a gentleman.?
?Damn,? I said, ?damn it all to hell anyway!?
Juno?s fingers found mine on the bar rail and her smile was replaced by intense concern. ?Mike, please! It can?t be that bad. Aren?t you glad it was that way??
I cursed under my breath, something nice and nasty I had to get out. ?I guess so. It?s just that it leaves me climbing a tree again. Thanks anyway, Juno.?
She leaned toward me and my head filled with the fragrance of a perfume that made me dizzy. She had gray eyes. Deep gray eyes. Deep and compassionate. Eyes that could talk by themselves. ?Will you come up tomorrow anyway??
I couldn?t have said no. I didn?t want to. I nodded and my lip worked into a snarl I couldn?t control. Even my hands tightened into fists until the broken skin over my knuckles began to sting. ?I?ll be there,? I said. I got that funny feeling again. I couldn?t figure it, damn it, I didn?t know what it was.
A finger tapped my shoulder and Connie said, ?I?m losted, Mike. Hello, Juno.?
Olympus smiled another dawn.
Connie said, ?Can we go home now??
I slid off the stool and looked at the goddess. This time we didn?t shake hands. Just meeting her eyes was enough. ?Good night, Juno.?
?Good night, Mike.?
Anton Lipsek came back and nodded to the both of us. I took Connie?s arm and steered her toward the door. Joseph, Andrew, Martin, Homer and Raymond all yelled for us to join the party then shut up when they saw the look on my face. One of them muttered, ?Sour sort of fellow, isn?t he??
The joker with the bashed-in face wasn?t in his chair where I had left him. Two other guys were holding the fort and I knew what they were doing there. They were waiting for me. The tall skinny one was a goon I knew and who knew me and licked his lips. The other one was brand, spanking new. About twenty-two maybe.
They looked at Connie, wondering how to get her out of there so she wouldn?t be a witness to what came next. The goon I knew licked his lips again and rubbed his hands together. ?We been waiting for you, Hammer.?
The kid put on more of an act. He screwed up his pimply face to make a sneer, pushing himself away from the wall trying to make shoulders under his dinner jacket. ?So you?re Mike Hammer, are ya? Ya don?t look so tough to me, guy.?
I let my hand fool with the buttons on my coat. The billy in the empty holster pushed against the fabric under my arm and looked real as hell. ?There?s always one way you can find out, sonny,? I said.
When the kid licked his lips a little spit ran down his chin. Connie walked ahead of me and opened the door. I walked past the two of them and they never moved. In a little while they?d be out of a job.
Not an empty table showed in this first back room. The show was over and the tiny dance floor was packed to the limit. The late tourist crowd was having itself a fling and making no bones about it. I scanned the sea of heads looking for Clyde. It was a hell of a change from Dinky Williams. But he wasn?t around. We picked up our stuff from the hag at the checkroom and I tossed a dime in the spittoon. She swore and I swore back at her.
The words we used weren?t unusual for the front section of the Bowery Inn, and no heads turned except two at the bar. One was Clyde. I waved my thumb toward the back. ?Lousy help you hire, Dink.? His face was livid again.
I didn?t even look at the babe. It was Velda.
Chapter Five
I was sitting in the big leather chair in the office when Velda put her key in the lock. She had on a tailored suit that made her look like a million dollars. Her long black page-boy hair threw back the light of the morning sunshine that streamed through the window and it struck me that of all the beauty in the world I had the best of it right under my nose.
She saw me then and said, ?I thought you?d be here.? There was frost in her voice. She tossed her handbag on the desk and sat in my old chair. Hell, it was her joint now anyway.
?You move pretty fast, Velda.?
?So do you.?
?Referring to my company of last night, I take it.?
?Exactly. Your legwork. They were very nice, just your type.?
I grinned at her. ?I wish I could say something decent about your escort.?
The frost melted and her voice turned soft. ?I?m the jealous type, Mike.?
I didn?t have to lean far to reach her. The chair was on casters that moved easily. I wound my fingers in her hair, started to say something and stopped. Instead, I kissed the tip of her nose. Her fingers tightened around my wrist. She had her eyes half closed and didn?t see me push her handbag out of reach. It tipped with the weight of the gun in it and landed on the floor.
This time I kissed her mouth. It was a soft, warm mouth. It was a light kiss, but I?ll never forget it. It left me wanting to wrap my arms around her and squeeze until she couldn?t move. No, I didn?t do that. I slid back into my chair and Velda said, ?It was never like that before, Mike. Don?t treat me like the others.?
My hand was shaking when I tried to light another cigarette. ?I didn?t expect to find you down the Bowery last night, kid.?
?You told me to get to work, Mike.?
?Finish it. Let?s hear it all.?
Velda leaned back in the chair, her eyes on mine. ?You said to concentrate on Wheeler. I did. The papers carried most of the details and there was nothing to be learned here. I hopped the first plane to Columbus, visited with his family and business associates and got the next plane back again.?
She picked her handbag off the floor and extracted a small black loose-leaf pad, flipping the cover back to the first page. ?Here is the essence of what I learned. Everyone agreed that Chester Wheeler was an energetic, conscientious husband, father and businessman. There has never been any family trouble. Whenever he was away he wrote or called home frequently. This time they had two picture post cards from him, a letter and one phone call. He phoned as soon as he arrived in New York to tell them he?d had a successful trip. He sent one card to his son, a plain penny post card. The next card was postmarked from the Bowery and he mentioned going to a place called the Bowery Inn. Then he wrote a letter to his wife that was quite commonplace. A postscript to his twenty-two- year-old daughter mentioned the fact that he had met an old high school friend of hers working in the city. That was the last they heard until they were notified of his death.
?When I dug up his business friends I got nowhere. His business was fine, he was making a lot of money, and he had no worries at all.?
I clamped my teeth together. ?Like hell you got nowhere,? I said softly. My mind drifted back over that little conversation with Pat. A little talk about how a guy named Emil Perry said Wheeler had been depressed because business was rotten. ?You?re
sure about his business??
?Yes. I checked his credit rating.?
?Nice going. Continue.?
?Well . . . the only lead I saw was this place called the Bowery Inn. I did some fast quizzing when I got home and found out what it was all about. The man who runs the place you seemed to know. I put on an act and he fell for it. Hard. He didn?t seem to like you much, Mike.?
?I can?t blame him. I shot him once.?
?After you left he couldn?t talk for five minutes. He excused himself and went into the back room. When he returned he seemed satisfied about something. There was blood on his hands.?
That would be Dinky, all right. He liked to use his hands when he had a couple of rods backing him up. ?That all??
?Practically. He wants to see me again.?
I felt the cords in my neck pull tight. ?The bastard! I?ll beat the pants off him for that!?
Velda shook her head and laughed. ?Don?t you get to be the jealous type too, Mike. You don?t wear it so well. Is it important that I see him again??
