The Tough Guys Page 15

  I shrugged it off. “Ran away at twelve, tied in with a family of migrant bean pickers until they all died of the flu, latched on to a rancher in Texas who made sure I went to school, joined the Army… hell, I’ve been through the mill.”

  “You look it, son, you sure do.” He cocked his head then, gave me a kind of sidewise look, his eyes studying my face intently and he said, “Damn if you don’t look familiar. You do anything important?”

  “I stayed alive.”

  “Well, you look familiar.”

  “I look like the old man, Hank.”

  He nodded slowly and finished his beer. “Yeah, I guess that’s it, all right. Come on, have another beer.”

  “No thanks, I have to shove off. Look, I’ll see you before I go.”

  “You better boy, or I’ll come after you. Where you staying?”

  I told him the name of the motel, threw some change on the bar, shook hands and walked out to the Ford. Things were looking up. The Bannermans weren’t as pure as driven snow after all.

  CHAPTER THREE

  I had my own contact in Chicago and located Sam Reed who operated a horse parlor two blocks off The Loop. I told him to get me a run down on what Matteau and Gage were doing in Culver City and after the usual stalling he told me he would. That is, if he could. I wasn’t worried about it. One word to the right people and his tail would be in a sling so he’d be in there pitching to get off the hook.

  Then I ate supper and drove back out to the estate.

  Annie was like a little bird that night, chirping and flitting around me. She had baked all the goodies I used to like and made me try some of everything before I could get out of the kitchen. Miles, Rudy and Teddy had stayed in town attending to business, but Anita was upstairs in her room.

  I tapped on the door, went in when she called and smiled at the lovely doll brushing her hair in front of the mirror. She spun, grinned and opened her arms so I could squeeze her right and said, “I’ve been waiting to see you all day.”

  “I’ve been busy, honey.” I held her off and looked at her. “If I knew you were going to turn out like this I never would have left.”

  It was the wrong thing to say. The smile left her face and those great purple eyes were tinged with that funny sadness again. “Please, Cat.”

  I nodded. “Okay, kitten, I understand.” I let her go.

  “Vance has been good to me. It… hasn’t been easy.”

  “Sure. But I just don’t have to like it.”

  “I think you’ll like him, Cat. He’s respectable, dependable… and he’s done so much.”

  “Like what?”

  She turned back to the mirror, refusing to meet my eyes. “I’d rather not talk about it.”

  “Fine, honey, one word and no more. Whether he’s a nice joe or not in your book, he isn’t in mine. Anybody who would tolerate those hoods in this house is scratching me the wrong way. So it’s your business and I’m not going to interfere, but something is screwy around here and when I go I’ll know about it. What I do about it is another thing.”

  The brush stopped its motion, then she jerked it through her hair and threw it down on the dressing table. Without looking at me she said, “It isn’t like when you left, Cat. They’re my family. They’re all I have. Please don’t do anything.”

  I switched the subject. “You have a date tonight?”

  “No… Vance is going to stay in town on business. Some property he’s involved with.”

  “Then suppose we just drop the subject, take in a club, listen to some music, see a show and dance. How about it?”

  Her smile was like music. “All right, Cat. I’ll be ready in fifteen minutes.”

  “I’ll be downstairs.”

  But I didn’t go downstairs. I went along the balcony to Miles’ room and pushed the door open. I took five minutes to shakedown his place and wasted each one. He was a clothes hog, had expensive taste and had nothing tucked away that pointed to trouble.

  Teddy’s taste was a little more flamboyant. He had a gun rack on the wall with two shotguns, a rifle and six pistols. There must have been a dozen framed pictures of broads placed around, each professional studio shots of the show girl types, each signed with endearing bits of garbage to their wonderful Teddy who had probably kept them in mink coats.

  It was Rudy who was the image of his old man. The conservative type who liked the big-business front. I went through his closet, and desk and the dresser drawers, again coming up with the big zero. His bookshelves were lined with the latest novels, predominately historical, and a set of legal tomes, just the thing any clean cut American boy would have around. The only thing out of place was an eight-by-ten photo of a well stacked brunette in a stage bikini and it wasn’t signed. The back was tacky with rubber cement and he had probably swiped it from a display somewhere. At least he showed an interest in broads. I put the picture back and went downstairs to wait for Anita.

  She was right on time, her dress a simple black thing that seemed to overflow with her, setting the dark blonde of her hair off to perfection. Just watching her come down those stairs made my stomach go hard and for a few seconds I felt all empty inside and cursed myself for having let the years go by. She had waited. Damn it, she had waited and when I came it was too late!

  “Ready?” she asked me.

  “Uh-huh. Where to?”

  “Well, you said a club…”

  “Tonight the best. After that it’s peanut butter sandwiches.”

  “The Cherokee is the best.”

  “Let’s go then.”

  About five miles northeast the shoreline jutted out into a peninsula an eighth of a mile long. Right at the tip the lights from a low, modern building fanned out into the dock area and batteries of spotlights lit up the parking site. Flanking the roadway on either side all the way in were tennis courts, pitch-’n-putt links and two swimming pools. At the very end a sedate neon sign read, Cherokee Club.

