Микки Спиллейн - The Erection Set

“Indubitably, kitten.”

“Even if Cross wants to kill you?”

“He’ll have to stand in line,” I said.

Hobis and The Chopper hadn’t had any trouble since they took up the stakeout. Three hours ago Hobis had reported that he thought there was a surveillance on Lee’s apartment but didn’t want to expose the setup by checking it out. I passed the word for him to get in somebody else if he wanted to assign a tail to be sure of it, but for him to hold his position.

My man at the other end said it would be done, coughed and lapsed back into French again. “I’ve had a call from the Continent.”

“So?”

“Pierre Dumont was shot just outside Marseilles.”

“Bad?”

“Superficial wound in the leg, but O’Keefe is sending him back. That shipment apparently was bigger than anyone realized. Every possibility is being covered and the city is a focal point for every assassin that can be bought.”

“Don’t write me a story. Just tell me what the scoop is.”

“Pardon?”

“Just tell it.”

“I see. Yes. Le Fleur has posted a... a... how do you say it?”

“Reward?”

“Exactly. The shipment is worth approximately seventy million in street money. The loss cannot be tolerated. The government has confiscated the last two and this one was to make up the deficit. There are some stories circulating that it has already gone out.”

“To whom?” I asked him.

He coughed again and was hesitant with his answer. “To you,” was all he said.

“Somebody’s got their wires crossed.”

“I have been advised that we should sever all connections.”

“You’ve been advised wrong, my friend. Just don’t cross any of my wires.”

“It isn’t like... before, Mr. Kelly.”

“Nothing has changed at all, old buddy. You’re getting your fat deposits in the bank and let it stand just like that. I don’t like this shit any more than you do, but when the heat’s on, don’t try ducking out or you’re the one who’s liable to be caught in the middle.”

“Mr. Kelly... it isn’t just me.”

“Take your pick then... which one are you afraid of the most?”

“Sir?”

“You got the picture,” I said. “Now I’m going to add to it. You know the Guido brothers?”

“Mr. Kelly...”

“They were the consignees. They’re looking hard too. There’s no way that stuff can get to me, but all that flap is making me one special kind of a target I don’t like, and this thing gets ripped apart in a hurry or this here dog is going to lay somebody out, you understand?”

“I understand.”

“Okay, then pass the word. I’m out. The thing is sour. I’m getting bugged and when I get bugged somebody gets hurt and that somebody is plural. Does this message get through or not?”

“Yes... I believe I understand.”

I hung up the phone and walked back to the bar where Tod was polishing the mahogany top to a glossy finish, a stalling operation that gave him an excuse for not having to talk. He barely gave me a glance, but I picked up my glass and moved down to where he was so busy rubbing and pulled a stool up with my foot.

“What’s the beef, Tod?”

“No beef,” he muttered.

“Think I’m upsetting the applecart?”

He shrugged and spilled some more oily liquid on the aged wood, rubbing it in with the rag. He finally stopped, cranking his face up to mine with worried lines creasing his forehead. “Cross is going to find out, kid.”

“Who’ll tell him?”

“Things don’t get hidden so easily around here.”

“Linton’s been a burial ground of big secrets for a long time, Tod.”

“Not anymore.”

“I told you,” I said, “it was just a friendly visit.”

Tod scowled, trying hard to believe me. “So why bother?”

“You got to keep looking for the leverage, Tod.”

He nodded as if he understood, then capped the can of polish and put it under the bar. I finished my beer while he washed his hands and when he walked back again he held a folded sheet of notepaper and handed it to me. “Stanley Cramer said to give this to you.”

The note was brief, a simple “Stop by and see me,” signed with his initials.

“He say what this was about?” I asked him.

“Nope. Said to bring the little lady too.”

I rolled the note up and dropped it in the ashtray. “She’s in the city.”

“ ’S okay. Stan’s outa town too. Said he’ll be back in a few days. Looking up a couple of his old buddies, I think. The kid’s father used to work with him.” He looked up for confirmation.

“A long time ago.”

“Funny bunch, those old-timers. Good company men. Be nice if things work out around here.”

“They will, Tod.” I said. I picked up my hat and dropped my change in my pocket. “Incidentally, did Sharon Cass ever go with anybody from around here?”

Once again I got that quizzical look and his mouth thinned out. “Don’t all girls?”

“She’s been in New York quite awhile.”

“First she lived here.”

“The other day you said you heard something.”

His mouth tightened again. “She’s engaged.”

“So she told me.”

“You figuring to break up the engagement?”

“Maybe I don’t want that to happen.”

Tod stood there leaning on the bar. After a moment he nodded sagely. “You’re a big boy now, kiddo. You look like you’ve been takin’ care of a lot of problems and a lot of answers up till now, so you just keep right on doin’ that and you can never blame anybody else for giving you bad advice.”

My face cracked into a grin. “Okay, philosopher.” I put on my hat.

“Just don’t hurt her,” he added.

“Hell, she’s still a virgin.”

“That’s what I hear,” he said. He wasn’t grim anymore. He reminded me of a schoolteacher I once had.

Alfred and Dennison weren’t good listeners. Their guts had been churning ever since I had arrived and now they sat tight-lipped with untasted drinks while I told them what they were going to do.

The funny part was that I didn’t even have to lay it all on the line. Their three sisters had picked up the pace the minute I made the statement and were bubbling over with enthusiasm about having a motion picture made in Linton with the Barrin complex an integral part of the background. There was absolutely no doubt about which way they wanted things to go and from the indirect looks Al and Dennie were exchanging the message was loud and clear. Either they’d have to indulge their sisters’ whims or find themselves possibly bucked in laying their hands on the Barrin stocks they thought the girls still owned. Somebody had clued Lucella in and she played the game with school-girl anticipation, except that with her the humor of the situation seemed more real. Ever since she had divorced Fred Simon she had been put down in the family and now she was finally one up on them, not having been made to pull a nudie in her own front room.

But the only one really enjoying the situation was Pam’s husband. Marvin Gates had to hide his laughter behind a constantly uptilted Martini glass and when it got too much for him he excused himself to get a cigar.

I wondered how he had found out.

My cousins had the escape hatch opened for them when I dropped in the bit about the public-spirit angle. There were others who would benefit with movie company pay-checks and the publicity would smother any adverse criticism the unions might give the press.

But they couldn’t give a quick affirmative. There had to be some show of strength and after a forty-minute private conference they came back to the library and agreed that as long as nothing interfered with factory operation they didn’t see why it couldn’t be done.