Never Love a Stranger (50 page)

The voice made a reply. The gunsel waited a few seconds and then spoke again. “Mr.

Cowan,” he said, “Kane is here in New York to speak to you.”

The voice spoke a few seconds. Then the gunsel said, “He wants to speak to you alone.” He listened to Cowan for a moment, then spoke again. “All right, he’ll see you at the Dauphin Hotel on Broadway—suite four twelve.” Cowan spoke again and the gunsel hung up.

The frame was set. The picture fell into shape in my mind like a jigsaw puzzle beginning to make sense.

The gunsel walked over to the girl. “It’s all set, Bonnie. You can tell the boss the D.A. will be here in a half-hour.”

She got up and started to walk out. I spoke up. “Good luck, baby!”

She turned to me and smiled. “Save it, big shot! You need it more than I do.” “Go on, Bonnie,” the gunsel said. “Beat it!”

She left the room. The gunsel turned to the other guy. “Go down in the lobby and call me when he shows up.”

The other guy went out.

The gunsel moved me to a seat between the door and himself. He sat down near the telephone. We stared at each other.

“Detroit?” I asked. He didn’t answer.

“What are you getting for this deal?” I asked. He didn’t answer.

“I’ll pay yuh double what yuh’re gettin’.” I said. “Shut up!” he told me.

I fell silent. The frame was simple: knock off Cowan as he came in the door, rock me to sleep, plant the gat on me, and the case was clear.

No one would go for my story, and that guy that wired it would gain both ways. He would have the D.A. out of the way and me on ice, and he could take over. It was Fennelli. I was sure of that. He was the only one smart enough to figure out a frame like this. Simple, but good! Establish my presence—they did that at the bar and at the desk. Up comes the D.A. on a hot tip. Bang and I was fried. I began to sweat a little.

But we sat there staring at each other as the minutes went by, and it didn’t look as if there were any way out.

I looked at my watch; there wasn’t much time left. I took out my handkerchief and wiped my forehead. If any breaks were going to come my way, they’d better start coming

—fast.

The phone rang. He picked up the receiver and held it to his ear. He listened a moment, then hung up. He got out of his chair and moved towards me. He pointed towards the chair he had vacated. “Sit there,” he told me.

I sat where he told me. A faint hammering was beginning to go on in my head. My throat was tightening.

He moved to the right of the door and stood there where its opening would hide him.

He pointed his gun at me and said: “Keep quiet and keep living!”

I spoke again—desperately. “You can’t get away with it! A frame like this won’t go. I’ll pay whatever you say.”

He looked at me. I could see a sort of contempt creep over his sullen face. “You’re all alike: big stuff until someone cuts you down to size, then you begin crying!” He made a savage gesture with the gun. “Shut up!”

A second later there was a knock at the door. The phone began to ring. I didn’t know where to look first. Automatically I picked up the phone and held it to my ear, and said: “Come in.”

The door began to open and a voice started to yap in my ear.

“Flix,” the voice was saying, “the place is lousy with cops!” I slammed the receiver down without answering, and jumped to my feet. For once I was glad someone didn’t trust me. Jerry had sense enough to bring the coppers along. He didn’t trust me. I spoke to the man at the door who was staring at me.

“There’s cops all over the place!” I spoke in a low tone. “Stash it, and I’ll cover yuh!” He looked at me indecisively. His hands were white around the gun; he half lifted it.

I took a step towards him. The gun kept going up. Jerry stepped into the room between us. He didn’t see the gunsel behind him. There were other men in the hall, looking at me curiously.

“I’m glad you called,” Jerry said. “It’s about time you got some sense.”

Chapter Ten

A
FLASHLIGHT
bulb went off, and for a second I couldn’t see. When my vision cleared, the guy behind the door had stashed his gat and was walking towards me. I remembered thinking with a foolish sense of annoyance that the next day my picture would be in all the papers. Then I laughed. “Come in,” I said. “I’m glad to see you.”

Men crowded into the room behind Jerry. “Is this a pinch?” I asked. “Not yet,” he answered. “You said you wanted to talk to me.”

“I didn’t,” I said. “It was his idea.” I pointed to the gunsel. “He arranged the meeting with a gun. It was going to be a double frame.”