  Anita said, “How did you know where to go? This has only been up three years.”

  I didn’t tell her I’d been there before checking out the Bannerman credit. “Heard about it in town when I was finding out how much things have changed.”

  The house was full, and had it not been for Anita I never would even have made the parking lot. Every car there was one of the top three and just as the kid attendant was going to brush me off and catch himself a paste in the mouth, a big guy in a tux came over, saw her and waved the kid away. He threw up a grin and a salute, said, “Sorry, Miss Bannerman, the guy’s new here.”

  “He take the place of the one who got shot?” I said.

  “Yeah, and gettin’ help ain’t easy these days. Punk kids is all you get these days.” He stopped and thought a moment. “The other one was knifed, not shot,” he added as an afterthought. “Drive up to the door. I’ll put your car in Miss Bannerman’s usual place.”

  I slipped the Ford in gear and headed toward the building. “Pretty nice having your own slot. You come here often?”

  “Only with Vance. He enjoys the atmosphere.”

  “He gamble too?”

  Anita looked at me sharply, but my face showed nothing. “Very seldom. He’s on the conservative side. He prefers investments.”

  “Good boy.”

  Inside we got the same preferential treatment from the doorman and headwaiter alike. Before we could be shown to a table a heavyset guy with close-cropped iron gray hair came up smiling, bowed to Anita and gave me a single look wondering where the hell I came from. She introduced him as the owner, Leslie Douglas and when he heard I was another Bannerman the same smile he had for her he gave to me. Old suit or not, if I were a Bannerman I had to be loaded, I guess.

  The dining room lay like a horseshoe around a dance floor, butting a stage where an eight piece band played quiet music. There were two bars, one catering only to the men, with the casino area taking up the entire second floor. The layout was professional. Not the loose Vegas or Reno attitude that would take anybod
y’s nickel, but more on the Monte Carlo style, catering to a single class. Big Money. I felt as much at home as a cat in a dog kennel.

  For two hours we drank, talked and danced. For two hours we were those kids again laughing about the things that had happened because now they were pathetically funny. For two hours I lied to her about all those years in between then and now because I didn’t want her to know. And for two hours we were in love like nothing before and we knew it.

  But there was nothing we could do about it. She had the Bannerman pride of honesty and I had the sense to keep my mouth shut even though I felt like exploding.

  At five minutes to midnight she excused herself to go to the powder room and I waved for another drink. Before it came I saw the big guy edging over to my table, smiling and talking to the others on the way until he reached me. His nose had been broken, he had one twisted ear and under his clothes you knew there were great chunks of muscle that could hurt you bad if he wanted to.

  He nodded at an empty chair and said, “Mind?”

  “No, sit down. Want a drink!”

  “Thanks. I’m on duty.”

  “Bouncing?”

  His shoulders moved in a massive shrug. “It ain’t really necessary. I just speak to ’em generally.”

  “That’s the only way.”

  The guy was getting to something. He waited until I had the drink and leaned back languidly. “You got a rod on you, ain’t you?”

  “Sure,” I said, “but it ain’t really necessary. I just speak to ’em generally.”

  The frown broke into a hoarse laugh and he shook his head. “Like my kid says, you’re cool, man.”

  “Got to be in this business.”

  “Ain’t why I came though. Les told me you was a Bannerman. That right?”

  “Sad, but true.”

  “Couldn’t be old Cat Cay Bannerman, could it?”

  I looked at him, trying to get his point. I nodded.

  “Maybe you don’t remember me. I got my face busted up in the ring, but I was different when I was a kid. Petey Salvo’s the name. We went to the Ringdale school together.”

  I let out a laugh and stuck out my hand. “I’ll be damned,” I said. “Woppo Salvo, the kid who got his head stuck in the fence posts.”

  “You remember that?” he grinned.

  “Hell, yes, like I remember the times you and me had it out in the lots for something or other. It’s been a long time.”

  “Too long.” He let his eyes go over my face. “You do some fighting?”

  “Some.”

  “You look it. Stupid racket. How long you gonna be around?”

  “Few days, maybe.”

  “Suppose we get together some time? Plenty things changed around here. You want to meet anybody, let me know.”

  “Good idea.”

  Petey Salvo shuffled the chair back and got ready to leave. “When I first saw you come in here I thought I recognized you from somewhere. Guys I get to know are the ones shouldn’t be here so I was gonna heave you until Les give me the nod. Then I figured you was like a bodyguard to Miss Bannerman.”

  “She need one?”

  “Her? Hell, she’s the only decent one. It’s those kids who are bums. The night Chuck Maloney got knifed and everyone got questioned he paid off to get hustled out of here and didn’t even get his name in the papers.”

  I picked up my glass. “Maybe he stuck him.”

  “Yeah, that’ll be the day. Maloney was an ex-marine and had thirty-one fights in the ring and when that powderpuff can close in on him I’ll eat his shoes. He’s strictly yellow, you know that. I saw a dame beat the hell out of him one night.” He stood up and held out his hand again. “I’m around all the time. Look me up.”

  “Sure will, Petey.”

