known by reputation heed.”
We went in and met Zoe Eisner: a gigantic, middle-aged, chemical blonde who must have
weighed over two hundred pounds. She made a great fuss of Della and treated me with a
deference that embarrassed me, insisting on serving champagne while we talked. The
speciality of Liberty Inn, she told me with a leer, were muscle dancers and strippers.
“They’re hand picked, Mr. Ricca. We change them every month, and they come from the
four corners of the earth. You want to come in around midnight when we’re really kicking the
can around. It’s someihing to see.”
From the Liberty Inn we went across to the Pump Room, a plush and gold gambling saloon,
where I was introduced to Jerry Itta, a hawk-faced man in shirt sleeves who ran the joint. He
told me the poker game in session at the moment had been on for three days.
“We get ten per cent of the final hand,” he said, chewing on his dead cigar. “And by the
look of it, it’ll be worth five grand.”
Both Zoe Eisner and Itta seemed scared of Della, and they enquired after Wertham with
bated breath. It was the same story wherever we went. Our visits were brief, our reception
royal, and Wertham’s power always obvious.
“Time we got back,” Della said after we had met a dozen or so characters and looked over
most of the sin-dives. “We have a date with Nick.”
“There must be a fortune tied up in that alley,” I said as I got into the car. “Don’t the cops
interfere with this set-up?”
“They would if they weren’t taken care of,” Della returned, and laughed. “Captain of Police
112
Hame collects five hundred a week from Reisner. You’ll meet him before long. He’s all right
80 long as he gets his money, but if it stopped, he’d slam us shut overnight.”
“How do you reckon this set-up will make out now Wertham’s dead ?” I asked, steering the
Buick through the stream of traffic.
“I don’t think Nick can handle it. Zoe and Itta have ideas, and would like to break away
from us if they dared. That’s why I wanted them to meet you.”
“What’s that got to do with it?” She gave me a queer little smile. “It may have plenty to do
with it, Johnny.”
VI
Reisner was sitting behind a big, flat-topped desk, a cigarette drooping from his thin lips.
To his right, lounging in an armchair, was a short, thick-set man whose iron-grey hair was
clipped short, and his square, brutal face burned red by the sun. He jumped to his feet when
he saw Della, a wide grin lighting up his face.
“Why, Mrs. Wertham, this is a surprise and a pleasure,” he said, taking her hand. “It must
be almost a year since we last met. How are you? Still looking as beautiful as ever, I see.”
Della gave him a bright, provocative smile, and allowed him to hold her hand a little longer
than necessary.
“It’s nice to see you again. I’d like you to meet Johnny Ricca who’s in charge of the Los
Angeles casino.” Turning to me, she went on, “This is Captain of Police Jim Hame. He’s a
very good friend of ours.”
Hame lost his smile as he shook hands with me. He tried to crack my knuckles, but my grip
was a little stronger than his.
“Glad to know you, Ricca,” he said curtly. It seemed he only kept his charm for the ladies.
“I’ve been hearing about you.”
I said I had been hearing about him, too. Reisner got to his feet and began to mix cocktails.
“Jim has bad news for you, Mrs. Wertham,” he said as he gave Della a dry martini. “Tell
her, Jim.”
Hame settled himself in his armchair again. He took a highball from Reisner with a grunt of
