are easier ways to turn a buck. Plus I had nothing to do with that Sandra Mantell killing. On that, I’m on your side. You covered for me, and I appreciate it, but it was a cover I didn’t want. After your call, I went down to Headquarters. Guy by the name of Parker is in charge, but he’d gone home. I talked to a Captain Weaver. I offered full co-operation. That’s that, and you can check it. On that Johnny Hays bit, I’ll take care of that. Now... is there anything else you want?”

“No, sir, Nickie, don’t want a thing.”

“Fine. Now go on outside and enjoy yourself. It’s on the house.”

“Thanks, Nickie. For tonight, I’ll pass.”

I went home and I went to sleep. I had my usual nightmares, but they didn’t waken me. I slept through most of the day. I heard the phone ring in my dreams, many times, but I let it ring. I stayed with my nightmares. When I awoke at four in the afternoon, I was cradled in perspiration. I bathed and I had breakfast and I read a book. A mystery. I hate them. But I stayed in. I didn’t want to go to the office. I wanted a clean day. One clean day. I didn’t want to mix in filth, and thievery, and murder. I wanted to be a small boy, and I wanted to believe that all men are good and all women are pure. I have those moments — even as you — and I wanted to live in my preposterous illusions for one solitary day. But the phone rang and I couldn’t resist it and I was glad because it was Trina.