The gunsel swore and his hand streaked towards his pocket. One of the detectives clipped him, and the gunsel fell. I continued to speak as if nothing had happened. “As far as I’m concerned, I’d be just as well off if I never saw you.”

The detective had the gunsel’s gun in his hand; with the other he hauled the gunsel to his feet. The gee was a little dizzy. He shook his head trying to speak. “Kane arranged it. The son-of-a-bitch! When he saw it wouldn’t take, he threw me to you.”

I laughed derisively.

Jerry turned and spoke to the cops. “Take him downstairs and clear out.”

One of the detectives spoke up. “Maybe Kane’s got a gun.” He didn’t want to leave. Jerry looked at me. I shook my head, not speaking. He turned back to the cops. “No,

he hasn’t.” He spoke quietly. “Wait downstairs for us.”

They cleared the room and left the two of us alone. I sat down in a chair. Jerry took off his coat and sat down and looked at me. “Did you tell the truth?”

I nodded. “It was a frame all right. They were going to knock you off and hang it on me. It couldn’t miss.” I took out a cigarette and offered him one.

He refused, took a cigar out of his inside coat pocket, and lit it. I lit my cigarette and we looked at each other. “Got any idea who is behind it?” he asked casually.

I smiled. Kid stuff! “If I had,” I answered, “it wouldn’t have come off.”

We were quiet again. I studied him. He had grown heavier. His face had filled out. His hair was a soft reddish brown and had a little wave in it. He had a thin moustache and full red cheeks. He was developing a little stomach. There was a sort of complacent look on his face, a sort of smugness. His lips were full.

He was doing the same for me. He leaned forward. “Hell, you’ve grown old!” The exclamation seemed to burst from inside him.

I smiled again but didn’t answer.

“I never dreamed we’d meet this way,” he said. I didn’t speak.

He watched me a second. Then his voice became plain and businesslike. “You know how things are between us. I’d like to help you but I have a job to do.”

“The old talk!” I thought. Aloud I said: “I understand.”

“I have a few questions to ask you.” He took a sheet of paper from his pocket, looked

at it, then put it back in his pocket. He looked over at me. “Did you ever meet a man named ‘Fats’ Crown?”

I nodded. “Where?”

“Around town,” I answered. “I didn’t know him very well and never bothered much with him.”

“Yet, when he opposed your organizing the gamblers into one pool, you had him killed?”

I smiled. “I had nothing to do with his killing. I had nothing to do with organizing a gambling pool. I’m a legitimate businessman.” I took a drag at my cigarette. “If this is what you intend asking me, stop wasting your time. I couldn’t tell you anything even if I did know what you were talking about.”

He froze up. “That’s how you want to play the game?”

He was crazy if he thought there was any other way to play it. If he thought I would spill just because he was a childhood friend of mine, he should have known better. I wasn’t going to give him anything that would cost me.

“Never tell ’em your right name!” I smiled.

“O.K.!” He got to his feet; he was angry. “I’m beginning to believe what that guy said

—this was your frame.”

“You think what you like,” I said.

“Look,” he said, “I’m trying to give you a break you don’t deserve because I knew you. I told you months ago, when I started, to get out, and you didn’t listen. Now I tell you I’m going to nail you. I purposely went easy on you, but from now on I’m out for blood.”

He was a lot of crap! If I could have been had, he would have had me. He wasn’t doing anything for me and wasn’t doing anything to me because he couldn’t. I stood up. “It’s your party,” I said, facing him.

“It’s going to be your funeral,” he shouted. “Quiet!” I said. “The neighbours!”

His face turned a mottled red; the cords stood out on his neck. “You lousy swine!” he shouted.

That took twenty years to come out from where he had kept it. I looked at him coolly. “You’re not so bad yourself,” I said, half smiling.

He sat down again. For the first time he used my name. “Frank,” he spoke apologetically, “I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry. I was excited. I don’t like this job any more than you do, but I have to do it.”

“Forget it, kid!” I said. “I know how you feel.”

We fell silent for a while, each with our own thoughts. “Why don’t you get out of this, Frankie?” he asked.

I didn’t answer. An explanation would be a confirmation of his thoughts. I wasn’t going to confirm anything for him no matter how he felt about me.

