Brett Halliday - Win Some, Lose Some

And Eddie Maye had been shot. That had been faked to look like a kidnapping, but Canada must have learned that Eddie was conspiring to get rid of him, and he had moved first. DeLuca had to assume that Eddie had talked freely before taking that shot in the head. So DeLuca was staying close, and he had imported two professional shooters from New York.

That committed him to the action. Canada had connections in New York, and sooner or later he would hear about it. The trouble was, nothing was ready. Eddie Maye had promised to set it up, delivering Canada to some certain spot at a certain time. Now that Eddie was no longer around, DeLuca had to think of some other way.

He liked to get off to an early start in the morning, and he liked his eight hours. Nobody called him at night unless it was really important. So when the phone rang after midnight, he came awake in a hurry and grabbed it.

It was Canada’s wife, Molly. She wasn’t as massive as her husband, but she ate much of the same cooking, and she showed it, especially between the knees and waist. Now and then, she had given DeLuca a certain look, to the effect that she might be willing to go upstairs with somebody who made regular trips to the gym and kept himself in good shape. He hadn’t followed it up, though it remained in the back of his mind.

“Lou, something scary has happened. You’ve got to help me.”

“Sure, Molly.” He felt for the. 38-caliber bullet he always carried as a good luck piece, a nice reassuring shape. A fatal accident to Canada right now would solve most of his problems, as well as save the hitmen’s fees. “Tell me.”

“I took a pill, my head’s just going around. What was he doing out there, anyway, this late at night?”

“Molly, can you sort of grab hold of yourself? What was this, a phone call?”

“From Homestead. They had a robbery at the site, lots of things taken. And the first thing the police saw when they got there was Larry’s car all smashed up.”

DeLuca took a half second to drain the eagerness out of his voice. “Was Larry in it?”

“No, that’s the thing. It was all bashed in, a total wreck, and no sign of Larry at all! Vanished! Lou, what do you think? Whoever it was talking, some lieutenant, thought maybe Larry got wind of the robbery-but does that sound like him? To go out there all by himself? You know it doesn’t.”

“When did you see him, for supper?”

“Yes, he ate here, silent as usual, and then he got in the car and went. He’s so busy I hardly ever see him at night these days. He’s been upset about something. I know, because when he’s worried he eats like a real pig. Have you heard anything?” Her voice caught. “Do you think he’s been killed?”

“Now what makes you say that? Of course he hasn’t been killed, or he’d be there in the car. Hauling Larry around would be no joke, believe me. Put it out of your mind.”

“Or kidnapped? That’s one of the things I’ve been terrified of, those stories in the papers. He’s so secretive about money. They found a rag soaked in chloroform.”

“That’s it, then,” DeLuca said, already beginning to think what he could do with this. “That isn’t too bad. Got him out there on some pretext. Can you stay awake now, do you think?”

“My God, after this do you think I could sleep?”

“Drink lots of coffee. They may want to get in touch right away. Let’s definitely figure a kidnapping. It won’t be anything long-drawn-out, a matter of days. In and out fast is the idea. I’m going out there now and see what I can pick up. If you get anything more, call my answering service.”

He didn’t want her to notify anybody else until he found out what was what. “Keep the line open for incoming calls. I’ll keep you up to date, trust me. Molly, I’ll tell you this. You’re one brave woman.”

Greco and Nick had never worked together before. Nick was an old face from the neighborhood, and they had no trouble getting along. They enjoyed the same things and kept the same hours. They were being paid for their time, and the client wouldn’t like it if he was ready to go and one of them couldn’t be reached. So they did everything in pairs, in no hurry for the wait to come to an end. This was the vacation capital of America, they were staying in the Doral at the client’s expense, and Greco had the names of a couple of ho’s. Theoretically they were supposed to stay razor-sharp at all times, but tonight when the girls finished work they dropped in with a bit of cocaine.

“No-o,” Greco said. “In case we get called out, you know, Nick?”

But they laughed him out of it.

Nick was something of a goof-off, and he kept the girls laughing. He was six-three, with a long skinny neck and an Adam’s apple that ran up and down. This was his first time out of New York, except to the Catskills. The Doral wowed him. Greco liked that. He was two years older. He had been to Miami twice, once with an older woman, once with a man.

DeLuca called from the lobby. Nick was nearest the phone, but he was busy just then, and Greco answered. He knew at once, from the abruptness, that they were about to start earning their money.

“Be right there.” He hung up. “Nick, this is for us.”

Nick claimed he would only take another minute, but Greco made him get up in spite of complaints from the girls. He took one backward step and sat down on the floor.

“Talk about dizzy.”

“You’ve got about one minute to stop being dizzy,” Greco told him sternly. “We’re going to be driving a car.”

“Oh, put me in a car and point me, I’ll be O.K.”

But before he could get in a car, he had to get off the floor and into the bathroom, where Greco let him stand under a stinging cold shower for a minute or two. Greco himself was weaving ever so slightly. If he relaxed his concentration for an instant, everything ran together like a punctured egg. He wasn’t afraid of action. The momentum would keep him going. But if he had to sit waiting for somebody, it would be hell staying awake.

Nick wandered out of the bathroom still wet. The girls thought he was trying to entertain them by the way he kept getting his arms in the wrong sleeves and doing up the buttons in the wrong order. As soon as he was more or less dressed, Greco took the small airlines bag to the bathroom.

“Nick, got something for you.”

Nick was trying, Greco would say that for him. He stuck the gun in his waistband under his loose Mexican shirt. As he went back to the bedroom, the gun popped out and dropped to the carpet.

The girls became serious all at once. One of them said, “Uh-oh.” The other, named Linda, bounced out of bed and ran to Greco. “I want to come. I never saw one. I won’t get in the way. I’ll just be, you know, part of the wallpaper.”

“Don’t be dumb.”

“I mean it. I can get dressed in a hurry. Let me! I’ll drive.”

“We’ve already got one driver,” Nick said, “so shut up before I clout you.”

“Nick-y.”

She kept begging them as they tried to finish, and Nick had to give her a backhand, which sent her tumbling. The gun popped out again.

“We’ll be back,” Greco told the girls. “Stay wet.”

Nick walked to the elevator with the help of one wall. “I’ll tell you this, I’ve felt better.”

“You’ll be O.K.,” Greco assured him.

In the elevator, Nick straightened to his full height and gave him a good smile. But the elevator went down much too fast and put Nick out on the garage level with everything sagging. He wanted to drive to prove it was possible, but Greco refused to commit suicide. He made the turns carefully. With a gun in his pocket, he was stopping for red lights, although there was little cross traffic. DeLuca was parked on Collins near Fortieth. He got out of his own car and into theirs. He was wearing dark glasses, which Greco considered an affectation at this time of night. He was totally sober. Good God, was he sober! Nick kept staring straight ahead, rocking against the seat belt. He might have been sleeping. A little sleep would do him good, as long as he had the common sense not to snore.