The Mike Hammer Collection - Mickey Spillane [90]
“Brother!” Hy poked the cigar out in the ashtray and reached for his pencil and scratch sheets.
“No story yet, Hy. Hold it back. I’ll tell you when.”
Reluctantly, he put them back. “Okay, I’ll wait.”
“Velda had Torrence’s kid with her. She took her in like a stray cat. Strictly coincidence, but there we are. The kid said she was hiding out from her old man, but whether she’s lying or not, we know one thing: two dead men and a possible third say trouble’s there.”
“How the hell can you suppress stuff like that!” Hy exploded.
“Angles, buddy.”
“Boy, you sure come on like gangbusters. I hope you’re protecting yourself.”
“Don’t worry about me.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t.”
Hy had to get back to his desk at the Tribune building so I dropped him off and went ahead to Pat’s office. The uniformed sergeant at the desk waved to me, said Pat was upstairs in new quarters and to go ahead up.
He was eating at his desk as usual, too crammed with work to take time out at a lunch counter. But he wasn’t too busy to talk to me. I was part of his work. He grinned and said, “How is Velda?”
“Fine, but not for you.”
“Who knows?” He reached for the coffee container. “What’s up?”
“What did you get on Levitt and the other guy?”
“Nothing new on Levitt. He’d been sporting some fresh money lately without saying where it came from. It was assumed that he picked up his old blackmail operations.”
“And the other one?”
“Kid Hand. You knew him, didn’t you?”
“I’ve seen him around. Small-time muscle.”
“Then you haven’t seen him lately. He’s gone up in the world. Word has it that he’s been handling all the bookie operations on the Upper West Side.”
“Tillson’s old run?”
“Hell, Tillson was knocked off a year ago.”
“So who’s Hand working for?”
“I wish I knew. Mr. Big has been given the innocuous-sounding name of Mr. Dickerson, but nobody seems to know any more about him.”
“Somebody’s going to be taking over Hand’s end. There’ll be a shake-up somewhere.”
“Mike . . . you just don’t know the rackets anymore. It’s all I.B.M.-style now. Business, purely business, and they’re not being caught without a chain of command. No, there won’t be a shake-up. It’ll all happen nice and normally. Somebody else will be appointed to Kid Hand’s job and that will be that.”
“You guessed the bug, though, didn’t you?”
Pat nodded. “Certainly. What’s a wheel like Hand taking on a muscle job for anyway? You know the answer?”
“Sure. I’d say he was doing somebody a favor. Like somebody big.”
“Yeah,” Pat said sourly. “Now the question is, who was killing who? You nailed Hand, Levitt fired two shots, and we recovered one out of the ceiling.”
“Another one got Hand’s friend in the gut. You might check the hospitals.”
“Now you tell me.”
“Nuts, Pat. You figured it right after it happened.”
He swung around idly in his chair, sipping at the coffee container. When he was ready he said, “What were they really after, Mike?”
I took my time too. “I don’t know. Not yet I don’t. But I’ll find out.”
“Great. And with all that top cover you got I have to sweat you out.”
“Something like that.”
“Let me clue you, Mike. We have a new Inspector. He’s a tough nut and a smart one. Between him and the D.A., you’re liable to find your tail in a jam. Right now they’re trying hard to bust you loose for them to work over, so you’d better have pretty powerful friends in that office you seem to be working for.”
I put my hat on and stood up. “Anything I come up with you’ll get.”
“Gee, thanks,” he said sarcastically, then grinned.
Sim Torrence lived inside a walled estate in Westchester that reflected the quiet dignity of real wealth and importance. A pair of ornate iron gates were opened wide, welcoming visitors, and I turned my rented Ford up the drive.
The house, a brick colonial type, was surrounded by blue spruces that reached to the eaves. Two black Caddies were parked in front of one wing and I pulled up behind them, got out, touched the doorbell, and waited.
I had expected a maid or a butler, but not a stunning brunette with electric blue eyes that seemed