little help? This woman . . .' He looked across at Andy who said, 'Freda Scott, Little Creek.'
'Yeah . . . Freda Scott, lives at Little Creek. Salvadore knows all about her. She says Bianda took off early this morning, heading for Miami and then Havana. She could be lying. I want you to send someone out there and talk to her and when I say talk I mean give her the goddamn works. I want her squeezed dry! Don't let up until you're sure she's telling the truth . . . get it? If you have to knock her off, knock her off. Will you do this for me, Luigi?'
'Sure, Joe.' Luigi sounded expansive. 'I've got a couple of bums who'd take real pleasure in a job like that, but it'll cost. How's about a grand: guaranteed results?'
'Come on, Luigi . . . you're my friend. You wouldn't rob me, would you?'
'No more than you'd rob me, Joe. A grand and a guarantee.'
'Suppose she's telling the truth?'
'Well, then you'll know, won't you?'
Massino cursed.
'Okay. Just get moving!' and he hung up.
At the other end of the line, Luigi knocked ash off his cigar and grinned to himself. He liked nothing better than easy money and this money couldn't be easier. The time was 21.15. No point in rushing this. Besides he had to supervise his restaurant. He called Salvadore and told him to send Toni back to the Waterfront it Bar.
When Toni entered Luigi's office, he found two men propping up the wall while Luigi, at his desk, cigar gripped between his teeth, was checking the restaurant's booking.
The two men startled Toni. He was used to tough types but these two seemed to him to have escaped from a zoo. The bigger of the two had the broken face of a boxer, massively built and with a moronic grin, little beady eyes and no ears. They had probably been bitten off in some past brawl, Toni decided. The other was younger, thin, blond with expressionless eyes and a thin mouth and the deadpan expression of a pot smoker.
'Come on in,' Luigi said. 'The big one's Bernie. The other's Clive. They're going to talk to your chick. Mr. Joe gets the idea she's lying so I'm sending the boys to shake the crap out of her.' Luigi looked at Toni and grinned. 'How was she as a lay?'
'Okay, Mr. Luigi.'
'Fine. You're lucky. She won't be much after these two have worked her over. Just wise up. When's the best time for a visit?'
'Her husband leaves at five-thirty in the morning. She's on her own then,' Toni said uneasily.
Luigi looked at the two propping up the wall.
'Suppose you get over there around six? Don't worry about interrupting her coffee. Mr. Joe's anxious for news, and don't worry about her. It's a big lake.'
The two nodded and went away leaving Toni standing, uneasy and staring at Luigi. Even he, tough as he was, hated the thought of a chick like Freda in the hands of those two apes.
'Okay, Toni,' Luigi said, 'go and enjoy yourself. Everything's on the house. If you want a girl tell the barman. He'll fix you. Have a ball.'
Toni went to the bar and got drunk.
The sound of the truck starting up woke Johnny. He looked out of the window. There was mist on the lake and he could see the red rim of the sun coming up behind the pines. He looked at his watch. The time was 05.30. He reached for a cigarette and listened to the truck backing out of the parking bay, then go roaring up the dirt road.
The evening had passed with the help of the television. Freda's pigeon pie had been a success. Scott had congratulated him on his shooting. Johnny had slept badly, continually waking, dozing, then waking again. Nov, a cigarette between his lips, he took stock of his position.
If Massino was convinced by Freda's story, the heat must cool. But would he be convinced? He (Johnny) would have to stay under cover for at least another four days, then he would have to get to a telephone and call Sammy. He wouldn't dare show himself in Little Creek. Where else was a telephone? He would have to ask Freda that. If Sammy could assure him the heat was off, then he and Freda would go back to East City, take a chance, collect the money and get out of town. If Massino was sure he was in Havana, he could see no danger in again driving south. Problems! First getting to a telephone and then getting a car. There was no question now of Freda hiring a car from Little Creek. Maybe they would have to walk to New Symara . . . some walk in this heat!
He threw off the sheet and got out of bed. A cup of coffee would go well with his cigarette.
'Johnny?'
Freda came out of her bedroom. Her blonde hair was mussed, but to Johnny, with the softness of sleep still on her, she looked beautiful.
'Just getting coffee, baby. Want some?'
'Hmmm.'
She went into the bathroom.
As Johnny poured coffee into a saucepan, he thought about her. A whore! So what? Lots of women were whores, trading their bodies not for money but for presents, jewels, furs . . . whatever they yearned for. She was his woman, he told himself. Who cares about anyone's past if there is love and Johnny knew he was in love with her. He wasn't much anyway, but he would be! $186,000 made any man something!
He could feel it was going to be hot and he thought with dismay that from now on there would be no swimming, no fishing. He would have to stay out of sight.
He poured the hot coffee into a cup and as he was about to pour more coffee into a second cup, he heard a car drive up.
