Уильям Макгиверн - Rogue Cop

Beaumonte turned away from her, pulling his hand free from her arm. “You’re going back where I found you,” he said slowly.

“Dan, please!” She tried to turn him around but he shook her off with a twist of his big round shoulders. “Please, Dan! It was just a crazy joke,” she said, beginning to weep.

“Johnny, you know where Fanzo’s place is?” Beaumonte said to Stark.

“Yeah, sure, Mr. Beaumonte.”

Beaumonte drew a deep breath. “Take Nancy there, take her if you have to break her legs and carry her,” he said, in a slow empty voice. “You got that? I’ll phone him so he’ll have the welcome mat out.”

“Dan, what are you going to do to me?” Nancy cried, backing away from the two men. She brought her hands to her mouth and the bracelets on her wrists jangled noisily in the silent room.

Beaumonte looked at her then for the first time since he’d got to his feet. “Why did you do a thing like that with Ackerman watching,” he said thickly.

“I told you it was just a crazy gag.”

“I’m going to pay you off good,” he said. “You got no more loyalty in you than a stick of wood.”

“Dan!” she cried softly, as Johnny Stark put a massive hand on her wrist. Her eyes were wild and unbelieving. “You aren’t going to do this to me. It’s a joke, I know. Tell me it’s a joke, Dan.”

“Get her out,” Beaumonte cried. “Get her out of here.”

When they were gone, Beaumonte drew a deep ragged breath and began to walk about in small aimless circles. Finally, he stopped and went quickly to the bar. He made himself a brandy and soda, slopping the ingredients into the glass, and then sat down in a deep chair and stared at the long silent room. For several minutes he remained motionless, his body slumping forward slightly, and then he moaned deep in his throat and began to pound his fist slowly against his forehead. But the sound of her weeping stayed loud in his mind.

Carmody drove directly to his hotel, recklessly ignoring lights and traffic. It wasn’t quite six yet, but he knew that Ackerman would plan and act swiftly. The order might already be out, and that meant he had to find Eddie fast. But a dozen phone calls to his home, his district and his favorite bars, failed to turn up a lead.

Carmody rang Karen’s apartment and drummed his fingers on the table as the phone buzzed in his ear. Then the connection was made, and she said, “Hello?”

“Karen, this is Mike. Have you seen Eddie today?”

“No... What’s the matter?”

“If you see him, tell him to call me at my hotel. Will you do that? I couldn’t stall the big boys any longer. Tell him that, too.”

“Does that mean trouble?”

“Not for you, bright eyes. But it does for Eddie. If he calls you—”

The phone clicked dead. For a moment Carmody sat perfectly still and then he swept the receiver off the table. She was staying in the clear. There was trouble coming and Danny Nimo’s girl would take a warm bath, do her nails and keep nicely out of it. Well, what had he expected?

But underneath his anger there was a growing fear. He shouldn’t have tipped his hand to Ackerman; that spotted them a big advantage. Where in hell were his brains?

He needed help in finding his brother but he didn’t know where to turn. Anyone who knew this was Ackerman’s business would want no part of it. The men on his shift were his only bet, but it wouldn’t be easy to find them; his shift had started its three-day relief that morning and they might be out of town or visiting relatives. Some damn thing. Carmody tried Dirksen first, because he was the dumbest, but got no answer. Abrams’ daughter talked to him and said that her daddy had gone to the shore to do some fishing. Carmody thanked her and hung up. That left Myers. He put through the call.

Myers sounded as if he had been sleeping. “Hi, Mike. What’s up?” he said.

“I need some help. My brother’s in a little trouble and I’ve got to locate him. But I need a hand. How about it?”

“In a little trouble, eh?” Myers said cautiously.

“That’s right. Look, he lives on Sycamore in the Northeast. Number two-eighty. Would you stake yourself out there and grab him if he shows up? Tell him to call me right away at my hotel?”

Myers hesitated. “I was just going to take the girls to a movie. It’d be a shame to disappoint them.”

“Sure, I know,” Carmody said, rubbing his forehead. “But how about this? Make it tomorrow night and I’ll get all three of you tickets to the new musical. And dinner at the Park Club first. My treat.”

“A night on the town, eh? Sounds pretty fancy,” Myers said dryly.

“Well?”

“By the way, I got an envelope from Degget. Thanks.”

“Degget?”

“Yeah, the little character we had in that Wagner Hotel murder. He sent me fifty bucks. And a note. Did you read the note?”

“No,” Carmody said impatiently.

“Well, he said the smart detective told him I could use the fifty bucks.” Myers laughed shortly. “That’s you he meant. The smart detective.”

“What’re you getting at?”

“Yeah, you’re the smart detective,” Myers said, the words tumbling angrily from him. “And your brother’s in trouble with Ackerman’s bums and you want me to help you pull him out. Why don’t you go to the hoodlums? They’re your buddies, aren’t they?”

“Forget it,” Carmody said slowly. “I didn’t know you felt this way.”

“You wouldn’t know how I feel,” Myers said. “That would mean noticing me, asking me. But you’re too much a big shot for that. What the hell was that address?”

“I said forget it.”

“Give me that address. I’ll get it from the book if you don’t. I’m doing this for your brother. Because he’s a cop, a dumb honest slob like me. Not for you, Mike.”

“It’s two-eighty.” Carmody wet his lips. “Thanks, Myers.”

“Go to hell.”

The phone clicked. Carmody got to his feet, rubbing his forehead. What the devil had got into Myers? Had he been keeping this bottled up all these years? And what about the other men on his shift, and in the department? Did they feel the same way?

So what if they do, he thought, frowning and disturbed. It’s there to take. If they had the brains they’d take it, too.

There was nothing to do but wait. He tried all the bars, and Eddie’s home and district half-an-hour later but drew blanks. He left messages for Eddie everywhere to call him but that was all he could do.

The night deepened beyond his windows, moving slowly in wide black columns to the pink-gray streaks on the horizon. Lights came on in the tall buildings in the business district and the city spread out before him, a powerful exciting mass, cut through and through with white lines of traffic. Eddie was out there somewhere. Standing on a dark corner lighting a cigarette, swinging down a black alley on a short-cut to the district, stopping before a movie to look at the posters. And somewhere out there Ackerman’s killer might be starting slowly and carefully to work, asking questions, making calls, closing in on his brother’s trail. And all I can do is wait, Carmody thought.

When the phone rang the sound of it went through him like an electric shock. He crossed the room in three strides and jerked the receiver to his ear. “Yes? Hello?”

“Hello, slugger,” Beaumonte said with a laugh. “You pack quite a punch, or didn’t anyone ever tell you?”

Carmody was caught off balance by Beaumonte’s obvious good-humor. “Is that what you called to tell me?”

“No, this is business, Mike. I don’t like being knocked around but I’m going to forget it. There’s more at stake just now than a row between friends.”