The Tough Guys Read online

  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 any more. 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 flower beds 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.

  Then I went home. I parked the car, opened the door, walked in and flipped on the light. She was laying there naked as a jaybird on my bed with her clothes strewn all over the floor and a cigarette burning in her fingers.

  I said, “How’d you get in here, Irish?”

  “Told the desk clerk I was your wife.” She held up her hand with the rings on it. “He simply looked at this and thought you’d appreciate the surprise. Do you?”

  “Love it. You don’t mourn long, do you?”

  “Hardly a minute, Mr. Bannerman.”

  I looked at her sharply and she caught it.

  “Cat Cay Bannerman,” she said. “The desk clerk told me that too. Like you said, you are big. But you didn’t know Chuck in the Marines, did you?”

  “No.”

  “Then you must have come to see me.”

  “Right.”

  “Why?”

  “I was checking out a motive for your husband’s murder. A good nympho can get a lot of guys killed. I wanted to see how well you knew Rudy Bannerman.”

  “And I told you.”

  I put it to her bluntly. “There was somebody else… not Sanders. You were seen with him several times.”

  “Mr. Bannerman, there have been many others.”

  “This one was there often. Late.”

  Irish Maloney wouldn’t have made a dime playing poker. She frowned, thought a moment and said, “There was Arthur Sears. I liked him.”

  “What was he like?”

  “Good looking, money, big fancy Buick, treated a woman real nice. He was in love with me.” She grinned and squirmed on the bed. “He wanted me to leave Chuck and go away with him. He said he’d do anything for me and he meant it too. I like that, men wanting to do all those things for me.”

  “Why didn’t you go?”

  “And have Chuck slap me silly? Besides, he didn’t have that kind of money. When I go, I want to go first class. That takes the big kind. He knew what I meant.”

  I walked over and sat down, stretching out my legs. Irish tensed herself and spread out all across the bed, her eyes languid, watching every move I made. “Why aren’t you working tonight?” I asked her.

  “Because I was waiting for you. Petey told me where you stayed. I told you I was coming to get you.”

  “Maybe I’ll toss you out on your can.”

  “You won’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “You want me too, that’s why.” She reached her arms out. “Come, man.”

  I didn’t want to, but it had been too long. I made all the mental excuses, then I got up and went over to her. She was big and voluptuous and ready and I was there. And ready too. And I found out why any man could get a crazy desire for someone like her, even if he was Rudy Bannerman.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  I got up before she was awake, showered and left a note for her to get home and I’d see her later, then I went out and phoned Petey Salvo. It hadn’t taken the big guy long to pinpoint Gage and Matteau. They were both staying at the Orange House on Main Street and had spent the night before making the rounds of the clubs winding up at the Cherokee doing nothing more than having a few drinks and watching the action at the tables. About two o’clock Gage had gotten pretty jumpy and Matteau had taken him out. Petey had the idea Gage was a hophead and had to go somewhere to mainline one and he didn’t know how right he was. He was all for going down and nailing the pair in their hotel but I vetoed it and told him to hang on until I pulled the cork myself.

  At the restaurant I picked up the latest piece of news. Guy Sanders was on his way back to Culver City and the trial date had been set. Time was running out on the sucker.

  Hank Feathers was still in bed when I got there. Waking him up wasn’t easy and he came out of the pad swearing up a storm. I even made the coffee and it wasn’t until he had two of them down that he began to act normal. He was sore because he had to spend a couple of hours with Lieutenant Travers going over my history and couldn’t find one thing to say except that he knew my old man, I was a Bannerman and that was it. I wasn’t about to fill him in all the way and he knew it.

  He said, “You sure raised hell downtown, son.”

  “It’s about time somebody did.”

  “Fine, fine, but they dragged me in. When a Bannerman yells around here everybody jumps. You put the needle into Travers about those two guys and he’s got the lines burning all over the state. You know the pitch?”

  “Suppose you tell me.”

  “For six years the Syndicate has been trying to move in here. They got a few places started but the state pushed them out. So now they got a toehold again. Matteau’s filed as a resident and even though they know he’s tied up with a bunch in Chicago they can’t prove it or do a damn thing about it. He’s got power behind him and it moves all the way to the Capitol. Brother, this town’s got trouble.”

  “So stick around and get a good story. You still ready to step on toes?”

