Dan Marlowe - Shake a Crooked Town

“All right, Stewart,” the chief said. “Take the van and the others on back.”

“A change of plans?” Johnny inquired when the patrolman had left the room.

Chief Riley was in no hurry to reply. Without moving from where he stood, he examined the room deliberately. In some intangible way his manner irked Johnny. The chief finally returned his heavy-lidded gaze to Johnny. “You'd better leave town, Killain.”

“Yeah?” The measured pompousness of the pronouncement raised Johnny's hackles. “Like for what?”

“One of my men is in the hospital. I'm prepared to prove you led the gang that put him there. If I have to, that is. It might be a little less wearing all around if you just moved on.”

“This happen last night?”

“You know it happened last night.” Chief Riley's heavy features darkened in remembrance.

“I happen to have a pretty good alibi for last night.”

“You have no alibi for last night that will do you the slightest good.” The chief rapped out the words. “Am I making myself clear?”

“You mean your man will identify me?”

“He will.” Chief Riley said it positively.

“Let's go see him an' give him a chance,” Johnny said, knowing Riley had no such intention. “I'll bring my alibi along. Name of Lowell.”

The chief went red, white, and red again. Anger generated the color changes. “You're nothing but a goddamned agitator, Killain. I told Jim in New York you were-”

“Go ahead,” Johnny said softly as the angry voice ran down suddenly. “You told Jim what in New York?” The chief's hands clenched at his sides. “It's mighty funny the attraction New York seemed to have for Jefferson's officialdom the other day. Maybe you have an explanation for it?”

“The only thing I've got for you is a warning,” Chief Riley said between his teeth. “Be out of this town by noon or take the consequences.”

“Would you mind repeatin' that?” Johnny asked him. “I'm not sure the tape recorder caught it the first time.” He laughed at the chief's suspicious stare around the room.

At the laugh Riley went scarlet with rage. For a second, Johnny thought he was going to attack. If the thought had crossed his mind he quickly reconsidered. His voice shook. “Killain-”

Johnny gave him no time for threats or anything else. Moving swiftly, he crowded up against the chief who instinctively retreated. Johnny planted a heel deliberately on a well-shined toe and Riley flinched. “Drag it out've here, Riley,” Johnny said in a hard tone. He sank a casual elbow into the well-padded ribs and the chief gasped. “I've got you on tape now. You may have to roll over like a two-dollar whore for Daddario but I don't. The whole damn crowd of you are chickenshit to me.” Under the sharp prodding of careless feet and elbows the chief stumbled backward to the door. He landed out in the hallway in demoralized retreat without Johnny ever having laid a hand on him.

From the doorway, Johnny saw Mrs. Peterson standing wide-eyed at one side. Riley saw her, too. He made a pathetic attempt at a dignified exit. He waved a finger at Johnny. “Killain, I-”

Johnny moved toward him. The chief angled hurriedly to the stairs. In mid-flight, he stopped and turned. “Remember what I said. I'll-I'll-“ His voice shook. He faced about and tramped heavily down the balance of the steps. The lower floor shook from the violence with which he slammed the front door on his way out.

Valerie Peterson shook her head soberly. “That was a foolish thing to do.”

“The hell it was,” Johnny disagreed. “He's had me measured for a disappearin' suit from the minute he laid eyes on me. He just made a mistake figurin' I'd run the minute he swelled up his chest. Now he doesn't know whether I had a recorder in the room or not. I'll fix his wagon good now where it'll hurt, with his boss. Where does Daddario hang out when he's not dictatin' legislation for the city council to rubber-stamp?”

“He has a real-estate office a block off Main on Beacon.” Mrs. Peterson wagged her head disapprovingly. “I'll predict a building's going to fall on you. It's happened to better men in this town.”

“Better maybe, but not as lucky,” Johnny told her. “Beacon off Main. Right. Jimmy boy, break out the Sevres china. Two lumps. No cream, thank you.” He grinned at his landlady, did an exuberant little time step, and ran lightly down the stairs.

The real-estate office was larger than Johnny expected. From the sidewalk he could see a half-dozen desks behind a long counter. In one corner a private office with a frosted-glass door was partitioned off from the remaining floor space. There was no sign of Daddario. Two middle-aged women sprang to their feet from behind their desks as Johnny entered. “Yes, sir?” they chorused alertly. “Is there something-?”

A hand fell on Johnny's shoulder before he could speak. “I'll take care of it, girls,” Jigger Krata's heavy voice said. Johnny shook off the hand as he turned. Kratz had been sitting in a chair to the right of the entrance where he could look at the customers before they could spot him. Johnny noticed that up close there was a yellowish cast to the big man's eyes. Kratz studied him incuriously. “What's your business here, Killain?”

“I'm here to talk to Daddario.” Johnny leaned back with his elbows on the counter top cluttered with maps, pictures, brochures, staplers, ballpoint pens and boxes of paper clips.

“Jim's not here.” Kratz smiled a heavy-lipped smile, disclosing strong, gapped teeth.

“Maybe he's in there.” Johnny nodded at the private office.

“You're a little slow today, sonny,” Kratz said amiably. “To you he's not here, period.” He sounded bored.

Johnny turned as if to look at the office again. His right hand closed on a stapler. “Get him out here, Kratz. Before I go in there after him.”

“You could be a little big for your britches, Killain.” Kratz's voice was still mild. “This is a place of business and Jim's a busy man. You'd better run along.”

“Yeah?” Johnny pivoted and threw the stapler at the frosted-glass door of the partitioned-off office. The panel shattered in a burst of glass fragments. Muffled shrieks rose from the women behind the counter as Kratz charged. Johnny nailed him with a good left to the body on the way in. It didn't even slow him down. Arms like cable hawsers grappled with Johnny as they came together hard and thudded into the counter, half-sprawled along its top. Bracing his legs against Kratz's efforts to force him off his feet, Johnny sank both hands out of sight in the thick-set body. Kratz growled wordlessly and redoubled his attempt to force Johnny backward over the counter.

“Jigger! JIGGER!” The harsh voice cut like a sword. Johnny and Kratz eased back from each other cautiously as Jim Daddario stood in the office doorway, his face black with anger. Glass crunched under his feet. His expression turned even more choleric when he recognized Johnny. “Get in here,” he snapped. “Both of you.”

He stood aside to let them in, closed the door and drew a yellow curtain that restored some semblance of privacy. “Boss,” Kratz began.

“Shut up!” Daddario barked. “How many times do I have to tell you I want no donnybrooks around here?” He glared at Johnny. “What the hell do you want?”

“A net over Riley,” Johnny said.

“Riley?” The full-faced man removed his glasses. He looked from Johnny to Kratz and back again. “What about Riley?”

“He was just over at where I'm stayin',” Johnny said easily. “He gave me till noon to get out of town or else. I taped the whole conversation. I just mailed the tape to a friend of mine in New York. If he doesn't hear from me every twenty-four hours he mails the tape on to a Washington address we both know.”