When he saw I had no answer he continued. “It would be easy to frame you for an attempt on my life.”

I agreed with him. “Very easy!” But was that what he wanted?

“In the long run,” he continued, “it might be giving you a break. A term not too long, not too short, would take you out of this and put you safely out of harm’s way.”

I smiled and threw the book at him. “Are you trying to protect me or the people of your city?”

He looked up at me; a new light seemed to come into his eyes. “You speak plainly.” “Why not?” I asked. “You were given a job. Do it if you can. You owe me nothing.” He stood up. “We could be friends.” He held out his hand.

I took it. “We are,” I said. “But that’s between us. Business is something else.”

He still held my hand. “I’m going to bust up your racket,” he said, smiling, “put you out of business.”

I smiled back at him. “That’s your job. You can try.” He let go of my hand. “You don’t think I can?”

“I don’t think you can,” I answered.

“Will you come down to my office Monday if I let you go now?” he asked.

He was giving me a break. I nodded. It would give me a chance to bring Carson along with me. He turned towards the door. “Be there at ten o’clock,” he said.

“I’ll be there.”

He turned and looked at me. For a moment his old smile flashed across his face. “Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas to you!” I said. I watched him walk out.

I looked down at my wrist watch. It was after twelve. I went out into the hall and down to the lobby. The room had cost me fifteen bucks. I was glad to be able to pay for it. I went outside. My car was still parked where I had left it. A parking ticket hung from the steering wheel. I laughed to myself as I sat down behind the wheel.

I drove but a few blocks when a voice spoke from the back seat. “Hello, Frankie.”

I didn’t believe my ears. It was Ruth’s voice. I half turned around in the seat and pulled over to the kerb. “How did you get here?” I asked.

She got out of the car and climbed into the front seat with me before she answered. “Jerry was at our house when you called him.”

“I didn’t call him,” I said. “It was a frame.” I told her what had happened, leaving out mention of the dame.

Her face was tense while I told my story. When I had finished she spoke. “I had hoped you were beginning to see reason.” Her voice was disappointed.

I reached over and took her hand. “Give me time,” I said. “Some day, maybe.” “But not today?” she asked.

“Today I got things to do,” I answered. I tried to change the subject. “How did you find the car?”

“I followed Jerry,” she replied automatically. She was thinking of something else. “When I saw your car I got into it and waited for you. I knew you’d be out sooner or later.”

She knew more than I did a few hours ago. I wouldn’t give a plugged nickel for my chances then. I stopped the car in front of Fennelli’s place.

“Wait here,” I said, getting out. “I got to see a guy. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

She didn’t answer. I went upstairs and rang Fennelli’s bell. If he set the frame he would be at home with a few friends. I was right. Laurens opened the door. I walked past him without speaking.

Fennelli was kibitzing a card game, a glass in his hand. He looked at me, surprised. “What are you doing here, Frank?” he asked.

I laughed, coldly, derisively.

“In New York, I mean,” he added.

That was the clincher. He didn’t have to add that if he was clean. I walked past him towards the bedroom ignoring the other players. I held the door open. “Come in here, Silk,” I said quietly. “I want to talk to you.”

Maybe it was the lights but I thought he looked a little pale. I shut the door behind us and faced him.

“What’s up?” he asked.

“Someone tried to knock off the D.A. tonight and set me up for it,” I said. “Who?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe you do?”

“This is the first I hear of it,” he protested. There was sweat on his upper lips. “How did it happen?”

I told him succinctly. When I had finished he raised his hand to his face. “Whew, that was close!”

“Too close!” I said.

“And all you saw was those three?” he asked.

I nodded. “I don’t know what happened to the other two, but the cops took the gunsel down to headquarters.”

“I’ll keep my eyes peeled, and if I get a line on it I’ll let you know,” he said. He had composed himself quickly.

“Keep an eye peeled for those three especially,” I said, “I got plans for them.” “I will, Frank,” he said, “I will.”

I turned and walked out and downstairs. Fennelli couldn’t afford to let them get where I could talk to them. I had just signed a kiss-off for them. That was O.K. with me. Fennelli wouldn’t take another chance for a while—at least not until he stood a better chance than he did at this time.