Brett Halliday - I Come to Kill You

There were more men on the property than Shayne had seen earlier, and more cars kept arriving. He counted eight in front of the house.

He received some interested looks as he entered. A dice mechanic he knew wanted to talk to him, but Shayne gave him a mean stare and went past.

In the game room an all-male group was watching a locally based comedian on television, with much enjoyment. De Blasio was holding forth in the bay window, in what seemed to be his usual place. The man he was with was Larry Zito. When he saw Shayne he broke off the conversation abruptly.

“Michael,” he said, looking at Shayne intently and taking him by the arms. “We haven’t had a word. Did it go all right with you?”

“You’ve got quite a crowd here.”

“I thought we’d better get together. We have to come to some decisions. Larry thinks we ought to take the offensive, the hell with this standing around.”

Shayne glanced at Zito. “Larry was a tough man twenty years ago.”

“They hit one of our guys in St. A.,” Zito said. “That’s one less mouth to feed,”

Shayne said. “I’ve got a tape I want you to listen to. Privately,” he added.

“Absolutely, Mike,” De Blasio said. “I want to hear it, believe me.”

His son, Carl, at the bar, called, “Play some Ping-Pong, Mike? Five bucks a game.”

“We’ve got some business to get out of the way.”

Leaving the room, Shayne remarked, “He’s pretty juiced. Does that happen often?”

“It’s a reaction, Mike; it’s understandable.”

“How many people know I was along on that this morning?”

“There’s been some talk about it. You can’t prevent that.”

Shayne was taken to a downstairs bedroom, where, sitting on one twin bed, with De Blasio on the other, he played the censored version of his conversation with Bobby Burns. De Blasio listened attentively, and asked to hear it again.

“There were a couple of other things I hoped I’d catch,” Shayne said, “but these little receivers are temperamental. They cut in and out.”

“Did he mention any names?”

“Of backers? No, why should he? He had no reason to try to impress me.”

“I just wish he came over more crazy. But he wants to argue it out in the streets, and that’s against everything the top people have been trying to do. Mike, I think I can win with this. I’m going to give it a try. Dino, Frankie Guarino, Don Peppino, a few others.”

“Joe Barbieri’s in town.”

“And Barbieri. Now, what happened on the Beach, with Marti? Nothing’s come through. Dino and Frank and the rest, what if the news breaks about the hit and they hear it on the car radio? They’ll ask about it.”

“Act mysterious.”

“Mike, on this level, when they want to know something, you tell them.”

“It won’t be on tonight’s news. That’s all I can tell you. This is one thing I don’t want to have hung on me. And that brings me to an important announcement. If this tape convinces your committee that it’s in their interest to kick Burns into line, you owe me five thousand. After I collect that, we’re through.”

Before De Blasio could comment, Shayne went on, “Carlo thinks being in on the Siracusa thing makes me a permanent part of your outfit. Bull. You can’t use it. I helped to clean up, but he’s the one who fired the gun. I’m going to open my old office and try to drum up some legitimate business. Burns offered me a very good deal, and I told him the same thing.”

“What kind of deal?” De Blasio said suspiciously.

“Thirty thousand to think of a way to get you off the island. I refused to discuss it.”

“That was smart.”

“I think so. I’m a status-quo man. He’s an unknown quantity. I think Miami’s better off with you.”

“Thanks, Mike. You’ll be here, won’t you, to fill us in on the background if they have any questions?”

“No. Too many people have seen me already. I can live with that. The clients like to think I can get in anywhere — it’s part of what they expect for their money. But there’s a line I can’t cross and keep my license. Don’t mention my name in connection with this tape. I’ve given you value for your money.”

“I’m not saying otherwise. I thought I could make you an offer you couldn’t afford to turn down, but if this is how you want it…”

“It’s how I want it,” Shayne said, standing up. “Tell them to let my Buick through the checkpoint.” He put out his hand. “Good luck.”

Shayne went behind the bar to fill his flask. Carl, drinking gin, like his wife, blinked at him.

“Looking for you. Mike, I want to say just one thing. You’ve got balls.”

“I want you to forget that boat ride this morning,” Shayne said. “If you can’t do that, the guy with you was small and bald and potbellied, with six toes on one foot and a bad complexion, and he took off for Mexico City right afterward.”

“I’m digging you, Mike. And whatever you say, I’ll do, because in my book you’re one hundred percent solid. I think we did a sweet job. No rough edges. No chance of a kickback on it.”

“I’ve been talking to your wife.”

“With Nicola?” Carl said, astonished. “About this?”

“Bring your drink. Too many people around.”

“I don’t know what the hell Nikki—”

Shayne walked away. It took Carl a moment to leave the security of the bar, where he had something to hold on to. His walk was a shade too emphatic, but otherwise steady.

Shayne waited on the lawn. The light was fading. It would be dark in half an hour.

“I can’t promote a Ping-Pong game anymore,” Carl complained. “I’m too good for those bastards. I know you could hold your own. You’ve got the reflexes. Mike? Ever since I was a kid I’ve admired people with balls. You pulled a gun on the old man. I respect you for that.”

“Your wife says you’ve been cheating on her.”

Carl peered at him owlishly. “How does she know that?”

“She wants me to find out who it is. She knows it’s an older woman, and that worries her.”

“Older woman! She’s seventeen, and it was only twice.”

“Carl, after this morning we’re friends, aren’t we?”

“We are! Friends is the word. By God, anything you ever want…”

“You know this kind of setup is hard on a girl, coming in cold. She must have an idea where the money comes from, but she wouldn’t want to think about it. It wouldn’t be too bad as long as she was on good terms with her husband…”

“Did she say we fight? I deny that. I always treat her with courtesy.”

“Whenever you think of her, and that’s the point. I want to ask you a personal question, between friends. When was the last time you had intercourse with her?”

“The last time…” Carl said, baffled. “Mike, I’m not one of those compulsive morning-noon-and-night people. So many things have been going on, business-wise…”

“She’s a sweet girl. She’s trying to be a good wife to you. She’s home now, Carl. When I left her, she was crying.”

“I see what you’re driving at, but I had my heart set on a game of Ping-Pong.”

“No. She needs you. Not next week or tomorrow, but right now. Forget about your father’s problems. You’ve done enough for one day. Go home and apologize. Have a quiet drink together. Broil a steak.”

“I don’t know why she never said anything to me. And then to open up to a perfect stranger…”

During this maudlin conversation Shayne had been circling back toward the garage. Carl continued to protest that he didn’t know what his wife was complaining about. Coming up to the Buick, Shayne said curtly, “I’ll drive you. I promised her I’d deliver you, drunk or sober. Get in.”