I pointed the Police Special at the seated Miller and Miller's .45 at Lang. Pretty soon Lang put his gun away, holding his hands out, palms up, empty, and put on a small but ridiculous conciliatory smile.
I didn't put my guns away.
I said. 'You boobs are finished telling me where to go.'
'Go to hell,' Miller said still sitting.
I leaned in the stall and rapped him on the side of the head with the Police Special; his hat fell off. hitting a damp spot near the stool. He wasn't bleeding, but he wasn't cracking wise anymore, either.
Lang had taken this as an opportunity to move on me. and he was as fast as a fat old lady; I slapped him with Miller's.45 and he went down on his side. He bled, a little. I put the Police Special away, dropped the.45 in the refuse bin, went over and got Lang a couple of paper towels, got one of them wet at the sink, tossed 'em to him.
'Did you guys want to talk to me or something?' I asked.
Lang, on the floor, and Miller, from his stall, exchanged glances; they were big men, and the two of them together could certainly take me. But the Police Special was stuck in my waistband where I could get at it quickly, and they knew my mood was such that going any further with this was going to be expensive.
About this time a man came in and took a leak. With Lang on the floor, and Miller sitting on the stool with his pants up, and me with a thumb and a gun in my waistband, it was obvious something was going on; so the guy didn't bother washing his hands. He probably only did half of what he came to.
'There's better places to talk,' Lang said, getting up. brushing himself off. Miller was coming slowly out of the stall, examining the damp spot on his hat, keeping his owllike face blank, but the eyes behind the Coke-bottle lenses were seething.
I buttoned my coat. 'Let's go talk outside.' I said.
I held the door for them.
The results of the Bahama Cup were being announced over the loudspeaker, and enough people must've placed the right bet. because a cheer went up. We walked down out of the stands and down the stairs onto the lavishly landscaped grounds of Hialeah Park. We found a palm tree to stand under, which was no trick.
'What's going on, Heller?' Lang said. It wasn't a demand: my presence here, understandably, had him confused, and he seemed to be doing his best not to come on tough.
'I'm down here on business,' I said. 'For a client. An attorney.'
Miller, who was standing behind Lang like another palm, said, 'What are you doing carrying a heater?'
'I'm here as a private cop,' I said. 'I'm licensed to work in Florida, and I got a special permit to cany a gun. I'm legal and aboveboard. You boys are nothing but glorified bodyguards, in Miami. Not that you're anything else in Chicago. But you got no jurisdiction here. You got no call to put the strong-arm on me, or anybody.'
Miller was openly scowling, now, but Lang was thinking that over.
'Okay,' he said. 'That sounds reasonable, I guess. What were you doing watching the mayor?'
'What do you mean?'
'We caught the sun glinting off your binoculars, Heller. You been watching Cermak, and he ain't running today.'
'Maybe he should be,' I said.
Miller said, 'What's that supposed to mean?'
'I'll tell Tony,' I said. 'That's who I'll talk to. Not his stooges.'
Lang thought some more. 'The mayor can't be bothered right now. He's with some VIPs at the moment.'
'He's begging Jim Farley for scraps, you mean.'
Lang and Miller looked at each other; it bothered them that I even knew who Farley was.
I surprised them some more: 'Is Tony going to move to the Biltmore, now. or stay at his son-in-law's place again?'
That really threw them.
¦ ¦
'What do you mean?' Lane said.
'Just answer.'
Lang shrugged. 'His son-in-law's.'
'Is he going to see Farley again tonight?'
Lane didn't answer.
'If he isn't,' I said, 'I could drop by around seven.'
'I'll have to ask the mayor,' Lang said.
'Why don't you?'
Lang looked at Miller, motioned with his head to come along, and the two went back up into the grandstand.
The rain had let up; the sun peeked through the palms. Some people started to drift out of the stands, now that
