Mickey Spillane - The Girl Hunters

"I'll tell you why," I said. I leaned on the table feeling my hands go open and shut wanting to squeeze the life out of somebody. "Both tries were deliberately sour. They were pushing me. They wanted me to move fast, and if anything can stir a guy up it's getting shot at. If I had anything to hide or to work at, it would come out in a hurry."

"But you didn't bring anything out?"

I grinned at him and I could see my reflection in the glass facing of the autographed pictures behind his head. It wasn't a pretty face at all, teeth and hate and some wildness hard to describe. "No, I didn't. So now I'm a real target because I know too much. They know I don't have Velda's location and from now on I can only be trouble to them. I'll bet you that right now a hunt is on for me."

"Mike--if you called Pat--"

"Come off it. He's no friend anymore. He'll do anything to nail my ass down and don't you forget it."

"Does he know the facts?"

"No. The hell with him."

Hy pushed his glasses up on his head, frowning. "Well, what are you going to do?"

"Do, old buddy? I'll tell you what I'm going to do. I'm going after the missing piece. If I weren't so damn slow after all those years I would have caught it before. I'm going after the facts that can wrap up the ball game and you're going with me."

"But you said--"

"Uh-uh. I didn't say anything. I don't know where she is, but I do know a few other things. Richie Cole came blasting back into this country when he shouldn't have and ducked out to look for me. That had a big fat meaning and I muffed it. Damn it, I muffed it!"

"But how?"

"Come on, Hy--Richie was a sailor--he smuggled her on the ship he came in on. He never left her in Europe! He got her back in this country!"

He put the cigar down slowly, getting the implication.

I said, "He had to smuggle her out, otherwise they would have killed her. If they took a plane they would have blown it over the ocean, or if she sailed under an assumed name and cover identity they would have had enough time to locate her and a passenger would simply fall overboard. No, he smuggled her out. He got her on that ship and got her into this country."

"You make it sound easy."

"Sure it's easy! You think there wasn't some cooperation with others in the crew! Those boys love to outfox the captain and the customs. What would they care as long as it was on Cole's head? He was on a tramp steamer and they can do practically anything on those babies if they know how and want to. Look, you want me to cite you examples?"

"I know it could be done."

"All right, then here's the catch. Richie realized how close The Dragon was to Velda when they left. He had no time. He had to act on his own. This was a project bigger than any going in the world at the time, big enough to break regulations for. He got her out--but he didn't underestimate the enemy either. He knew they'd figure it and be waiting.

"They were, too," I continued. "The Dragon was there all right, and he followed Cole thinking he was going to an appointed place where he had already hidden Velda, but when he realized that Cole wasn't doing anything of the kind he figured the angles quickly. He shot Cole, had to leave because of the crowd that collected and didn't have a chance until later to reach Old Dewey, then found out about me. Don't ask me the details about how they can do it--they have resources at their fingertips everywhere. Later he went back, killed Dewey, didn't find the note Cole left and had to stick with me to see where I led him."

Hy was frowning again.

I said, "I couldn't lead him to Velda. I didn't know. But before long he'll figure out the same thing I did. Somebody else helped Cole get her off that boat and knows where she is!"

"What are you going to do?" His voice was quietly calm next to mine.

"Get on that ship and see who else was in on the deal."

"How?"

"Be my guest and I'll show you the seamier side of life."

"You know me," Hy said, standing up.

I paid the cabbie outside Benny Joe Grissi's bar and when Hy saw where we were he let out a low whistle and said he hoped I knew what I was doing. We went inside and Sugar Boy and his smaller friend were still at their accustomed places and when Sugar Boy saw me he got a little pasty around the mouth and looked toward the bar with a quick motion of his head.

Benny Joe gave the nod and we walked past without saying a word, and when I got to the bar I held out the card Art Rickerby had given me and let Benny Joe take a long look at it. "In case you get ideas like before, mister. I'll shoot this place apart and you with it."

"Say, Mike, I never--"

"Tone it down," I said. "Bayliss Henry here?"

"Pepper? Yeah. He went in the can."

"Wait here, Hy."

I went down the end to the door stenciled MEN and pushed on in. Old Bayliss was at the washstand drying his hands and saw me in the mirror, his eyes suddenly wary at the recognition. He turned around and put his hands on my chest. "Mike, my boy, no more. Whatever it is, I want none of it. The last time out taught me a lesson I won't forget. I'm old, I scare easy, and what life is left to me I want to enjoy. Okay?"

"Sure."

"Then forget whatever you came in here to ask me. Don't let me talk over my head about the old days or try and make like a reporter again."

"You won't get shot at."

Bayliss nodded and shrugged. "How can I argue with you? What do you want to know?"

"What ship was Richie Cole on?"

"The Vanessa."

"What pier?"

"She was at number twelve, but that won't do you any good now."

"Why not?"

"Hell, she sailed the day before yesterday."

What I had to say I did under my breath. Everything was right out the window because I thought too slow and a couple of days had made all the difference.

"What was on it, Mike?"

"I wanted to see a guy."

"Oh? I thought it was the ship. Well maybe you can still see some of the guys. You know the Vanessa was the ship they had the union trouble with. Everybody complained about the chow and half the guys wouldn't sign back on. The union really laid into 'em."

Then suddenly there was a chance again and I had to grab at it. "Listen, Bayliss--who did Cole hang around with on the ship?"

"Jeepers, Mike, out at sea--"

"Did he have any friends on board?"

"Well, no, I'd say."

"Come on, damn it, a guy doesn't sail for months and not make some kind of an acquaintance!"

"Yeah, I know--well, Cole was a chess player and there was this one guy--let's see, Red Markham--yeah, that's it, Red Markham. They'd have drinks together and play chess together because Red sure could play chess. One time--"

"Where can I find this guy?"

"You know where Annie Stein's pad is?"

"The flophouse?"

"Yeah. Well, you look for him there. He gets drunk daytimes and flops early."

"Suppose you go along."

"Mike, I told you--"

"Hy Gardner's outside."

Bayliss looked up and grinned. "Well, shoot. If he's along I'll damn well go. He was still running copy when I did the police beat."

Annie Stein's place was known as the Harbor Hotel. It was a dollar a night flop, pretty expensive as flops go, so the trade was limited to occasional workers and itinerant seamen. It was old and dirty and smelled of disinfectant and urine partially smothered by an old-man odor of defeat and decay.

The desk clerk froze when we walked in, spun the book around without asking, not wanting any trouble at all. Red Markham was in the third room on the second floor, his door half open, the sound and smell of him oozing into the corridor.

I pushed the door open and flipped on the light. Overhead a sixty-watt bulb turned everything yellow. He was curled on the cot, an empty pint bottle beside him, breathing heavily through his mouth. On the chair with his jacket and hat was a pocket-sized chessboard with pegged chessmen arranged in some intricate move.