Лоуренс Блок - Death Pulls a Doublecross [= Cowards Kiss]

The Ruskin stared across early-evening Eighth Avenue, watching whores bloom in doorways like pretty weeds in a dying garden. The lobby was filled with overstuffed Edwardian chairs. The ceiling was high and dripped with chandeliers. We walked to the front desk while thirty or forty years seem to slip away and disappear.

I watched expressions play across the face of the middle-aged desk clerk. Maddy and I weren’t married — she wasn’t wearing a ring. And we weren’t toting luggage. But it was damned early for adultery, wasn’t it? And we didn’t look like whore and customer.

He just about had his mind made up to take a chance on us when we disappointed him. I told him I wanted to talk to Room 1104 on the house phone. He did a very sad double take, then pointed to a phone on the desk and scuttled for the switchboard. Midway through the first ring Peter Armin picked up the phone and said hello to me.

“Ed London,” I said. “Can I come up?”

A small and brief sigh came over the wire. “I am delighted,” he said. “I’ll be most happy to see you. Where are you?”

“In the lobby.”

He chuckled appreciatively. “Magnificent,” he said. “You give little advance warning, Mr. London. Would you wait five minutes or so, then come straight up?”

I told him that was fine, put the phone down. I asked the clerk at the desk if the hotel had a bar. He pointed through a wide doorway and I took Maddy by the arm and led her toward it.

“I don’t want a drink,” she said. “Why don’t we stay in the lobby?”

“Because Bannister may have the place watched. Maybe his man missed us on the way in. If we sit around the lobby he’s sure to spot us.”

“That makes sense.”

“No, it doesn’t,” I told her. “But I need a drink.”

The bar matched the lobby. It was more along the lines of an old-style taproom than a hotel bar. I asked for Courvoisier and while the barman poured my drink Maddy changed her mind and ordered a Daiquiri.

“I thought you weren’t having any.”

“I wasn’t,” she said. “Ed, I’m worried.”

“I told you to go home.”

She shook her head impatiently. “I’d worry even more if you were here without me. Look, how do you know what we’re walking into? He could have a trap for us.”

“Trap? Hell, all he’ll do is sit there with a gun in his hand. He’ll do that just as a matter of course to make sure I’m not here with Bannister at my heels. But he won’t try to trap me. He trapped me before in my own apartment, for God’s sake. He doesn’t want me. He wants the briefcase.”

“So does Bannister. And look what his men did to you.”

I told her Bannister and Armin were different men. Their minds worked differently.

She picked up her glass, finished most of it in one swallow. “What are you going to say to him?”

“That we should cooperate.”

“Huh?”

“He wants a briefcase,” I said. “I want a killer. That doesn’t mean we have to fight each other. I’ve got a hunch he’s in a spot like mine. I think he must be working alone. He could probably use somebody on his side.”

“And you’ll be on his side?”

I couldn’t tell whether she approved or disapproved. She read the line perfectly straight.

I sipped cognac. I said: “I’m not sure. I’ll have to see how it goes upstairs. If nothing else, we can probably pool information. He must know the answers to a hell of a lot of questions.”

“Like what?”

“Like what’s in the briefcase and what’s so important about it. Like why the girl was killed and where she fits into the picture. I’m in the middle of everything and I don’t know what it’s all about, Maddy. Armin can be of help.”

“If he wants to.”

“Well, sure,” I said. “If he wants to.”

We left the elevator and found Room 1104 without a hell of a lot of trouble. I knocked on the door and Armin’s voice told us to come in.

He was sitting in a chair with a gun in his hand. Every time I saw him he was sitting with a gun in his hand. This one was a Beretta like the first. It was the mate to the one in my pocket.

“This is getting monotonous,” I said. He lowered the gun and Maddy relaxed her grip on my arm.

“I’m terribly sorry,” Peter Armin said. “You understand, of course. I didn’t know for certain that you’d be alone. But that’s impolite, isn’t it? You’re not alone. I don’t believe I’ve met the young lady.”

“My secretary.”

He nodded with majestic understanding. He was dressed well, almost too well. He wore a pair of light-gray flannel slacks and a lime-green Paisley shirt with a button-down collar. The shirt was open at the neck. He wasn’t wearing a tie. His shoes and socks were black.

“This room is really too small,” he said. “Only the one chair. If you’d care to sit on the bed—”

We sat on the bed.

“I’m glad you came in person,” he went on. “I was afraid you might wish to talk on the phone. I really cannot do business over the telephone. The personal element is lost.”

He killed a little time finding his pack of cigarettes and offering them around. We thanked him and passed them up. He lit a cigarette for himself, smoked thoughtfully.

“You’ve decided to sell me the briefcase, Mr. London?”

I killed time on my own by filling a pipe and lighting it. Maddy got a cigarette and I lit it for her. The three of us sat and smoked.

Finally I said: “You’re a reasonable man, Armin.”

“I try to be.”

“Then let me set up a logical argument. Will you hear me out?”

“With pleasure.”

“Good,” I said. “Now let’s postulate that I don’t have the briefcase, don’t know much about it. Can you accept that?”

“As a postulate.”

“Good. Bannister’s men paid me a visit this afternoon. They came to my apartment. There were two of them. A talker named Ralph and a gorilla named Billy.”

“I was afraid that would happen,” he said ruefully. “I tried to warn you, Mr. London.”

“Sure, but I didn’t have the briefcase. Don’t forget that postulate we’re working on.”

“I see.”

I drew on my pipe and blew out smoke. “The way I see it, you and Bannister are on opposite sides of the fence.”

“Precisely. And it’s a high fence, Mr. London.”

“You and I are reasonable men. Bannister is not. If I have to take sides, your side is the natural one to pick.”

He nodded with obvious approval. “That only stands to reason,” he said. “As you may remember, it was my whole point in our... conference last evening. A choice of mind over muscle, one might almost say.”

“Uh-huh.” I looked at him. “So where are we? You and I are natural allies. Bannister’s our natural enemy. You want to get hold of a briefcase. I want to get Bannister for murder — Alicia Arden’s murder.”

He nodded.

“The briefcase is worth ten grand to you—”

“More, really. But I can only pay ten thousand.”

“So call it ten thousand. And nailing Bannister to an electric chair is worth a lot of time and effort to me.”

“A worthy aim, Mr. London.”

I smiled. It was easy to like Armin. You can’t hate a man who speaks your own language, can’t despise a guy whose mind works the way your own mind works. Every time he opened his mouth I liked him a little bit more.

“What I’m proposing,” I said, “is a sort of holy alliance.”

“Against Bannister?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Go on,” he said. “Your proposition sounds appealing.”

“We work together,” I said. “We pool information — you’ve probably got more to contribute than I do — and we join forces. You help me pin down Bannister and I help you get the briefcase. If I get my hands on it I give it to you for five thousand dollars — half of what it’s worth to you. If you get it alone, it’s yours free and clear.”