Max Collins - Scratch Fever

He sat up. He could see himself in the dresser mirror. He looked bad — scroungy. But he looked at himself, pointed a finger at himself, and said, “Understand? Kill the fucker!”

There was a knock at the door.

He got up, took the gun with him just in case, cracked the door (there was no night latch), and it was a sandy-haired man in dark-rimmed glasses, big — not tall, but big — and good-looking, in a rough way. He was wearing a yellow sports shirt and tan slacks. Smelled of Brut.

“You’re Infante,” the man said.

“You’re Harold.”

“Right.” The big man turned and motioned to somebody in the car pulled in next to Infante’s jet-black Mazda. The car was a cream-color Porsche. Which said class. Which also said money. Maybe this wasn’t such a bad crowd to be in with after all, Infante thought.

A woman got out. She was wearing black slacks and a silky blouse, tits flopping. Handsome enough woman, he supposed. Nice clothes, anyway.

The. guy went to her; he had a fluid walk, like an athlete. Put an arm around her. He was a muscular sort — big shoulders. Works with weights. Infante bet.

The two of them came in.

Infante closed and locked the door and stuck the gun back in his waistband and said, “This place is a dump, in case you missed it.”

The woman, Julie, turned to him and smiled. It was an attractive smile, not that he gave a damn. “I’m sorry we couldn’t do better for you,” she said. “Gulf Port isn’t exactly Las Vegas, you know.”

“That’s not the way I heard it,” Infante said.

“If you mean the Paddlewheel, it’s not in Gulf Port proper. It’s a few miles from here, on the river.”

“You wouldn’t think people running a classy place like that would stick a friend in a dump like this.”

The man, Harold, sat on the bed. “Infante, this is only temporary...”

“Put me up in the Holiday Inn across the river, then, back in Burlington. I’m allergic to cockroaches.”

Julie touched his arm, and he batted it away.

“Excuse me,” she said, searching his face. “You see, we need to have you close at hand. We need you here.”

“Yeah, well, we’ll see.”

“I think we have mutual interests. Sit down, won’t you?” She gestured toward the space on the double bed, next to Harold. Infante sat down.

“Harold said your partner was killed,” the woman said.

“Yeah. Yeah he was killed. Goddammit.”

“This man Logan...”

“His name is Nolan.”

“Nolan, then. He did it.”

“Yeah he did it.”

“And you want even.”

“Of course I want even. What kind of guy do you think I am?”

She seemed to think about that for a moment, then said, “We’re going to pay you what we promised, even though you and your partner didn’t exactly... succeed.”

Infante sighed. “Look. I gotta admit something. Sally handled the business end. I don’t even know what you promised us. Sally was the brains, I have to say.”

The woman walked back and forth, slowly, thinking, smiling. “Then why don’t we just start over? Why don’t we pick a new figure? How’s ten thousand dollars?”

“Ten...”

“That’s a lot of money, isn’t it?”

“It sure...”

“Enough for you to disappear for a while?”

“Sure.”

“Then you’ll do it?”

“Do what?”

“Kill Nolan.”

“Try and stop me!”

“Oh,” she smiled, not pacing, stopping in front of him, “I’m not about to do that.”

Next to him, the big guy seemed glum. Sensitive face, Infante thought.

“Now,” she was saying, “when can we expect him to arrive?”

“Nolan? I’d say... couple days. Late tomorrow at the soonest.”

Harold said, “How do you figure that?”

“He’s got Family friends. He’ll want to check with ’em about who sent us. They’ll be able to find out too, pretty easy.”

“Couldn’t he do that with just a phone call?” Julie asked. “Couldn’t he be on his way here right now?”

“I don’t see how,” Infante said. “All he knows is two Family boys tried to kill him. He’s going to figure, at first, that he’s on the shit list for some reason. Which’ll send him off in the wrong direction. He’ll go to Chicago and hit on a few people in person till he finds out what’s going on.”

Julie was nodding. “You’re right” she said. “I know this man; that’s what he’d do.”

Harold said to Infante, “How long will it take him?”

Infante shrugged. “Once he knows the Family didn’t send us, he’ll find you. No question. He’s in tight with some pretty high-up people. A few phone calls, and they’ll have you cold.”

“Julie,” Harold said, “ you’ve got Chicago connections. That’s how we got hold of Infante and his partner. Couldn’t you...”

“Sorry,” Infante interrupted, “but any connections you got are much smaller shots than the people Nolan’s tight with. The guy I work for, Mr. Hines, who is in the Bahamas at the moment, didn’t like it when this Nolan came to the Quad Cities, opening up a club. He complained and pretty soon there was a phone call. From a guy named Felix. He’s nobody you ever heard of, but what Sally told me is he’s like the corporate lawyer for the Family. And he told Mr. Hines that Nolan was a personal friend. So Nolan’s well connected, all right.”

“Shit,” Julie said. She wasn’t smiling now.

Harold said to her, “That means you can’t turn to your Chicago friends for help.”

“I don’t dare to, no, dammit,” she said. She had a hand on one hip and rubbed her forehead with her other hand.

“If Nolan’s connected,” Harold continued, “killing... killing him might cause you trouble. Family trouble.”

She shot the man a look that said he was saying too much in front of a relative outsider like Infante.

But Harold pressed on. “You could leave,” he suggested.

“Don’t be silly.”

“He’s right,” Infante said. “Just take off. Your boyfriend and me can handle Nolan.” Infante patted Harold’s shoulder. “We’ll let you know when the smoke clears.”

She laughed. “I told you I know this man, Logan, Nolan, whatever. He’s not easily handled. But he does have a weakness.”

“What’s that?” Infante said.

“Harold,” Julie said, “I’m kind of parched. Get us some Cokes from the machine, would you?”

Harold shrugged, rose; Infante watched the man walk to the door. Graceful for a big guy. He went out.

She sat on the bed next to Infante. She didn’t touch him, but kept her distance.

“Harold’s a bit squeamish,” she said.

“A lot of big guys are soft at the center,” Infante said.

“Harold has his strong points.”

“I bet he does.”

“I just don’t want him hearing what I’m going to tell you.”

“Okay.”

“Nolan’s got this friend. This close friend.”

“Yeah, so?”

“It’s this kid, about twenty. Muscular, curly haired little guy. Cute.”

“Yeah?”

“And they’re close friends. You catch my drift yet?”

“You mean... Nolan and this kid?...”

“Right.”

“He’s living with a broad, for Christ’s sake.”

“So what?”

Infante thought about that, said, “Yeah, right. So he’s double-gaited, so what about it?”

“So I got the kid.”

Infante grinned. “No shit?”

“None at all. I’m keeping him at a place just a few miles from here.”

“He’s your guest, only it wasn’t his idea, you mean.”

“Right. A friend of mine’s sitting on him.”

“I’m liking the sound of this. Go on.”

“I’m not leaving. Or hiding, or anything. I’m waiting for Nolan to show up, and then I’m going to use the kid on him.”