Somewhere along the way I’d lost my smoke. I got out my Luckies, jammed a fresh one in, let the Zippo set fire to the tip, and turned casually toward the fat florid chief. “Now, what was it you wanted to see me about, Chiefie? You said to stop in.”
The chief tugged at his coat and backed away, looking toward the athlete and scarecrow for assistance, but they didn’t know quite what to do. Cops, they called themselves. Cops hell. I wished Pat Chambers of the New York Homicide Bureau had been here to see this travesty.
Somehow Beales managed to clear his throat. He pointed toward whence he’d come. “In my office, Mr. Hammer.”
“No, Chiefie. Right here is fine.”
He was trembling, too.
“Oh, for Pete’s sake, relax. I’m not going to bite you.”
The fatso finally backed himself up against the desk where Dekkert had been sitting. Sidon’s police chief was sweating profusely. I walked over next to him and parked on the desktop, picking splinters from the spot where my bullet clipped it.
“Now you look here,” he spluttered, “this is a police station. You can’t waltz in here and intimidate my men! Pulling a gun and firing it here — are you insane, man?”
I didn’t bother pointing out that Dekkert had gone for his gun first.
“That’s pretty much what I told Dekkert last night,” I remarked dryly. “Not to bother trying to intimidate me. Let’s hear something new.”
There was silence for a few seconds, then, “I could have you arrested.”
“Go ahead,” I invited, “and see what happens. My one phone call won’t be to my attorney, though. I’ll ring up the State’s Attorney’s office. They don’t have to be told that you and your punks aren’t cops, just political appointees. They know all about these small towns. Like I do.”
The chief decided he’d carry on his questioning from a chair between his two men, and got behind Dekkert’s desk to do so. He pulled a cigar from his pocket and bit the end off nervously. The scarecrow provided a flame. The chief got the stogie going, his eyes moving with thought as he searched for a way to handle me.
Right then I figured I’d let them know just where I stood. I spoke between drags on the Lucky.
“Let’s get something straight, ladies. I came here for a vacation, that’s all. I wasn’t on any case, I knew nothing about the fun and games going on in Sidon lately… until now. But for your information I’m going to cut myself a slice of this cake. I don’t know what’s really shaking around here, but if Dekkert has his nose in it, it must be dirty.”
Dekkert, who was plopped in a rear chair, as far away from me as he could get, said nothing.
“I wasn’t born yesterday,” I reminded them, “so stay out of my way. You try any funny business and I’ll have a slew of reporters from the city down here and they’ll tear this town wide open. Or if you really get tough, you’ll find some connections of mine ripping into you with everyone from the governor on down behind them. Follow?”
Chief Beales swallowed. And nodded.
“Good. Now that we have that straight, let’s get down to cases. Why did you want to see me?”
Beales made an indignant sniff. “You know why, Mr. Hammer-what is your interest in a certain local woman’s disappearance?”
“I told you on the phone last night. These overgrown members of the Hitler youth here were playing kick the can with your local beachcomber filling in as the can.”
“And you broke it up. Fine. But why did you take that dimwit back to your hotel room last night?”
I hopped from the desk ready to smack his teeth down his throat, but the two cops were covering him, hands on the butts of guns at their sides. I leaned my nose in till it was almost touching the chief’s.
“You louse,” I told him. “What did you want me to do, let him lie there and bleed? Suppose I came along and you were in trouble, and did the same thing to you? Not that it wouldn’t be a pleasure.”
I backed away a little.
He licked his lips again. “That’s not the point, Mr. Hammer.”
“The hell it’s not. When you couldn’t get what you wanted out of Poochie, you gave him the iron boot. Why? Just to warn him to keep his mouth shut? What a community. Either the citizens here are blind or just plain stupid. If Poochie had enough sense, he’d hire a lawyer and drag your sorry tails into court so fast it would make your heads swim.”
“Look, Hammer-”
“Not Mister Hammer anymore? Don’t worry, chum, that score isn’t settled yet. I’m going to cover that little guy if no one else will. Anything happens to him, I’ll give each of you sons of bitches the kind of questioning that you gave Poochie… only worse. Dekkert already got his, Chiefie… push me, and you’ll get yours for letting it happen.”
Dekkert let out a low rumble from the back of the room. The bandages were more red than white now, good and soaked, but the bleeding from his smashed nose had stopped. Whether that rumble was a nonverbal comment or just some pain finding its way out, I couldn’t say.
But Dekkert was one guy I was going to have to keep an eye on. He’d be out to get me, and he wouldn’t come at me fair next time; but he wasn’t going to get the chance. Not if I could help it.
Right now, however, he wasn’t in the mood to talk much, unless he wanted to gag on his own gore.
Beales came back with: “What did that addle-brained beachcomber tell you?”
“What he told you. Nothing. Sharron Wesley is missing and you think he either saw something or had something to do with it.”
The chief goggled at me. “How do you know her name?”
“I get around. My God, it’s so damn evident the Wesley dame’s your missing yellow-haired gal, you couldn’t hide it under a mountain. Now let me ask you something. What was she doing around here that makes her disappearance so extraordinary?”
The chief lifted his little chin and several more chins came along for the ride. “I’ll have you know she’s a permanent resident of Sidon. A most respected citizen. And we look after all our citizens.”
“Like Poochie?” My laugh was drenched in sarcasm. “Or is the special treatment reserved for the citizens that have the money to pay you off, and keep ’em covered?”
It was a shot in the dark-that the rich missing dame had the local cops working security for her-but it hit home. If something happened to her on their watch, their meal ticket would be gone, or they might be in Dutch.
The red drained from the chief’s face and his mouth opened, but nothing came out. The two cops looked at him quickly, then at Dekkert, who gave a nervous twitch from his corner.
The chief’s eyes disappeared into slits in the fat puss. Finally he asked, “What do you mean by that, Hammer?”
I’d be damned if I was going to let them know I was taking potshots in the dark.
“What the hell do you think?” I said.
I shoved my hat on the back of my head and yawned.
“Well, boys and girls,” I said, “if you don’t have anything else for me on this fine morning, I’ll just be running along. You know where to find me.”
The chief swallowed again. “How long will you be in Sidon, Mr. Hammer?”
Mister Hammer again.
I’d been meaning to go back Sunday night, but I said, “Oh, I’ll be around for another week or so. Maybe I can help you out some. Take it easy.”
At the door I stopped and added, “One other thing. Tell that zombie of a night clerk at the Sidon Arms something for me, would you?”
“Uh… what is that, Mr. Hammer?”
“That I’ll stuff that hotel register up his ass if he does any more spying on me.”
I shut the door quietly. No need to slam it, and be rude.
