“Did you see these two?”
“Not when I went in.” I handed the photos back and he stuck them in the envelope. “How did I come into this?”
“The attendant remembered the limousine you came in. We checked the license out, contacted your friend Leyland Hunter and he gave us you.”
“I can give you my other friend’s address too if you want.”
“Never mind. We have that.”
“So?”
The two cops glanced at each other, not quite decided whether to be puzzled or aggravated. The younger one said, “We thought you might have seen something. They came in right after you. One wanted to know if that alcove went out to the street. The attendant said it went to the john and they headed in that direction.”
“There wasn’t anybody around when I came out,” I told him. “There were plenty of parked cars, though. Somebody could have been behind them.”
Sergeant Tobano’s mouth was in a taut smile. “You didn’t seem very shook up over those pictures. Not like your friend here.”
“I’ve seen dead men before, Sergeant.”
“These aren’t dead, Mr. Kelly.”
Lee breathed a quiet
They both moved toward the door. “Okay, thanks. We may check back.”
Tobano was reaching for the doorknob when I asked him, “Who took those pictures, Sergeant?”
“A free-lance photographer who happened on the scene right after you left. He ought to make himself a buck from them.”
“He a suspect?”
“Nope. One of the boys who parked cars happened to go in with him at the same time. The other guy fainted.”
“Queasy stomach,” I said, and picked up my drink.
“Some people are like that,” the sergeant told me.
When they left, Lee half ran to the bar and poured himself another drink. He finished that one and made another before he turned around. A shudder ran across his shoulders and he swirled the ice around in his glass. Finally he raised his head and stared at me. “You lied to them, Dog, didn’t you?” ,
I finished my drink too and joined him at the bar for another.
“Yes.”
“You actually saw them there ... that guy with his face all mashed in and the other one ...”
I raised my glass in a silent toast. “Hell, buddy, I
I knew the call would come so I sat up and waited for it. At ten minutes past three the phone rang and I told Chet Linden to meet me at the Automat on Sixth Avenue. There was a deadly evenness to the tone of his voice and I could feel the mad seeping up my arms into my shoulders.
They were waiting at a table in the back for me, Chet and Blackie Saunders, the wipe-out boy from Trenton, sipping coffee like a couple of night owls on the way home. I faked sneezing into a handkerchief and had my face hidden when I went past their backup man who made like he was looking in a storefront window next to the Automat. I turned the corner, cut back and had the nose of the .45 in his ribs without him spotting me and said, “Lets join the others, buddy.”
His reaction was real pro. Just a simple shrug of the shoulders and he headed toward the door. There might have been others, but with three under my gun, nobody was going to make any trouble at all.
When they saw us coming the picture was all there. Blackie started to rise, but Chet waved him down and nodded to me like nothing had happened at all. I took a seat with my back against the pillar, told the outside man to join me and looked at all three unpleasant faces.
“Coffee?” Chet asked.
I ignored him. “Why the kid games?” I nodded at the guy beside me.
“Blackie a habit too?”
The rangy killer from Jersey stared at me, aching for a chance to cut loose. I was hoping he would. Chet said,
“He’s on something else.”
“He’d better be, Chet. Or didn’t you tell him about me?”
“Blackie knows.”
“Then he isn’t very impressed.”
Saunders let a snarl slip into low gear. “I’m never impressed, hotshot.”
“There’s always a first time, Blackie. It’s generally the last time, too.”
“He’s got a gun in his hand,” the guy beside me said.
Chet gave him a disgusted grimace and looked back at me. “Cool it, Dog. I just want to talk.”
“Your party, kid.”
“We saw Markham and Bridey.”
“How about that?”
“You like to add all the fancy frills, don’t you?”
I grinned at him. “Why not? I don’t have a murder one going against me. As soon as the cops check those hoods’ records they aren’t going to be too interested in running me down. They like intramural rivalry. It keeps the economy active in floral shops and funeral parlors and makes their job that much easier.”
“A nice clean kill might, but this looks like an invitation to war.”
“You nailed it, Chet. That’s what it is. Unless The Turk takes it gracefully and figures it’s a warning to lay off.”
“The Turk never takes anything gracefully.”
“So I’ll put some machinery in motion.”
“In a pig’s ass you will! This kind of crap is what we were afraid of.”
“Don’t bug me, buddy,” I said. “I didn’t instigate it. Anybody who rides my tail is going to hurt and that goes for The Turk too.” I paused and looked at him. “That’s what surprises me. That little fat turd isn’t big enough to go for this kind of heavy work.”
“Ever figure somebody’s behind him pushing hard?”
“I thought of it.”
“Why, Dog?”
I didn’t answer him.
“Nobody retires from this business,” he stated flatly.
“Me,” I said. “I did.”
“You only thought you did. When you retire, you’re dead.”
“So I hear. I’ve decided to be the exception.”
Chet tasted his coffee again, then handed it to Blackie and told him to get a fresh hot one. He told the other guy to join him and when they both left he said, “I made a lot of phone calls, Dog. Right now I’m beginning to get some strange notions.”
“Like what?”
“Like why are three different international syndicates sweating like hell because you left the scene.”
“Because I know too much.”
“Everybody knows too much,” he told me. “They don’t give a damn about
