Dan Marlowe - Shake a Crooked Town

“But the Lowells run Jefferson?”

Lowell's smile was bitter. “I can take you to places in town where you can get an argument on the point. Oh, they used to, all right.” He took down his pony glass from the mantel where he had placed it while he lit his cigar.

“Thompson was your man. You're bein' moved in on since he was dragged out of the saddle?”

“Very succinctly put, my friend. I am indeed being moved in on.”

“But you're still the mayor.”

“The voting public still retains an affection for the name Lowell. As for the mayor's rights, powers, and perquisites, they're being whittled away every day.”

“By Daddario?”

“Jim would like to be mayor.” Richard Lowell shrugged. “Ten years ago I'd have called it impossible.”

“Riley is Daddario's man?”

“He is, although he was approved by the city council, which is a nine-man board. The vote was five to nothing with four abstentions. It was an extremely slapdash affair. I had no candidate to put up against Riley. It was railroaded through.”

“If you still control four council votes you can't be in such bad shape,” Johnny said.

“I controlled six at the beginning of this term,” Lowell said wryly. “Jim apparently is a better salesman than I am.” He drained off the balance of his brandy. “How was your dinner?”

“Fine an' dandy, until I ran into Kratz an' Savino afterward.” The mayor looked at him silently. “Savino threw another shoe. Kratz refereed. I don't think we settled much.”

“I'm not sure that I would put too much stock in anything Miss Burger may have said during your-ah-conversation.”

The flexible speaking voice carefully picked its way. “If she said anything?”

“She didn't say much,” Johnny admitted.

“It's not surprising. Despite their emotional-ah-disengagement, I happen to know that Jim and she are still financially involved.”

“He's payin' her off to keep her shut up?”

“No, no,” Lowell said hurriedly. “A project or two they embarked upon together in-happier days.” He set down his empty glass. “I talked to Toby about you this evening. He was surprised to learn that you were here.”

“Pleasantly?”

The mayor's smile was small and unwilling. “I didn't ask. I was more interested in his opinion of you. I might say it does you credit. Would you be open to a proposition?”

“Just a minute. If Jack Riley is Daddario's man how were you able to spring me from the lion's den today?”

“They don't buck me openly,” Lowell said. “Not yet, anyway. If I make a loud enough noise I get my way. Riley would like to cut me off at the knees but Jim's the patient type. He remembers all those voters who revere the name Lowell. Now about that proposition-”

“You're offerin' me the job of Chief of Police?”

The mayor stared. “Hardly.”

“Why not? Sounds to me like you need one on your side.”

“You're not being realistic, Killain. If I had the votes on the council to put you in as chief I'd have had the votes to keep Thompson on. Even though the type of charges that necessitated his removal did me as his sponsor no good at all with the independent members of the council.”

“I thought Toby was his sponsor.”

“Toby recommended him to me.” Irritation edged the mayor's tone. “Toby has been above and beyond Jefferson for twenty years. I seem to have been delegated to fight the Lowell rear-guard action.”

“So I'm not gonna be police chief. What is it, then? President of the city council?”

The mayor's smile was pained. “Really, Killain, you-”

“Tax assessor? Health inspector? Dog catcher?”

Richard Lowell flushed dully. “You know perfectly well I'm unable to offer you an official position of any kind.”

“But you're offerin' me a position.”

“Why-yes.” Lowell brightened. “You're accepting?”

“It might help if I knew what it was.”

The mayor looked down at his half-consumed cigar and threw it backward into the fireplace. “You would-ah- assist me. In a number of ways. There are projects I've been unable to execute because of the lack of the right man.”

“Assistant to the Mayor,” Johnny said musingly.

Richard Lowell looked startled. “I'm afraid there would be no title,” he said hurriedly.

Johnny tired of the game. “So you're hirin' a bodyguard,” he said bluntly.

“Not at all, not at all!” Mayor Lowell said it vigorously. “I've no need of one.”

“Glad to hear it. Say, how do I get in touch with Micheline Thompson? I've called her apartment twice and nobody answers.”

The mayor appeared taken aback by the abrupt change in direction. “I'm sure I don't-you say no one answers? The funeral, possibly-” He jammed his hands in his pockets to get them out of sight. Left to themselves they dry-washed each other nervously. “You have business with Mrs. Thompson?”

“Just a social call. I knew her in France.”

“You did?” Richard Lowell smiled uncertainly, sobered, then smiled again with an effort. “I had no idea-”

“I'll catch her in the mornin'. She looked good when I talked to her an' Daddario in New York. A lot different than-”

“Please.” Richard Lowell held up a hand. His tongue circled dry lips. “You talked to Jim Daddario in New York? In Mrs. Thompson's presence?”

“Make it the other way around. I talked to her in his presence.”

“How-who made this arrangement?”

“She called me, reminded me of France, an' asked me to come down an' see her. I went. Just about that time somebody was gettin' to her husband up in my room.”

“I'm extremely glad to have this information, Killain. I consider it highly significant that Jim was right in the neighborhood when Thompson was killed.” His voice took on added timbre. “You've already gathered, I'm sure, that it was because Jim was unable to control Thompson that he forced his removal.”

“Sure.” Johnny got to his feet. “Time to hit the road. If you ever get the dimensions of this job shaped up, give me a ring. An' if you get the scent of my thousand bucks anywhere on the local breeze I'd likewise appreciate a call.”

“Certainly. Happy to help.” Richard Lowell looked as though he would have liked to prolong the conversation but had suddenly run out of material. “Ah-goodnight, Killain.”

“Goodnight. I'll find my way out.” Johnny walked through the library door and the cavernous front hall. He turned around on the walk outside to look back at the house bulking large in the night, the massive central structure festooned with added wings. A glimmer of light from the library was the only break in the total expanse of darkness. One man living all alone in a house like that, Johnny thought.

The visit had strengthened a feeling Johnny had had that afternoon. Compared to the incisive, fast-acting Toby Lowell, Johnny knew that Dick Lowell was a bumbling incompetent. Unless his indecisiveness was an act-and Johnny could see no reason for such being the case-the mayor despite his bluffly hearty appearance was not much more than a hollow shell. In the city of Jefferson the Lowell blood was badly in need of an infusion of red corpuscles.

The Lowell House was three blocks from the business district. Johnny walked back, conscious of a pleasant lassitude. He hadn't been in a bed in thirty-six hours but he didn't feel tired. His nerve-ends seemed touched with quicksilver. He definitely was not in the mood for sleep. Restlessness clawed at him internally. His hand in his pocket closed on the thick wad of Mickey Tallant's loan and seemed to give purpose to his stride. He crossed the street to a cab stand on a corner, put his head in the window of the first cab in line and spoke to the dozing driver. “Any action in town?”