Michael Collins - Act of Fear

‘Airtight alibis?’

‘Not like Pappas,’ Gazzo said evenly. ‘No one saw them who couldn’t be bought, I admit that. Roth has the best. He was at Pappas’ private beach all day. We checked that his car never left the shore. Bagnio was seen by enough reliable people in Philly, but it’s a short trip up here. The rest can account for most of their time, but not all.’

‘So none of them have real alibis,’ I said.

‘Who does, Dan?’ Gazzo said. ‘You’ve been around long enough to know that an alibi without an area of doubt hardly exists. Who can prove what he was doing every minute of a day unless he plans to do it or is lucky like Pappas. You know we have to go on probability. The boys all have alibis just good enough to make it hard for them to have killed the girl for Andy. Nothing is sure in this world.’

I swore again. ‘It’s got to be Pappas himself!’

I wanted it to be Andy. It’s good to think that evil always trips itself up; that a deadly machine like Andy Pappas would be finally betrayed by his one weakness — that he was, after all, human enough to have a girl and be jealous. Only that was unlikely as the motive. With Andy it was more probable that the Jones girl had learned too much, that it was bad business to let her live — love or no love.

Gazzo sighed. ‘Give me some credit, Dan, okay? Don’t you think I want it to be Pappas? You think maybe I wouldn’t like to nail him on this? My mouth waters when I think of it. I lie awake at night telling myself that this is just the kind of mistake that nails a guy like Pappas. Sure. Only I’ve been a cop too long to kid myself.’

‘Meaning?’

‘Meaning that I’ve got to be honest. I’ve got to go on what my experience and judgment tell me, and I know, as much as anyone can know anything, that Andy didn’t kill her or have her killed.’ Gazzo stopped and stared moodily into the shadows of his office. He picked a cigarette from his package and lighted it. His eyes were seeing something not easy to see. ‘I was there when we told him, Dan. I mean, I wanted to be there. I was sure we had him. We didn’t know about him until the maid told. We told him cold. I’m human, I wanted to see him squirm. Only I didn’t like it when I saw his face.’

Gazzo smoked, looked at me. ‘He almost fainted when we told him, Dan. I’ve told a lot of people about the death of someone they loved. I’ve seen a thousand faces when they get that news. I know what those faces look like, and I know a real shock and a real faint when I see one.’

The captain seemed to find the cigarette bitter to his taste. ‘He cried, Dan. I mean, Andy Pappas really cried. You ever see Andy cry? Even when he was fifteen? I remember the day his old man was crushed to death on the docks. Andy just looked at what was left of the old man. This time he cried. He told me to get who killed her.’

‘Touching,’ I said.

But I wasn’t as hard as I sounded. It was just, as I said, that I wanted Andy to make his mistake that way. I wanted Andy to get it from something as stupid, as simple, as human as a jealous rage; some lousy little mistake anyone could have made. I wanted that real bad. Gazzo knew what I was thinking.

‘I’ve been a cop a long time, Dan, and I know about Andy this time. Sure, we’ve checked it all ways and upside down, too. As far as we can learn, the girl was just a dumb kid who was proud to be Pappas’ girl. Word says she never even knew exactly what Andy does. Everything says that Pappas was really hooked on the girl, treated her almost like a daughter.’

‘Daughters cheat,’ I said, ‘and maybe she learned something she didn’t even know she knew. Andy takes no chances.’

‘Everything is possible, Dan,’ Gazzo said, ‘but we dug deep. There isn’t a whisper against Pappas. It doesn’t look like she even knew who he really was. They kept it pretty quiet, and she was like a toy to him. The worst you can say is she was dumb, and liked the men too much.’

‘Maybe one man too many,’ I said. ‘Andy’s human, maybe.’

‘For God’s sake, Dan, we’re talking about Andy Pappas!’ Gazzo roared at me. ‘You think Andy would do such a lousy job of killing his own girl friend? You think he’d shoot her in her own apartment and just fake a burglary? You think he couldn’t come up with a better cover than that?’

It was the best argument Gazzo had offered. Yes, I thought that Pappas would have done better. The girl had been closely tied to him. There would have been a more plausible ‘accident’. And a sudden rage was out. Pappas had been in Washington. I did not see anyone else killing Pappas’ sweetie on purpose. No, the burglar theory looked better now.

‘That’s why you weren’t surprised that the loot hasn’t turned up,’ I said.

Gazzo nodded. ‘Every fence in New York has those diamonds and pearls engraved on his brain. Pappas would see to that. To try to sell them would be a death warrant.’

A very quick death warrant. The question was: whose name was on that warrant? Someone was looking for Jo-Jo Olsen, and looking very hard. The next question was: Was it Pappas who was looking for Jo-Jo, or someone else? From the way Andy had acted when he warned me to lay off Swede Olsen and family, it did not seem that Andy was looking for Jo-Jo or had any idea that Jo-Jo might be connected to the death of Tani Jones. But Pappas is a clever man. He would not tip his hand, and he would not want me looking if he was looking. He could be playing both sides of the street — warning me off to lull Olsen, and looking for Jo-Jo himself. At least, whoever was looking was still looking. Which indicated that Jo-Jo was not yet in a shallow grave.

I left Gazzo to his perpetual midnight.

‘Keep in touch,’ the captain said. That, too, was an order.

On the hot streets it was almost night now. I could feel the city begin to move. New York is busy in the daylight, but it is at night that it really lives. You can feel the surge as the sun goes down across the river. It can be a wonderful moment, that night surge of the city, if you have something to do and somewhere to go. If you have nothing to do and nowhere to go it is a desolate moment. All I had to do for certain was chase down the Driscoll girl. It was too late for that, I had only an office address. After the Driscoll girl I was down to starting again looking for someone who knew anything about Jo-Jo, and checking the weary round of airline desks, train stations, and bus depots — something the police could do better, and that would lead to very little anyway. I was stymied.

But I had somewhere to go. Or I thought I did as I stood outside headquarters. Which proves how unclear my thinking was.

I wanted a drink and some company. I grabbed a taxi uptown for Monte’s Kat Klub. I don’t usually hang around the club. Marty is busy, and her job is to make the customers slobber over her three-quarters naked body; and she does a good job. On top of that the whiskey is cut and overpriced for the marks. But I wanted an ear, Marty can sometimes give me time between shows, and for me she can find a good bottle.

So I rode uptown and reached the club just in time for the first show. Or I almost reached the club. The cab could not get close, with the other cabs double-parked to let out the suckers. The driver had to drop me a block away.

I saw them. They were stationed casually on either side of the entrance to the club. Too casually. Not amateurs, maybe, but only semi-pros. They were not ridiculous in their stakeout, just bad enough for me to spot them and know them. Two average men in dark suits, one skinnier than the other. It was possible that they were waiting there for someone else. I knew better. Or, let’s say I knew better than to take the chance. I walked in the other direction. If I had had any doubts I soon lost them. When I reached the corner of Macdougall Street I saw them coming behind me.