Mickey Spillane - The Tough Guys

My chubby cousin had a nice setup. All the accoutrements for the idle rich. A mahogany desk, antique furniture, a well organized bar, golf clubs stacked in the corner with parlor-putting devices in a rack on the wall, a couch under a row of book shelves, a stereo hi-fi set and TV built into the walls and that was the order of business.

Except for Rudy Bannerman. He was stretched out on the couch with a wet towel across his forehead and when he saw me he pulled the towel off and sat up with an expression of pure fear on his face.

"Hello, Cousin," I said. I toed a chair in close to the couch and sat down. "You're shook, cousin. You're thinking of what it feels to be a killer. You're going through the pain of relief because they finally caught up with Guy Sanders."

"Cat . . ." He licked his lips nervously.

"I'll tell you, cousin, but first I want some answers. Talk back or hand me any crap and I'll slap you silly. We're not kids anymore. You're not a few years older and twenty pounds heavier where it counts. Now you're older and a pig and I can tear your ears off."

He couldn't take it. He flopped back on the couch reaching for the towel. I said, "You had a picture of Irish Maloney in your room. Where did you get it?"

"I . . . from the display at the Club."

"Why?"

He came up from the couch, his face livid. "I don't have to put up with this! I'm going to call the police. I'm . . ."

"Knock it off."

Rudy looked like he was going to have some kind of attack. He came apart in little pieces until his round body began to heave with jerky sobs and once again he went back into the contour of the couch and stayed there.

"I asked you a question. If you want the police, they can ask it."

"She . . . was nice."

"How often did you see her?"

"She didn't want to see me. I was a Bannerman and that tramp . . ."

"How often, Rudy?"

"A . . . few times, that's all. She . . . she didn't like me."

"I wonder why."

"She didn't have to say the things she did."

"How did you kill him, Rudy?"

His head rolled toward the wall. "I don't remember. I was . . . drunk. Sick."

"When did they put the bite on you?"

"Who?"

"Gage and Matteau. When did they make their offer?" I asked him.

"Two days later. They . . . went to father. He had Vance see them. There was nothing we could do. Nothing at all." His voice trailed off to a whisper.

"When do they want the dough, Rudy?"

He was on his side now, not able to look at me at all. He was like a baby in bed, seeking the comfort of crib and covers. "Saturday," he got out.

Three days from now. To get a million bucks up meant a lot of converting and it wasn't going to be easy and here was this slob sitting on his tail crying. Whatever stocks and properties were going into the pot for this little venture must be damn negotiable to be taken so lightly. In this day of taxes and paperwork a million bucks to line a hood's pockets wasn't easy to lay hold of. Taxes alone on that kind of loot would be enormous.

"Who's handling the arrangements, Rudy?"

"Vance . . . he's doing everything."

"Why him?"

"Father is . . . sick. He gave Vance our power of attorney."

I climbed out of the chair and started towards the door. This time Rudy turned over when he heard me leaving. The pathos on his face was disgusting. "What're you . . . going to do, Cat?"

"I don't know," I said. "Maybe I'll turn you in and watch you burn."

Petey Salvo lived in the house he had been born in. There was a kid in a carriage, a couple more under school age tearing the flowerbeds up and a twelve-year-old boy sick in bed with a cold. The others were in their classrooms and Petey was trying to grab a bite and argue with his wife at the same time.

At least I got him off the hook in a hurry. A Bannerman coming to visit the Salvos was the biggest day in her life and when he introduced me the busty doll in the pink housecoat with a headful of curlers almost broke a track record getting into the bedroom to get herself straightened out and when she came back she looked at her husband with a totally different look in her eyes and I knew from then on things were going to be different around there. Petey caught the bit too and winked at me over his coffee cup and told her to blow with a voice of authority and like a dutiful wife she left bowing and scraping like I was the baron of Bannerman Estates. Luckily, he didn't mention I was the bastard one.

He shoved some biscuits my way and I buttered up. "How're your contacts around town, Petey?"

"Like what?"

"Two hoods are in from Chi. I want them located." I gave him their names and descriptions and he took them down in his head.

"No trouble. Maybe need a day."

"Too long."

"So I put out the word and we grab 'em. These the same ones hit you in the motel?"

"That's right."

"I thought so. I was wondering when you was gonna move in. You never let yourself get took before."

"I had a reason, Petey."

"Figured that too. How do you want to work it?"

"Just get 'em spotted. I'll do the rest."

"Like hell, Cat. If this ties in with Chuck I want part of it."

"You'll get cut in, buddy. I have a feeling I'm going to need you."

"You'll buzz me in a coupla hours. I'll see what I can do, okay?"

"Got it."

Simon Helm had had visions of money dangled before his eyes. He was waiting for me with photostats of the records he had accumulated and all the additional information he had picked up. He pulled a chair out for me, got behind the desk and swung the folder around for me to view his massive efforts in my behalf. "There it is, Mr. Bannerman, but I'm afraid it's all too late. Vance Colby picked up the option on that property for ninety thousand dollars. The option to be exercised within three months. The property alone is worth in the vicinity of a quarter million and his proposed installation will go a half million, at least. At this point I don't know if he is acting for himself, or another party, but in view of his past and knowing his method of operation, I'd say he was simply first man in a deal. You understand?"

"I get the picture. The property is out, right?"

"Definitely. The money has changed hands. The option has been signed. I'm afraid you'll have to consider other properties."

I shoved my hat back and wiped my face. "Guess I'll have to. I'll take a run out and look at the other places tomorrow. Sorry to put you to all the trouble."

"No trouble at all, Mr. Bannerman. Take your time and if you need any help, just call on me."

"Thanks, Mr. Helm, I will. Count on it."

I got gas down the corner and put in a call to the house. Annie answered and when I asked for Anita, put her on. I said, "Cat, honey."

"Where are you?"

"In town. You have any news?"

When she spoke her voice was hushed. "Uncle Miles is in his room with Teddy. They've had people here all day and didn't want me around. That one man was here too."

"The older guy, Matteau?"

"That's the one." Very softly she said, "Cat . . . what's happening?"

"Trouble, baby. Where's Vance?"

"He just left. It was . . . terrible. They won't back down. They want all that money and . . ."

"Don't worry about it, Anita."

"I heard that . . . that . . . Matteau tell Vance . . . if he didn't get everybody straightened out somebody else would get killed. He's vicious. Cat . . . please help us, please. Vance is doing all he can, converting all his properties to help Uncle Miles. Cat, I'm frightened."

"Relax, doll. I'm beginning to get ideas. You just sit tight, hear?"

"I can't. Oh, please, Cat, do something."

"I will, baby," I said. "I will."

I hung up and stared at the phone a moment. A lot had fallen into place, now it was time to play the calculated hunches. I made a collect call to the coast and got Marty Sinclair and gave him the dope I wanted. I told him to push it and reach me anytime at night at the motel if he had to, otherwise I'd call him back tomorrow.