Микки Спиллейн - Death of the Too-Cute Prostitute [= Man Alone]

I dropped the receiver back slowly, my teeth grinding against each other. “He got wise,” I said. “He’s on the run.”

“Where can he go?”

“Not where I can’t find him.”

“The trial’s in an hour.”

“Screw the trial. Get it postponed.”

“Maybe you’d better spell it out slowly for me, Pat.”

“Marcus took the Syndicate for a bundle. He proved his worth by getting Al Argenio to search my place for my documents and plant that money there.”

“Argenio was being paid off by him?”

“For a long time, apparently. Who knows what favors he did. He was in a position to do plenty here and there. One of them was spotting the potential of the Sentol and the FS-7 when he was on the warehouse detail. He delivered some of it to the Syndicate through Marcus. Trouble was, he blew his wad on bad investments and always needed more. Once he was hooked by those guys he was in all the way.”

“Go on.”

“While I was under house arrest, Marcus used the Syndicate money to refinance the operation along the east coast. Or at least part of it. A big chunk went to his own use. He thought he could cover it later, I guess, but they don’t take chances when that much is involved and double checked his accounts. When he came up short he was put on their dead list and a contract to eliminate was given to a couple of out-of-state hoods.

“Marcus got wind of it someplace... he probably had his own informers inside the organization, and had to cut out so both the law and the Syndicate would be off his back. He lined himself up a pigeon that looked just like himself physically. Remember... he had no outstanding physical characteristics. He was big and fat, bald and toothless, but no scars, tattoos or bone breaks.”

“That would take time, Regan.”

“Money would buy out enough time. Anyway, he found his pigeon. He promised him something, got him in his house, waited for his plan for me to go into operation because I was big mouthing about getting back at him for putting me on the hook, knowing I’d make the perfect patsy... and there I was.

“Hell, I wasn’t hard to follow. I made no bones about what I was doing while I was on suspension. Maybe it was Argenio who tailed me, maybe somebody else. I’d like to think it was Argenio, the bastard. Marcus had been cozy with Mildred Swiss and primed her for the job. He had her standing by to feed me that Sentol. Most likely he promised her the moon and she fell for it...a trip to Europe with him and all the trimmings. She doesn’t know what she’s doing, but goes along with it, anyway.

“At that party Popeye Lewis and Edna Rells threw I was ready, the timing was perfect and I was suckered. I had one thing on my mind... to get Leo Marcus before the department trial came up. Once I had gotten dosed the idea really took hold and I ran off at the mouth but good. The only lucky break I had was taking six aspirins earlier. It offset one of the effects of the Sentol. Maybe I would have killed the guy who was made up to look like Marcus, I don’t know. I do know I was supposed to have been found there still conscious but appearing drunk with a gun in my hand.

“Anyway, I got up those steps and was admitted inside. This part I don’t remember. All I know is what did happen. I could have been carried in. When I couldn’t do the job somebody... either Marcus or Argenio... took my gun and pumped six bullets into the decoy’s face destroying everything he had. My gun was put back in my hand reloaded, then fired so a paraffin test would show a positive. A burned log and a dumped slug would never be found. They threw the body face down in the fireplace so the flames would burn the prints off his hands, smashed up an extra set of Marcus’ dental plates and scattered the bits around and let it lie.”

“What about the finger?” George asked me.

I got up and paced between the desk and the window. “That was Marcus’ unfortunate accident. When the guy saw what was happening he put his hand up to protect himself and a slug took the pinky off his hand. That part was going to show when they examined the remains. A finger was missing, because Argenio found it and kept it They had to leave a finger there for the police to find.”

George looked sick again.

I said, “There are doctors around who have lost their licenses who would do the job for a price. Marcus would know them. One came up, amputated his finger, a shot was fired at the end to make it look like a bullet had done the job and the finger was wedged under the mantle. In fact, it even made the case for Marcus’ death better. One of his own fingers was there for the nearly irrefutable proof of his death.”

“But the finger was in Argenio’s place.”

“Insurance, George. Al played it smart. He kept the decoy’s finger and Marcus would have to keep him alive. They were both eyewitnesses to a murder they had planned and executed. Marcus had plenty on Al, now Al had the key to keeping Marcus in line and feeding him with the money he needed from the new enterprise Marcus had arranged for.”

George nodded. “Then we find the doctor who did the job and...”

“The hell with the doctor,” I said. “I want the other two, Argenio first.”

“He can’t get far.”

It was done. Tied up. I grinned, picked up the phone and dialed Madaline’s office number. She was going to be glad to hear the news. While I waited for the call to go through I told George, “Get on the other phone and start calling. There isn’t time for that damn trial.”

He nodded and left for the outside office as the voice on the other end said, “Sturvesent Agency, Miss Stumper’s office.”

“Pat Regan calling. Madaline there?”

The voice hesitated, then said, “Why... no. Isn’t she with you?”

I had to force out the words. “Is she supposed to be?”

“But... an hour ago... there was a call from downstairs. They said it was a policeman friend of hers who wanted to see her. She said it was you and she probably wouldn’t be back.”

Damn it all to hell! The scene had come bright and clear in his mind and now he was pushing the destruct button. “Check that call back and get a description of the person who met her. Don’t let anybody leave there until I get there. Got that?”

The urgency in my voice froze her, then she said, “Yes, sir.”

At my belt the weight of the.45 was like a living thing talking to me and I ran out of the room. George was talking on the phone and I stopped him. “He has Madaline.”

“Who?” George looked startled.

“Argenio. Call my office and have Jerry Nolan get an APB out and a squad working. Give him the details I gave you and hold onto that finger when Walter gets here.”

“Pat... where are you going? Damn it, Pat, you can’t...”

But I was out the door by then.

The call had been made in the lobby of the building, relayed through the receptionist. There was no doubt about it. The description the woman at the desk gave me fitted Al Argenio, except for his pleasant manner, but he’d have to put that on to make the act effective.

He had come up behind her when she came out of the elevator and neither the woman nor the starter heard what he said, but the uniformed starter saw him take her by the arm and go outside to where a cab was waiting at the curb with the occupied flag down.

I had the receptionist put me through to headquarters and got Jerry on the line. For the sake of listening ears I turned away and kept my voice down, but it took a lot of effort. All Jerry could say was, “What the hell’s going on, Regan?”

“Just listen, Jerry. I’m at the Sturvesent Agency building on Madison Avenue. Argenio got wise and beat me here. He grabbed Madaline, hustled her into a cab and took off. Alert all the cab companies and have their drivers check their trip sheets.”