guy like you into trouble. We know all about you. You ain't bad. The boys think you're an all-right guy. Okay, that suits me, but stay an all-right guy.”
I raised my head and shot him a look. “Meanin'?”
“Just forget about Vessi, an' go on with your pen-pushin'. Forget about everythin' an' forget you ever seen me or Blondie.”
“Suppose I don't; what happens then?”
“Well, things happen, you know. The guys who run this show are big guys. They could make a smear of you if they wanted to. They could run you outta town. They could turn on the heat. Yeah, I guess plenty would happen.”
I scratched my head. “You sure got this thing worked out,” I said. “I guess I'd better think it over.” I got to my feet and hunted around for my hat. I found it lying by the door. Someone had trodden on it. I stood there working it into shape. “You better kiss Blondie good night for me... I don't think I could trust myself to do it.”
Katz compressed his lips. He didn't seem to think much of my humour. “Sure,” he said, “I'll tell her you've gone.”
I opened the door and took a step on to the landing. “I guess I'll see you some time,” I said, and pulled the door to.
I wanted a drink badly. My nose was feeling like hell, and my right eye was beginning to close. I thought a stiff drink might set me up.
When I got into the street I walked rapidly to the end of the block, hailed a taxi and directed him to a bar near my apartment.
I was glad the bar was empty. The barman gave me a long look, but he didn't say anything. After the second bourbon I began to feel better. I had a third and took that one more slowly.
My mouth was feeling sore, but I lit a cigarette and held it in my slip without much trouble. Fighting dames was going to be struck off my list of hobbies.
Although I hadn't got my five grand, I had learnt a lot. It looked to me that Vessi had been properly double-crossed. If his girl friend had joined the other side, he'd had a raw deal all round. It was over Blondie that the shooting was supposed to have happened. Maybe they had given her enough dough to fix the trial. I would have a look into this angle. Then I paused. Or should I? This guy Katz was dangerous, and I was bucking a big outfit. Was it worth going on? What had I got out of it up to now? I felt my nose and eye thoughtfully.
Unless I found out something good that would blow the lid off this business quickly, I was going to run into trouble. I ordered a fourth bourbon. Suppose I left it alone? Okay, I'd still be right where I was, and maybe I'd be a lot better off.
With the bourbon inside me, I decided definitely to go home and forget all about it. Then I suddenly thought of Mardi. When I thought of her, I felt good. Now that was my idea of a swell girl. She'd got everything. I told myself that to-morrow I'd take her out to lunch. I could do with a lot of her company.
I didn't take long to get to my apartment. As I let myself in the telephone began to whir. I hesitated before answering it. The bourbon had made me feel fine, and I didn't want any more trouble for to-night. Anyway, I answered it.
“Nick Mason?”
It was that dame again. I sat on the edge of the table. “Yeah,” I said.
“I sent you—”
“I know,” I broke in. “I've had a swell time since you sent me that five grand. You don't know what you've been leadin' me into, baby. First Vessi's old moll steals the five grand. Then I go round and see her an' we have a hell of a scrap, that's nearly ruined me. Then Katz, Spencer's gunman, turns up and points a rod at me, and tells me to lay off or else....”
I grinned a little at the sudden silence at the end of the 'phone. I guessed that had certainly given her something to hold.
“An' what is more, baby, I'm through... I ain't interested any more, so forget all about it, will you?”
“So you are not interested any more?” Her voice was very cold.
“You've got it right the very first time,” I said.
There was a short pause, then she said: “But you will be, Mr. Mason... believe me, you will be very interested before long,” and she hung up.
Just like that.
CHAPTER SEVEN
THE FIRST THING I did when I woke was to inspect the damage Blondie had done to me. I looked like hell. My nose was about twice its usual size and my right eye was closed. I looked like I'd been pushing Joe Louis around.
I went back to bed, plenty mad. With a wrecked pan like this I had to wash out taking Mardi to lunch. I couldn't expect to put my stuff across, looking the ruin I was.
I lit a cigarette and thought over my troubles. If Mardi and me were married it wouldn't matter a hoot how many black eyes I had, in fact she would be running around fixing me up and fussing me. As soon as that thought filtered through my brain I sat up with a jerk. I was crazy. Me, getting married. That was a laugh. Me, the guy who ribbed the boys who got hooked. Taking one dame on for the rest of my days was one mistake I'd promised myself never to make. And here I was, lying in bed, pondering now nice it would be.
I got out of bed and grabbed myself a drink. I told myself I'd better take some exercise or something; I was losing my grip.
