Микки Спиллейн - The Long Wait

Her eyes got a little cloudy, but she didn’t say anything until I took her arm and walked her outside. Going down the stairs she said solemnly, “You’re in an awful lot of trouble, Mr. McBride. You know that?”

“Yeah,” I answered, “yeah, I guess I am at that.”

There was a bar right across the street from the building and it didn’t take much persuasion to steer her in and onto a stool set at right angles to the street. Her name was Carol Shay, she was twenty-six years old, had an apartment downtown someplace, a yearning to try her luck in the movies and a yen for one Manhattan after another.

After a half dozen of the things she got giggly and tugged on my sleeve until I turned around. “You’re not talking to me, Mr. McBride.”

“I was watching the office across the street. Thought maybe I’d have a chance to see my pals come out. It would’ve made good watching.”

She giggled again and sipped her Manhattan. “Oh, forget them. They’ll go down the back way.”

My ears picked up at that. “Why?”

“Keeps the car down there. All his private appointments come up that way.”

“Then what’s he got you for?”

She squealed into her glass and raked her nails across the back of my hand. “He likes to look at me. Besides, I’m dumb.” Her eyes came up and laughed into mine. “I really am,” she insisted.

I grinned back at her. Platinum head was dumb all right. Like a fox. For a hundred bucks a week she could afford to be as dumb as they come.

She said, “Why’d you hit Lenny? Did you really do like you said?”

“Uh-huh. A little guy too. His name was Eddie.”

“You did!” Her eyebrows were perfect parentheses, nearly reaching her hair. “That’s Eddie Packman.” Her voice went down to a lower register. “He’s worse than Lenny.”

“Swell. It’ll be more fun when we meet up again.”

“You’re crazy!”

“Nope, just mad. How long was Lenny in his office today?”

“All day.”

“Sure?”

“Of course I’m sure. He was in his office with the others since nine this morning. They even had their lunches sent up. Why?”

“Oh, nothing special. Somebody tried to bump me this morning and I was wondering if it could have been our boy.” I got another incredulous stare before she turned back to the bar. “He could have gone down that back way you mention,” I said.

“No. He was there. I had to call in for him often enough.”

I hooked my finger under her chin and pulled her head around. “Not that often. I bet there was at least an hour there when he never was near his phone. Right?”

“I... I don’t know. I just don’t know.”

“That’s okay,” I said, “all I want is enough to make it look like it could have been him. That’s enough reason for taking him apart.”

“I need a drink,” she said. “I hope to hell nobody sees me sitting here with you.”

So I got her another drink, watched her drink it and bought one more to keep it company. “What’s the score up there, Carol?”

I could see her fingers freeze around the glass. “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean. Is that place the headquarters for everything that happens in this town?”

She took a long time before nodding her head.

“Like what?”

Her smile wasn’t so bright this time. It seemed a little sad and a little lost. “Look, feller, I’m dumb. I’m beautiful but dumb. If you want to play any games, keep them between you and Mr. Servo or Eddie Packman. I don’t know anything at all and I’m glad I don’t because if I did you’re just the kind of a guy who could put on an act I’d go for and make me put myself in a jam.”

“Like me?”

“You’re nice.”

“Say it better.”

She propped her chin in her hand and looked at me sleepily. “I like big guys. I like the ones who can come out on top and who don’t give a damn for anything. I like them smart and beefed up so they don’t have to wear any padding in their suits. I like mean faces and short haircuts. I could go for a guy who could slap Lenny Servo around and get away with it. The only trouble is they never live long enough for me to enjoy.”

“You tried it already?”

“That’s telling.”

“Your boss isn’t a good guy to kick the crap outa, huh?”

“Nope.”

I lit a butt and threw a shaft of smoke around the glass in front of me. “I hear he’s a ladies man.”

“Nuts. He’s a male nympho, whatever that is.”

“A saytr. Who’s his current?”

“Some hot number from upstate who knows that the best way to his heart isn’t through his stomach. He keeps her in nylons in his apartment.”

“Look,” I said, “what do you think will happen to me?”

A frown flitted across her face. “I... don’t know, really. Somebody...”

“Go on.”

“Things just happen, that’s all. Don’t ask me questions like that. If I were you I’d take the first train out of here.” Her fingers closed over mine. “Do me a favor... leave.”

“I like it here.”

The glass sat on the edge of her lip a moment, then tipped sharply as she drained it. The bartender came over and made her another one without asking. It was on the house. “You would,” she said, then knocked that drink off too. When she turned around her mouth was pulled down wryly. “Damn all big guys. Come on, take me home.”

When she got off the stool she almost went on her nose. I got her outside, whistled down a cab and shoved her in. By the time we reached her apartment she was all giggles and insisted on me seeing her to the door.

The only trouble was, she fell asleep in the elevator and I had to carry her from door to door looking for Shay on a nameplate until I found it, then fish out a key from the bottom of her handbag to get in.

It was a tricky little three-room apartment with the bedroom opening off one corner of the living room. I kicked the door open, dumped her on the bed and tossed her bag on the dresser.

I started to leave when she said plaintively, “You forgot to undress me.”

And there she was grinning at me, her eyes swimming through the blur of the Manhattans, but still very much awake.

“The zipper runs all the way down the back,” she said.

“I know. And there’s only one hook on the gimmick and your stockings are held up by adhesive tape.”

She giggled again and raised one leg up slowly. Her dress fell back as far as it could ever get until she was all nice bare skin and sheer nylon that sent fingers crawling up the back of my neck. “You’re so right,” she said. “Now unzip me.”

I stuck two cigarettes in my mouth, lit them and tossed one on the bed beside her. “Some other time.”

She sure knew how to pout. She let her leg fall and picked up the butt from the spread. “You’re mean.”

“Yeah, a real killer.” I grinned again and walked out.

She let me get as far as the front door. “If you want, you can come back here and hide from Lenny. Forever.”

Nice kid. Obliging.

“Maybe I will,” I called back. I stepped outside, tried the door to make sure it was locked and got in the elevator.

I was all the way down on the street when I remembered that I’d wanted to ask her if that peroxide didn’t sting like hell.

I expected an ultra-modern apartment house with a doorman. I got a six-story affair with self-service elevator. I expected a bronze doorknocker shaped like a roulette wheel. I got a brass push button. I expected a name embossed in gold and got a plain printed card in a metal frame.

I expected anybody to open the door but a sleepy-eyed vixen with flaming red hair who offered me a drink out of her glass before she said hello. I took the drink because it seemed like the polite thing to do.