  “Stay for the next show. Real specialty number. Chuck Maloney’s wife is doing a strip. Les gave her the job to kinda help things along for her. She used to do a circuit in the east and swings pretty good.”

  “I’ll catch it.”

  Anita came back then, saw Petey leaving and said, “Company?”

  “We used to go to school together, Ringdale P. S. where the Bannermans joined the hoi polloi to have the democratic flavor infused into their veins.”

  The lights dimmed then and a spot hit the dance floor. From the band came a sharp chord that was sustained until the M.C. came out with a hand mike and got everyone’s attention. His announcement was brief… the Cherokee Club was about to offer its feature attraction for the evening, a blazing redhead who had set fire to stages all over the country and was persuaded to visit the club for a two week showing. And introducing, Irish Maloney and her drumbeat rhythm!

  The bongos and the bass started their beat, were joined by a single clarinet and out of the wings came the redhead. She was good, no doubt about that. She had crazy muscular control of every part of her body and could start a ripple going in her thighs that worked its way up her belly to her breasts and undulate back down again. She stayed there working the perimeter of the floor with her body inches away from gaping eyes for a full half hour until the drums gave out and she ran off in a wild burst of applause from everyone in the room.

  She was interesting, all right… but the most interesting part was that she was the same doll whose picture I had seen in Rudy’s room, only then the red hair had photographed brunette.

  Anita said, “She was beautiful, wasn’t she?”

  “I like you better. Ready to go?”

  “Whenever you are.”

  I paid the tab, got her coat for her, said good night to Leslie Douglas on the way out and picked up the Ford myself. The kid in charge didn’t seem anxious to tool anything less than a Caddie.

  At the house I walked her to the door, turned her around and said, “Thanks for the night, honey.”

  She was crying. “Cat…”

  “Look, I know. I know the reasons and the answers.”

  “Why does it have to be like this?”

  “Because there’s no other way. At least you’re a real Bannerman. I’m still the bastard, remember.”

  “Please don’t say that.”

  “Why fight the truth? There are two ends to the family… stay with the big one.”

  There was a funny light in her eyes when she said it. “I may at that.”

  Petey Salvo came out at three-thirty when the casino was empty. We drove a couple of miles to a drive in, ordered hamburgers and coffee and after a few minutes of old times I got to the point. “Petey… what’s with this Maloney dish?”

  “Ah, come on Cat, lay off her. She gave Chuck enough trouble. You don’t want none of it.”

  “Who says I do?”

  “Well, more guys get a stiff one for that broad than any I ever saw. She was always runnin’ and Chuck was always belting some punk who went after her. She drove him nuts.”

  “Look… what about that guy the cops are after?”

  “Him… Sanders? So he tried making a play for her and Chuck nailed him. He did it a couple more times and Chuck did the same thing. But the broad kept the guy coming back. She liked to see the action, that’s what I think. Chuck should never’ve taken her out of show biz. He was better off without her.”

  “Rudy Bannerman.”

  “What about him?”

  “He ever try for any of that?”

  Petey bit into a hamburger and scowled. “You crazy? Chuck would’ve mangled him.”

  “So did he?”

  “Ah, everybody tried one time or another. She used to hang around the tables a lot and you know how it goes. That Rudy makes like he’s a wheel to all the dames and feels good when they play up to him, but he knew what would happen. Anyway, he’s a damn drunk.”

  “So?”

  “So when he gets loaded he’s no good. I heard a couple of the kids he had out laughing about the guy. He’s…he’s… what’s the word?”

  “Impotent?”

  “Yeah. No balls. Nothin’ much else either. The dames laugh at him. Big
guy and he falls apart in bed and bawls.” He finished the other hamburger and washed it down with the coffee. “What you getting to anyway?”

  “A little matter of blackmail, I think. I’m beginning to get ideas about how Maloney was killed.”

  “Well, if you find out, let me know first. Him and me were buddies.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The first thing in the morning I called through to Chicago and got Sam Reed. In a hushed voice that always sounded scared when he was passing out a line he told me he had checked through on Popeye Gage and Carl Matteau and found out they were sent to Culver City ten days ago along with a bagman carrying a hundred grand that was going to set up an operation. The bagman came back, Gage and Matteau stayed to make sure Syndicate dough was spent like it was supposed to be. The only odd note was that although Popeye Gage was one of the “watchers,” Matteau had come up in the organization the last few years and didn’t take assignments like this unless he had a going interest in things. The word was that whatever the operation was to be, Matteau would run it. He was overseeing his product personally. The other bit was that Popeye had become a junkie and was pretty damn dangerous.

  I told Sam thanks, said I’d return the favor and gave him the name of my motel in case anything else came up. He told me he would and broke the connection. Ordinarily Sam was close mouthed and it hurt him to get squeezed.

  After breakfast I found out where Hank Feathers lived, got him out of the sack cussing up a storm until he knew it was me, then got invited over for coffee.

  Hank lived alone in a small house outside of town. The old man and he used to laugh about their escapades with the women, but Hank never seemed to stick to one long enough to make it permanent. The place was small enough for him to take care of and served as a second office when necessary, and offered all the comforts a bachelor type could need.