I opened the sliding glass panel and tapped Willis on the shoulder. “How about pulling over at the next station for gas?”
“Oh, we have plenty, sir.”
“So fake it. I want to use the john.”
“Certainty, sir.”
A quarter mile up a flashy new service area beamed its neons at us and Willis pulled into the driveway and stopped beside the pump. The white car went by, slowing down, and rounded a turn out of sight. I jumped out, went inside to the pay phone, got the operator and gave her my number.
A voice I didn’t recognize said, “Yes?”
I recited the recognition sentence and said, “Did Chet pull that tail off me?”
“One moment, sir.” I heard him patch into another line, then Chet came on himself.
, “I thought you were going to cool it, Dog.”
“Cut the comedy, Chet. Am I being tailed?”
“Not by us.”
“Somebody’s on me.”
“Tough, kiddo. You expect anything else?”
I let out a hard laugh. “I’m not yelling for help, pal.”
“The best help you could get would be to be dead, then nobody could squeeze anything out of you. They got some pretty tricky gimmicks today to make a guy talk. I never should have voted down that hit.”
“Who are they, Chet?”
“My bet is they belong to The Turk. Three of them came in yesterday. We figured them for that new expansion operation in Jersey, but it could be anybody’s guess. We’re laying off them until they make a move.”
“The Turk ought to know better.”
“He carries a big grudge,” Chet said. “Anything else?”
“Nope. See you.”
“The hell you will,” he told me and hung up.
Hunter was busy with his paperwork and Sharon was sitting there with her head back and eyes closed when I got in the car. We eased back into traffic and a half mile down I saw the white car half backed into a driveway. It gave - us a hundred yard lead, then got behind us again. I felt my mouth pulling into a grin, then I leaned back beside Sharon and took her hand. My fingers found the ring again and rubbed against the little stone. I held up her hand and looked at it. “That thing is going to poison you,” I said.
“I think it already has.”
“Why don’t you throw it away?”
She gave me an annoyed poke and took her hand back. “It has sentimental value.”
“Worth the poisoning?”
“I think so.”
Hunter shuffied his papers, his eyes smiling at us over the top of his glasses. “Must be nice to be young.”
“I wouldn’t know. Besides you had your chance with old Dubro and blew it.”
“I didn’t blow it.”
“Okay, horny. I didn’t mean it that way.”
“Who’s old Dubro?” Sharon asked sleepily.
“Some dame he went skinny-dipping with when he still was a charger.”
“And what’s skinny-dipping?”
“Honey ... bare-ass swimming is what it is. Like last night, remember?”
“He sleep with her too?”
“Mighty Hunter didn’t have the nerve,” I grinned. “Maybe she was lucky. Counselor here has got himself a reputation.”
I saw him flush and make a negative motion with his head, his eyes darting sidewise at Sharon.
“Can you imagine being married to that old doll, buddy?”
The stem grimace twisted into a grin. “Yes, I can. Maybe that’s why I’ve stayed happily unmarried.”
“Nothing like being wedded to a job, kid. Now you can screw a tort instead of a tart.”
Sharon’s elbow jabbed into my ribs and Hunter let out a grunt, then went back to his papers.
Behind us the white car had closed up until only a station wagon separated us. Ahead was the madman maze of concrete that led into the city of fun and when we stopped at the tollbooth it pulled into the adjoining aisle and I had a look at the driver and the guy alongside him.
The Turk was stupid. He should have used somebody else. Markham, who drove the car, was an on-the-toes shooter, but he was to damn direct. He laid everything on a moustache and goatee hiding the snap in his nose and Bridey-the-Greek who rode the jump seat beside him had the idea that all his kills had gone unnoticed. A little nothing of a guy who could be buried in a crowd of two thought he was still one of the grand gang of anonymous killers. A first-class ice-pick man who could cripple or murder on order. It couldn’t be murder, or The Turk never would have sent Bridey-the-Greek along. I was to be an example. Markham would hold me under the gun and Bridey would do the job.
Shit. The Turk was laying on a twenty-five-grand job split two ways and all I could think about was why my price went down. Last year Kurt Schmidt had me on open season for a half million. The two Frenchmen tried me and after that he had no takers at all. Marco could have had me in the pub outside of London, if he had really gone for it, but what good is a half million if you’re dead? I had the .45 in my hand under the table and the sound of that hammer going back was like the crack of thunder, even if the girls didn’t hear it. But he heard it. He smiled a little bit, kissed Lisa’s hand without taking his eyes off mine and told all the others that I couldn’t be made unless it was in the back.
But The Turk was no Kurt Schmidt. He couldn’t get over his kid days of haggling for fake rugs with the tourists and would try for a fistful of cheapies before he went the big route. Or he got scared out of the marketplace.
Leyland Hunter rattled his papers back into their folders and stuffed them into his briefcase. He popped open the bar, poured himself a short brandy and downed it. “That one was for you, Dog.”
“Thanks.”
“Help yourself if you want to.”
Sharon and I shook our heads. I said, “What’s next on the agenda, pal?”
The old lawyer gave me a wry look and folded his hands in his lap. “I am empowered to conduct an investigation into your moral character. Needless to say, after our, er, recent episode that is hardly necessary.”
I had to laugh. “Old buddy, a lawyer you may be, but a psych pro you’re not. The little laughing ladies you are referring to wouldn’t cop out for all the cash in the world. You’d have to admit your own pariticpation in the group therapy and I can see the boys at the club giving you the heave-ho already.”
“You do have a point there, Doggie boy.”
“What are you two talking about?” Sharon demanded. She was giving each one of us funny looks, waiting for an answer. I spelled it out for her in a couple of succinct sentences and she glanced at me wide-eyed and started to giggle.
“Maybe I can help, Mr. Hunter. We slept together last night, all naked and warm playing tickle finger -all over until we fell asleep.”
“I would hardly enjoy involving you, my dear,” Hunter told her.
“It probably wouldn’t do any good anyway,” she said. “The big lunk refused to violate me. I could even have a doctor verify it.”
“And ruin his reputation?” Hunter smiled.
“Well, it could
