Mickey Spillane - Lady, go die

When it was over, she nuzzled my ear and kissed my neck lightly.

“Sleep tight,” she said.

After a kiss like that, I’d be lucky if I could sleep at all.

So I went out into slumbering Sidon for a little late evening walk on what turned out to be a cool, breezy night. Every storefront was closed except a couple of bars, and I was almost surprised the sidewalks weren’t literally rolled up.

It wasn’t just Velda’s kiss, though, that was keeping me awake and sending me out for a stroll. I had someone to call on and figured that by now the reporters would be done with him.

Mayor Rudolph Holden, if the flimsy little Sidon phone book could be trusted, lived two blocks off the business section in a red-brick turn-of-the-century two-story house. Quaint but well kept-up, with a nice well-trimmed lawn, this was the largest home I had spotted in the community. Across the street was a Baptist church that was only marginally bigger.

There were lights on downstairs, so His Honor was up. But I wasn’t surprised when my two rings of his doorbell got no response. With that pack of reporters in town, who could blame him for ignoring it? So I hammered on the door and kept at it. Either Rudy would answer or the dead would wake. Either way should be interesting.

Rudy didn’t answer, but it wasn’t the dead, either. The woman was very much alive, slender and about fifty in a nice floral frock, and she hadn’t removed her make-up though it was after nine. She was the kind of older-looking dame who could put on an air of respectability without losing her sex appeal. Unless this was the housekeeper, Rudy had done all right for himself.

Even if it was the housekeeper, he’d still done all right for himself.

“Yes?” she said, her tone impatient, letting me know she didn’t appreciate being disturbed. She had nice hazel eyes and her white hair was youthfully arranged.

“Mrs. Holden?”

“Yes,” she said again, even more impatient.

“I’m not a reporter, ma’am.”

This seemed to take some of the starch out of her. But she said one more time, “ Yes? ”

Like, what the hell is it?

“Would you tell your husband that Mike Hammer is here to see him?”

“My husband is not home.”

“Okay. If he is home, you should tell him I’m here. He’ll want to see me. If he isn’t home, you should tell me where I can find him. It’s important. I’m a detective on the Wesley murder.”

Her irritation turned to alarm, and she said, “Just a moment.”

His Honor received me in his book-lined study. We sat in two comfy chairs before a fireplace that was of course unlighted. His wife had turned friendly, even gracious, and brought us sugar cookies on a plate and glasses of iced tea, which she set on a small table between her husband and me.

“Mr. Hammer,” he said, and he had a warm baritone that was a little odd coming from a small-ish, almost roly-poly individual.

He was in the same short-sleeve white shirt as at the park, but had ditched the too-short tie. He had lost much of his hair, but boyish features kept him young-looking. Minus the pot belly, and plus a full head of hair, he’d have been a nice-looking man. Nice enough to catch that attractive wife, anyway.

Superficially, he seemed calm. But he was eating the cookies nervously. I had one-he had six as we spoke, sugar gathering on his chin like a frost on a winter window.

“We’re lucky to have you in Sidon,” he said, nibbling.

“Really? And why is that?”

“Well, a detective of your abilities. Your renown. We’re a small town, and we’re not well acquainted with murder.”

“Murder gets acquainted with people in all kinds of towns, Your Honor. But you have Deputy Chief Dekkert to lean on, don’t you? He has real big-city experience.”

“Yes, Mr. Hammer, but his background is in vice.”

It sure was.

“Well, I’d be glad to help,” I said.

Was that how they planned to play it? Work with me, and keep an eye on what I was up to? In a pig’s ass that would happen.

On the other hand, the mayor had just opened the door for me to make noises like a cop.

“Mayor Holden, what can you tell me about Sharron Wesley?”

“Call me Rudy, please. Everyone in Sidon knows everyone else, and we like it that way.”

“Swell. But my question…?”

“Well, she was an upstanding citizen, of course. A respected citizen.”

“Really? I understand she had a lot of wild parties out at her digs. And that her guests sometimes came roaring into town causing trouble, like cowboys after a cattle drive.”

He shifted in his comfy chair. Nibbled a cookie. “Well, that certainly has elements of truth. But it’s an exaggeration. We are a one-industry town, Mr. Hammer. And that industry is tourism.”

“In other words, showing out-of-towners a good time.”

“That’s not how I’d put it, but I can’t disagree.”

I leaned forward and grinned at him. It was a nasty enough grin to freeze him mid-cookie.

“Listen, Rudy. The Wesley broad was running a casino out there. I’ve only been here since Friday night and I already know that. So let’s not pretend you don’t.”

“Well… again. We’re a one-industry town.”

I glanced around. “You and your lovely wife have a lovely home here.”

“Well, uh, thank you, Mr. Hammer.”

“Pretty much everything about your set-up is lovely.”

“Set-up?”

“Deputy Chief Dekkert got tossed off the New York Police Department for graft, Rudy. That would make it hard for him to get hired on a lot of forces. But I think it was a gold star on his record, where Sidon was concerned.”

He smiled through sugar-flecked lips. “I’m afraid I’m not following you.”

“I know how these small towns operate. You have a casino on the outskirts. I was inside, I saw the lay-out, and it’s big city all the way. Somebody from New York was backing Sharron Wesley’s play.”

He swallowed a bite of cookie. “Suppose that’s true. What does it have to do with her death?”

“Probably everything. She was strangled, Rudy. Somebody would seem to be unhappy with her. I’d like to have a word or two with her silent partner. And yours.”

He shook his head, smiling again, but it was a sick smile. “I’m afraid you’re making an unwarranted assumption, Mr. Hammer. Much as I would like to help you, I simply don’t know.”

He nibbled on a cookie and I slapped it out of his hand. Then I slapped him a couple of times. He looked as startled as a guy in bed with somebody else’s wife when the flashbulbs went off.

“I don’t know the name! There is no name!”

His wife leaned in from the next room. “Dear? Is there a problem?”

“No! No.”

“You’re sure?”

I said, “He’s sure,” and looked at her with my nicest smile till she smiled back and went away.

Holden tried to straighten up and crawl inside the upholstery at the same time. “Are you insane, man? I’m the mayor of this town! You come into my house, uninvited, and threaten me, and rough me up?”

“I didn’t rough you up. You’d know it if I roughed you up.” I raised a hand in a peaceful gesture, but he jerked back, thinking I was going to slap him again. “I’m a little excitable tonight, Rudy. You see, somebody tried to kill me earlier, and I think it was your boy Dekkert.”

Veins stood out on his forehead. “What? My God! What were the circumstances?”

“The circumstances were, he missed. Big mistake. You and Chief Beales and his boys need to steer clear of me, or I will treat them, and you, like the cheap crooks you are. I was just kind of curious about Sharron Wesley and why somebody would strangle her, but you know what? I didn’t even like the dame. I don’t approve of wholesale murder, but I don’t make every killing my business. Only when I see a slobbermouth like Dekkert damn near beat to death an innocent little guy, I get annoyed. And then when somebody tries to put a bullet in my brain, I get mad.”