Mickey Spillane - Lady, go die

“I wasn’t born yesterday,” I reminded them, “so stay out of my way. You try any funny business and I’ll have a slew of reporters from the city down here and they’ll tear this town wide open. Or if you really get tough, you’ll find some connections of mine ripping into you with everyone from the governor on down behind them. Follow?”

Chief Beales swallowed. And nodded.

“Good. Now that we have that straight, let’s get down to cases. Why did you want to see me?”

Beales made an indignant sniff. “You know why, Mr. Hammer-what is your interest in a certain local woman’s disappearance?”

“I told you on the phone last night. These overgrown members of the Hitler youth here were playing kick the can with your local beachcomber filling in as the can.”

“And you broke it up. Fine. But why did you take that dimwit back to your hotel room last night?”

I hopped from the desk ready to smack his teeth down his throat, but the two cops were covering him, hands on the butts of guns at their sides. I leaned my nose in till it was almost touching the chief’s.

“You louse,” I told him. “What did you want me to do, let him lie there and bleed? Suppose I came along and you were in trouble, and did the same thing to you? Not that it wouldn’t be a pleasure.”

I backed away a little.

He licked his lips again. “That’s not the point, Mr. Hammer.”

“The hell it’s not. When you couldn’t get what you wanted out of Poochie, you gave him the iron boot. Why? Just to warn him to keep his mouth shut? What a community. Either the citizens here are blind or just plain stupid. If Poochie had enough sense, he’d hire a lawyer and drag your sorry tails into court so fast it would make your heads swim.”

“Look, Hammer-”

“Not Mister Hammer anymore? Don’t worry, chum, that score isn’t settled yet. I’m going to cover that little guy if no one else will. Anything happens to him, I’ll give each of you sons of bitches the kind of questioning that you gave Poochie… only worse. Dekkert already got his, Chiefie… push me, and you’ll get yours for letting it happen.”

Dekkert let out a low rumble from the back of the room. The bandages were more red than white now, good and soaked, but the bleeding from his smashed nose had stopped. Whether that rumble was a nonverbal comment or just some pain finding its way out, I couldn’t say.

But Dekkert was one guy I was going to have to keep an eye on. He’d be out to get me, and he wouldn’t come at me fair next time; but he wasn’t going to get the chance. Not if I could help it.

Right now, however, he wasn’t in the mood to talk much, unless he wanted to gag on his own gore.

Beales came back with: “What did that addle-brained beachcomber tell you?”

“What he told you. Nothing. Sharron Wesley is missing and you think he either saw something or had something to do with it.”

The chief goggled at me. “How do you know her name?”

“I get around. My God, it’s so damn evident the Wesley dame’s your missing yellow-haired gal, you couldn’t hide it under a mountain. Now let me ask you something. What was she doing around here that makes her disappearance so extraordinary?”

The chief lifted his little chin and several more chins came along for the ride. “I’ll have you know she’s a permanent resident of Sidon. A most respected citizen. And we look after all our citizens.”

“Like Poochie?” My laugh was drenched in sarcasm. “Or is the special treatment reserved for the citizens that have the money to pay you off, and keep ’em covered?”

It was a shot in the dark-that the rich missing dame had the local cops working security for her-but it hit home. If something happened to her on their watch, their meal ticket would be gone, or they might be in Dutch.

The red drained from the chief’s face and his mouth opened, but nothing came out. The two cops looked at him quickly, then at Dekkert, who gave a nervous twitch from his corner.

The chief’s eyes disappeared into slits in the fat puss. Finally he asked, “What do you mean by that, Hammer?”

I’d be damned if I was going to let them know I was taking potshots in the dark.

“What the hell do you think?” I said.

I shoved my hat on the back of my head and yawned.

“Well, boys and girls,” I said, “if you don’t have anything else for me on this fine morning, I’ll just be running along. You know where to find me.”

The chief swallowed again. “How long will you be in Sidon, Mr. Hammer?”

Mister Hammer again.

I’d been meaning to go back Sunday night, but I said, “Oh, I’ll be around for another week or so. Maybe I can help you out some. Take it easy.”

At the door I stopped and added, “One other thing. Tell that zombie of a night clerk at the Sidon Arms something for me, would you?”

“Uh… what is that, Mr. Hammer?”

“That I’ll stuff that hotel register up his ass if he does any more spying on me.”

I shut the door quietly. No need to slam it, and be rude.

Back at the hotel, I found Velda in a booth in the bar, busily sopping up a highball and working a crossword puzzle at the same time.

“Little early for that, isn’t it?” I asked, nodding to the highball.

“I’m on vacation,” she said.

I slid in opposite her. “Interesting way to keep Mike on the wagon-start drinking early.”

She gave me her cutest smile and took a lady-like sip. “I don’t want you on the wagon. I just want you sober.”

I grinned at her, said, “I like the way you think,” and called for a beer.

Usually by this time she’d be in a bathing suit, but for once she had on clothes. The day was a little too cool for sunning and swimming, I guessed. She shoved the paper away and leaned toward me, big brown eyes wide, long lashes fluttering like lazy butterflies.

“So, Mike-what did you find out?”

“What makes you think I found anything out? The police chief wanted to see me.”

“Right. What did you find out?”

The bartender, a lanky guy wrapped in an apron and boredom, delivered my nice cold mug of beer. I waited until he moved away before I told Velda about the little set-to at police headquarters. She made a great audience, moving from surprise to fear to laughter at all the right times.

When I’d wrapped it up, she said, “What do you think, Mike? What goes on in this town? And what does the Wesley woman have to do with it?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“You know what your next move is?”

I wiped suds off my mouth with the back of a hand. “Get out to the Wesley house and take a look around. Sharron wasn’t the type to live quietly. Whatever she was up to has the boys in blue here worried plenty.”

“What about them? Are they the power in Sidon?”

“Don’t be silly. If there’s anything big going on, it takes more brains than they have collectively to run it. Those guys are stooges, especially the chief. Dekkert is a plain out-and-out strong-arm boy. When the report reaches the top man that there’s an outsider prying around, that’s when the fun will begin. You just watch.”

“Watch my eye,” Velda countered. “I’m tired of sitting still while things go round and round. How about letting me in on something for a change? Don’t forget I have a private op’s license and a permit to carry a gun. I won’t get hurt.”

Some girl, Velda. Next to her compact in her purse nestled a flat. 32 automatic and she knew how to use it. And that wasn’t her only weapon-she could whip off a heel and crack a masher’s skull in a flash.

I patted her hand. “You don’t get the point, honey. If this was an ordinary routine job, I’d say swell, but it’s not. It’s a damn dirty business and I’d hate like hell to see you in over your head.”