but all right. We've been sitting here getting knots on our head. You got anything for the pot?”
“I've got a candidate good for a laugh, anyway.”
“I could stand a good laugh right about now.”
“I think it's Fearless Freddie.”
“Freddie? You mean the manager, Frederick? Is he the one you were hinting at the other night when you called me and asked me if I'd checked out the help?”
“He's the one. I got to admit he's not much of a candidate, for looks.”
The ruddyfaced man tipped back in his chair, forehead creased. “You can play that contract vulnerable, redoubled. Still… Jimmy, what did we turn up on him?”
Detective Rogers spread his hands widely. “Almost nothing, literally. Hotelman all his working life, never in any trouble, unless you call a divorce trouble. I went through his folder from end to end.”
“You got a picture in that folder?”
Lieutenant Dameron's eyes swiveled from Johnny to Rogers and back again.
“No picture,” the slender man admitted.
The lieutenant's voice was mild. “You think we should have a picture, Johnny?”
“I'll tell you why I think so. This week there was a guest at the hotel who knew Ronald Frederick when he managed a hotel in the south. She went by the office and sent her name in, but he was too busy to see her, even to say hello.”
Jimmy Rogers shifted in his chair. “So we could have a bogus Frederick? I'd have to say possible-”
“-but not probable,” Johnny finished. “I know.”
Lieutenant Dameron's heavy voice broke the little silence. “Do you have anything substantial on him, Johnny?”
“I know he got his feet wet. After the fracas in the kitchen the other night, I followed him upstairs and listened in on him. He was shook, but good. He called someone and resigned from the human race, most especially from the information furnishin' branch of it.”
“Maybe we're getting somewhere,” Lieutenant Dameron said thoughtfully. “Any chance he made you listening in?”
“No way he could.”
“Who'd he call?”
“Didn't mention names,” Johnny said. “I had the switchboard alerted, but the gal missed it somehow.”
“Why did you call me that night asking if I'd checked on him?”
“Because after he'd listened to you buildin' me up in his office that afternoon, he popped up to my room on the late shift and bummed me for a drink. He sat in my place and apologized almost on his knees for taking me strictly for an oversized rigidity before on the strength of what he'd heard around the hotel. He asked about four dozen questions, gave every sign of a man about to hurdle the gap with some kind of proposition, and then said goodnight and tiptoed down the hall.”
Johnny looked around for the chair he had ignored originally and sat down in it. He looked from one to the other of his silent audience. “There's one more thing. When he backed off that night on the proposition-if he ever actually was goin' to make one-it figured that if he was in the chain of command he'd turn in a bad report card on me, in which case I was due to hear a noise.” He smiled and leveled a finger at the lieutenant. “I came out of the phone booth after callin' you, Joe, which wasn't ten minutes after that happened, and I was spread all over the sidewalk. So did he have a goon squad in his pocket waitin' for me? Or didn't he have anything to do with it at all? I haven't been able to make up my mind.”
The lieutenant nodded slowly. “I heard about that sidewalk caper, second or third hand. Fact is, I had a little talk with the party who thought two or three whacks with a gun butt would stop your clock, even temporarily.”
“It damn near did, mister. I thought his friends got him away.”
“They did, but the doc they took him to got palpitations. He didn't report it officially, you understand, but he reported it.”
“You got 'em everywhere, haven't you, Joe?”
“You were spread all over the sidewalk.”
“Yeah. I almost quit on Freddie then, because my first reaction was that it happened too quick for him to have had much of anything to do with it. I'll admit, Joe, for a while I thought he might be your original walkie- talkie.”
“My original walkie-talkie seems to have dismaterialized.”
“Permanently?”
“No body. Yet.”
“Cement takes care of that.”
“It does. I think, though, that someone, scared him.”
“Seems to be a well organized crowd, Joe.”
“Too damn well organized. That's why I can't see Frederick. He doesn't look like he could organize the ladies' aid society.”
Johnny shrugged. “Getting back to the story, Joe, there was a little sequel this afternoon to the sidewalk caper the other night.” His glance fixed itself on the red-faced man behind the desk. “The partner of the guy you talked to showed up at the apartment of Sally Fontaine, the night telephone operator at the hotel. Somebody had sent him to scare her into tellin' me to lay off. I happened to be there, which was a big surprise to him. When I busted in on the conversation, he started to go for a gun and changed his mind. I missed him from across the room with a chair, and he took off.”
Lieutenant Dameron was sitting up straight in his chair. “I know that I predicted it, but you surely are getting a lot of attention from these people. They seem to have you taped pretty damn well, which of course brings us back to Frederick.” His fingers drummed impatiently on the desk top. “I still can't-” He shook his head.
“If it isn't classified, Joe, what'd you find out about the one Dutch got with the cleaver?”
Jimmy Rogers spoke up after glancing at the lieutenant. “A hired gun from the west coast. Frenchie Dumas.”
“Usin' his own name, too; they're not bashful. Any tie-in?”
“Not on the surface.”
Lieutenant Dameron cleared his throat heavily. “This Frederick character. Where'd he work last before this job, Jimmy?”
The sandyhaired man blew out his breath sharply. “'Frisco.” The silence lengthened, and he rose briskly. “I'll get the wheels turning on that picture of Frederick.”
“It'll put him in or out,” the lieutenant agreed. “I'd like to know.” He looked over at Johnny as the door closed behind Rogers. “Maybe you've got something. Maybe.”
Johnny looked down at his hands. “I want you to do me a favor, Joe. Charge it off to that due-bill Jimmy mentioned.”
The gray eyes studied him. “I'm listening.”
“Stake out a man on that apartment, Joe. I can't be there all the time.”
It was the lieutenant's turn to look down at his hands. “I won't say you haven't got a point.” He frowned, picked up the bottle, and poured a half inch into his glass. “Write out the address for me before you leave. It's only the taxpayers' money.”
“Thanks, Joe.”
“That leaves me with the due-bill. I'll be presenting it. You going back to the hotel?”
“Yeah. How long'll it take Jimmy to get that picture?”
“Twenty-four hours, if he's lucky. Write your own ticket, if he's not.”
“Yeah.” Johnny stood up. “Throw the dice, the losers say. Come on over to our happy home when you run out of things to do, Joe.”
Outside it had started to rain; he turned up his collar and walked down the white stone steps. All the cabs that approached him were full; he shrugged and lengthened his stride as he set off for the hotel.
