She smiled. ‘I think you’re recovering,’ she said.
‘If I’m not, this is as good a way to go as any.’
‘Better,’ she said.
She slid her leg up over his hip, moved her hand around her back and down between her legs and touched him, stroked him, held him against her, and began moving slowly back and forth.
This time Sharky didn’t fall asleep.
‘What time is it?
‘Four-thirty.’
‘How long have I been laid out?
‘That’s a terrible way of putting it.’
‘Yeah, right. How long have I been knocked out?
‘Almost twelve hours. How do you feel?’
‘I think I may be able to get up.’
‘You did okay a few minutes ago.’
‘I mean on my feet.’
‘Okay, want me to help?’
‘1 need a shower.’
‘1 gave you an alcohol bath for the fever. You smell like a baby.’
‘Need a shave.’
‘I shaved you.’
‘Need some decent clothes.’
‘Arch went by your place and brought some over.’
‘I sure rate, don’t I?’
‘Urn hm.’
‘How about Friscoe? Papa?’
‘They’re waiting out there for you, in the living room.’
‘Are we still in the ballgame?’
‘Do you think Arch would break a promise to a sick friend?’
‘Tell them I’ll be out in a minute.’
They assembled in Hazel’s living room. All of them looked better. They had cleaned themselves up, had a little sleep, and recovered from the initial shock of The Nosh’s death.
Sharky was wearing his only suit, a tweed, with a fawn- coloured shirt and a dark brown tie.
‘How come you brought my Sunday suit?’ he asked Livingston.
‘You’re going to a party.’
‘A party?’
‘We got a plan,’ Friscoe said.
‘A plan?’
‘You got a little catchin’ up to do there, Sharky,’ Friscoe said. ‘First off, this DeLaroza ain’t your everyday garden variety squirrel, know what I mean? I mean, this guy’s big potatoes. He’s powerful. He’s got half the world by the ass. He’s untouchable. And he’s Siamese twins with Donald Hotchins.’
‘The senator?’
‘Who’s about to announce that he’s running for president,’ Domino said.
‘Jesus! What did we get into?’
‘Well,’ Friscoe said, ‘that depends. On the one hand, we may come out with the roses. On the other hand, we may come out with our foot in a bucket of shit, pardon the French, ladies.’
‘Somebody catch me up,’ Sharky said. He was still feeling weak, like someone who has slept too long.
‘Okay, I’ll do the honours,’ Friscoe said. ‘First, see, we know we can pin Scardi to the Tiffany killing if we can collar him. Also The Nosh. Although we ain’t found him yet, I think we can peg that one on him too because of the m.o. By the way, I scored a few baskets myself last night. That fag movie actor was makin’ the bets at the Matador Club? Nailed his ass, too. Had him under the lights all fuckin’ night, pardon the French, ladies, and about nine this morning he starts singin’ like Frank Sinatra. What it was, see, he was puttin’ down bets for this guy Kershman who works for DeLaroza. A big shot. So we get our hands on this Kershman, we may be able to tie the can to DeLaroza’s tail. Incidentally, there’s another tie-in. The car you pinched to come back here with is registered to this Kersh.man.’
‘You got a description?’ Sharky said. ‘What’s he look like?’
