“And again,” Johnny said. Even if the man had fours he had to have jacks, queens, or aces to win. Johnny had had a king and a ten.
The dealer wet his lips. “One card draw,” he said slowly. “One card draw.” His hand hovered over his chips, retreated, advanced again. “One more time.”
“Back at you,” Johnny said.
“Call the man,” the dealer ordered himself. His grin was feeble. “I call.”
“Two pairs of nines,” Johnny said, and showed them.
“Wins,” the dealer said miserably. One by one he turned over three queens and two fours. Johnny stuffed Mickey Tallant's money back in his pocket and raked in the pot. He was doing mental arithmetic in his head. Twenty-six hundred in there before the draw. Three men had thrown in three hundred each afterward, plus three head-to-head raises and a call. It had to be a forty-six or forty-eight hundred dollar pot. Of course thirteen hundred of it had been his own. Still a good day's pay.
“Best pot in the last six months,” a voice said reflectively.
“Don't deal me any more pat straights on four-time passed pots,” the opener said emphatically. He turned to Johnny. “You caught one?”
“Had 'em goin' in,” Johnny told him.
“Man, man, you had to have brass-bound guts to play it that way.” He shook his head. “You sure as hell led all the little pigs right up to the trough,” he added grudgingly.
“Hell with the post mortems,” one of the noncombatants on the hand just past said briskly. “Deal the damn cards.”
In the next two hours Johnny won only three small pots but he drew cards only six times. He played ironclad poker. He had it now and he intended to get out of there with it. He threw in pairs, inside straights, double-ended straights, and fourflushes. He threw in two pairs unless he was the dealer or the man in front of the dealer. In the two hours he dropped a little ante money. That was all.
He had made up his mind to stay another thirty minutes and then to pack it in when he raised his eyes across the table and did a doubletake. Standing behind a player's chair with his eyes fixed directly upon Johnny was Mayor Richard Lowell. Johnny half-rose, incredulous, from his chair. “Deal me out of this one,” he said harshly.
He circled the table and took Dick Lowell roughly by the arm and led him aside. “You crazy?” he demanded in an undertone. “How can a public official like you walk into a bustout joint like this?”
“I've got to talk to you, Killain.” The mayor's jowls were silver-stubbled and his eyes red-rimmed. The corners of his mouth twitched.
Johnny hesitated. “Walk over to the door,” he said finally. He had to get this fool out of here. Back at the table he awaited the finish of the hand. “Cash me in,” he said briefly. He had to stuff money in three pockets. “See you later, boys,” he said to the glum faces around the table watching the big winner check out.
Rudy was at the door with Lowell. It seemed to Johnny that the gambling operator and the mayor studiously avoided looking at each other. Rudy opened the door with his key. “It's a better game Saturdays,” he said. “Although I hear you should have no complaint with this one. Give us a return bout Saturday.”
“I just might do that.” Johnny took Lowell's arm and hustled him outside. The bartender was gone but a man tipped up on a chair leaning back against a cigarette machine rose and let them out. On the street Johnny turned to Lowell. “Now what kind of an idiot's trick was that, showin' your face in there?”
“I had to talk to you.” The mayor's words came with a rush. “After you left I got to thinking about what you'd said. Not being able to reach Mrs. Thompson, I mean. I tried to call her myself. When I couldn't get an answer I went over there.” He gestured impatiently at Johnny's look. “Yes, I know what time it was and I'm not drunk. There's something going on I don't understand. Anyway, I went to her apartment. She's not there. No sign of her at all. The building superintendent said he hadn't seen her for four days.”
“Four days?” Johnny echoed. Had Micheline Thompson been at the Taft with her husband after all? Johnny frowned at the dark, deserted street.
Beside him Richard Lowell drew a deep breath. “I want you to find her, Killain,” he said firmly.
“At three in the mornin'?” A thought occurred to Johnny. “How did you find me in the game here?”
“I called Daddario. He has a man on you.” The mayor said it as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
“An' I suppose the man is takin' stenographic notes while we stand here blattin' at each other?” Johnny said in disgust.
Richard Lowell paid no attention. “I want you to find Mrs. Thompson,” he repeated.
“Why didn't you ask Daddario where she was? He was glued right to her when I saw them. If she's under cover it's a good bet he put her there.”
“I accused him of it. He denied it. Professed to be alarmed, as a matter of fact. I don't doubt that he'd lie to me but I'd like to know why.” He tugged nervously at an earlobe. “I don't like it. Daddario's up to something. I'm damned if I'm going to stand flatfooted and let that-that mountebank jerk the rug from beneath me. I want to talk to Mrs. Thompson and I want you to find her.” For the first time there was a ring of authority in Lowell's voice. “She undoubtedly knows something about Daddario's movements in New York he doesn't want disclosed. I want to know what it is. How long will it take you to find her?”
Johnny stared at him. “How the hell do I know? Right this second I don't even know where to begin. An' get it out of your noggin' that I'm startin' at three in the a.m. Daylight will be plenty soon enough.” He rode roughshod over the mayor's voice as Lowell tried to interrupt. “Who's Daddario got tailin' me?”
“Probably one of Jack Riley's men.”
“Is there an all-night telegraph office in town?”
Lowell nodded. “Two blocks north and a block east. Why?”
Johnny took him by the arm again. “Let's go. It's not every day I get a mayor as my bodyguard.” With a firm grip on the mayoral arm he towed Lowell along.
“Really, Killain, I-” The mayor subsided, evidently considering a struggle undignified. He walked along beside Johnny, hurrying to keep up with Johnny's longer stride. At the Western Union office Johnny commandeered a table and dumped money from all his pockets upon it. Richard Lowell's eyes widened. Johnny sorted bills swiftly and counted out Mickey Tallant's original three thousand dollars. He made another bundle of the rest and counted again. He had thirty-two hundred dollars in the second bundle. He divided it in two, put half in his pocket, added the other half to the three thousand, and stepped up to the counter.
“Mind givin' me a money order for this?” he inquired of the clerk, and pulled a telegraph blank toward himself. He thought a moment and printed swiftly. YOUR MONEY WAS IN ACTION AND HITS HARDER THAN YOU DO. He signed it, inserted Mickey Tallant's name and the address of the Rollin' Stone above it and laid it down beside the stacks of bills the clerk was counting. He counted three times before looking up at Johnny inquiringly.
“I make it forty-six hundred.”
“I make it the same.” He waited for his receipt and put it carefully in his wallet. Outside on the sidewalk again he looked at Richard Lowell. “Who's Rudy payin' off to run wide open like that?”
“I have no idea.” The mayor's tone was indifferent.
“You're the mayor, man. You don't know what's goin' on in your own town?”
“We are not a reform administration,” Lowell said stiffly. “And I've already told you that my followers on the city council are in the minority.”
“The minority's not in on the take?”
“What makes you think there is a take, as you call it?”
“For God's sake, man, you think I was born yesterday?” Johnny demanded impatiently. “Are you in on this payoff yourself?”
Mayor Richard Lowell closed his mouth firmly. “Let me know when you find Mrs. Thompson, Killain.” He turned and started to walk away.
“Just a minute, buster.” Johnny caught him by the arm. “If I find her it could be because I'll have my own reasons. Now what the hell are yours?”
Richard Lowell freed his arm with dignity. “I thought I'd already made that clear. I think she's being coerced into something. I don't trust Daddario and I don't propose to stand still while he hunts for my head.” He stalked off up the street.
Johnny stood and watched him go. Could any reasonably honest politician afford to walk into a gambling joint