  “Bannermans’?”

  “Anybody’s.”

  “I’m a reporter, son. Somebody steps out of line, it’s news and I get it printed. What have you got going?”

  “Throw a monkey wrench into the Sanders thing. Make it look like a trial of political expediency. Hit the D.A. and get the paper to press for a full investigation… anything to delay the trial. Give it enough coverage so they won’t be able to get a jury that hasn’t read or heard about it. Can you do that?”

  “Sure, but I may get canned and I’m almost at retirement age.”

  “Take a chance.”

  “Boy, do I live dangerously.”

  “Don’t we all,” I said.

  Petey Salvo got me into the Cherokee Club before anyone was there and I headed for the kitchen. He dug around in the cutlery drawers a few minutes pulling out every form of knife they had there until he had a sample spread out on the butcher’s block of every one. Most were of the common variety, there was one I picked up and scrutinized carefully before I put it in my inside pocket wrapped in a napkin.

  “What’re you gonna do with that?” Petey asked me.

  “Give it to the police surgeon who examined Chuck’s wound.”

  “The guy said he got it with a stiletto.”

  “Look at the steak knives, friend. They’re specialty numbers and might do it. Instead of tossing the murder weapon away, suppose a killer simply put it back in service. A check shows nothing gone, a weapon was available, and what happens?”

  “You got me,” he said. “What?”

  “A killer gets away with murder.”

  Because I was a Bannerman, Dr. Anthony Wember was willing to make the comparison. He was skeptical, but had to admit there was a possibility that the knife I offered might have inflicted the wound. He couldn’t be certain because of the peculiar nature of the cutting and puncturing combination in Maloney’s chest, but it was a thought and he would consider it. He had gone to great lengths to establish the nature of the weapon and a stiletto type it was; pointed, sharp along one length at least, straight blade with a rising center. He seemed to think both edges had been ground, but again, it was speculation. The doctor said he’d check it again to be sure and would make the information available.

  At least to a Bannerman.

  When we left it was time to do the other thing. Petey was all smiles when we got to the Orange House because he knew the ropes and how to work it and got a pimply faced kid in a bellboy’s uniform to get the key we wanted. I knocked while he stayed out of the way and when Pop-eye Gage opened the door he wasn’t a bit worried because he had a gun in his fist and said, “Hey Carl, look who we got. The punk’s back and asking for it.”

  Matteau looked up from his paper, put it down and stood up with a grin wreathing his face. “Couldn’t take a lesson, could you, boy?”

  “I told you not to call me that.” I started toward him fast.<
br />
  “Hold it,” Gage said. He walked up behind me and let me feel the muzzle of the rod. I maneuvered them just right so I had them with their backs to the door and they didn’t hear Petey come in and never knew he was in the room until he slammed their heads together with an unearthly crack that put them unconscious on the floor for an hour.

  But it took us that long to shake the place down. We came up with three .38’s, a half a case of booze and forty-two hundred bucks in cash, but that was all.

  Popeye Gage was the first one to open his eyes. He saw Petey leaning over him and tried to fake it, but the act didn’t hold. Petey dragged him to his feet and held him up against his chest and you never saw fear in a guy’s eyes before unless you saw his.

  I said, “Put him in the chair, Petey. We have something special for him.”

  “Let me give him something special, Cat.”

  “Save it for the other one. I know what will make this one talk.”

  Petey threw Popeye halfway across the room into an overstuffed chair and the punk cringed there shivering because he found something that didn’t play out the way he thought it would and he was almost ready to hurt.

  Carl Matteau wasn’t quite so easy. He had gone the route before too and decided to take it cursing and swearing all the way, but no matter what Petey did to him he wasn’t about to spill his guts. I was figuring on that and let him go through the rough stuff until the blood ran down his chin and his eyes were rolling in their sockets and said, “We want the knife, Carl. What do we do to get it?”

  “Go screw yourself.”

  I hit him myself this time. I laid one on him that sent him out of the seat to the wall and he sat there on the floor glowering at me.

  “You hit the wrong one, buddy. You’re in a trap now.”

  He said two words.

  Petey gave him one then and he went out cold.

  Over in the corner Popeye Gage started to whimper. Petey said, “They done it, right?”

  “They didn’t done it,” I told him. “They were just part of it.”

  “I’ll kill ’em if you want, Cat. We can dump…”