The Mike Hammer Collection - Mickey Spillane [118]
Now The Snake was emerging. It was the one who engineered the whole damn business. The one nobody knew about or saw. The one who could have engineered it into a massive double cross to start with.
Blackie Conley. He really played it cute. He stood by as a lieutenant to Sonny Motley, but it was his plan to start with. He worked it into a cross and took off with the profits. He was bigger than anybody gave him credit for being. He was big enough to hold on until he felt like it and make the most incredible comeback in the history of crime.
If it worked.
And it was working.
I had been looking over the paper too long. Pete said, “You found it, didn’t you?”
“I think I have.”
“Do I get it?”
“Why not? ” I put the paper down and looked at him. “Can you hold it?”
“Better tell me about it first.”
When I did he whistled softly and started writing. I said, “If it goes out now this guy might withdraw and we’ll never get him. You can call the shots, buddy, but I’d advise you to wait. It could be bigger.”
He put the pencil away, grinning. “This is bonus stuff, Mike. I’ll sit on it. Make it mine though, will you?”
“Done.”
“Want Hy in?”
“Damn right. The office can use the publicity. Give him the same poop.”
“Sure, Mike.” He folded the news clips together and headed for the door. “Call me when you need anything.”
I waved when he left, then picked up the phone and dialed Pat. He was home for a change, and sore about being dragged out of bed. I said, “How’d you make out, Pat?”
“Got something new for you.”
“Oh?”
“Write off Arnold Goodwin. He’s dead.”
“What happened?”
“He was killed a couple of months ago in an automobile accident near Saratoga. His body’s been lying in a morgue up there unclaimed. The report just came in with his prints.”
“Positive?”
“Look, it was a stiff with good prints. He was on file. He checked out. The dead man was Goodwin. The accident involved a local car and was just that . . . an accident.”
“Then it narrows things down. You still working on Basil Levitt?”
“All the way. We’ve gone over his record in detail and are trying to backtrack him up to the minute he died. It won’t be easy. That guy knew how to cover a trail. Two of my men are working from a point they picked up three months ago and might be able to run it through. Incidentally, I have an interesting item in his history.”
“What’s that?”
“After he lost his P.I. license he had an arrest record of nineteen. Only two convictions, but some of the charges were pretty serious. He was lucky enough each time to have a good lawyer. The eleventh time he was picked up for assault and it was Sim Torrence who defended him and got him off.”
“I don’t like it, Pat.”
“Don’t worry about it. Sim was in civil practice at the time and it was one of hundreds he handled. Levitt never used the same lawyer twice, but the ones he used were good ones. Torrence had a damn good record and the chances are the tie-in was accidental. We got on this thing this morning and I called Torrence personally. He sent Geraldine King up here with the complete file on the case. It meant an hour in court to him, that’s all, and the fee was five hundred bucks.”
“Who made the complaint?”
“Some monkey who owned a gin mill but who had a record himself. It boils down to a street fight, but Torrence was able to prove that Levitt was merely defending himself. Here’s another cute kick. Our present D.A., Charlie Force, defended Levitt on charge seventeen. Same complaint and he got him off too.”
“Just funny that those two ever met.”
“Mike, in the crime business they get to meet criminals. He does, I do, and you do. Now there’s one other thing. The team I have out are circulating pictures of Levitt. Tonight I get a call from somebody who evidently saw the photo and wanted to know what it was all about. He wouldn’t give him name and there wasn’t time to get a tracer on the call. I didn’t tell him anything but said that if he had any pertinent information on Levitt to bring it to us. I was stalling, trying for a tracer. I think he got wise. He said sure, then