The Snake

'Mike... don't change.'

'No chance, baby.'

She opened the door. 'Do you... believe that about... those men coming for me?'

After a few seconds I said, 'No. Basil Levitt said he wanted both you and the kid so it wasn't anything to do with the last operation. She's in it someplace.' I knew I was frowning.

'What are you thinking of?'

'Something he said, damn it.' I wiped my face with my hand and grimaced. 'I've been away too long. I'm not clicking.'

'It will come.'

'Sure, honey,' I said. I touched her face lightly. 'Later?'

'I'll be waiting.'

'Put the kid to bed.'

She made a face at me, grinned and nodded.

It was like there had never been those seven years at all.

There wasn't much trouble getting background material on Simpson Torrence. He had been making headlines since the '30's, was featured in several of the latest magazines, and was the subject of three editorials in opposition newspapers. I took two hours to go over the bits and pieces and what I came up with made him a likely candidate for governor. In fact, several of his high-ranking constituents were looking past the mansion at Albany to the White House in Washington.

But good points I wasn't looking for. If there was anything to the kid's story at all, then something would have to point to another side of the guy's character. People just don't come all good.

I called Hy Gardner and asked him to meet me at the Blue Ribbon with anything he might have on Torrence. All he said was, 'Now what?' But it meant he'd be there.

He showed up with Pete Ladero, who did legwork for a political columnist, and over lunch I picked out all the information on Torrence I could get. Substantially, it was the same as the better magazines had reported. Sim Torrence was a product of New York schools, had graduated magna cum laude and gone into public service immediately afterward. He had a small inheritance that made him independent enough to be able to afford the work and a determination that took, him from an assistant D.A. through the main office into the State Legislature and Senate, and now he was standing at the threshold of the governorship. I said, 'What's wrong with the guy?'

'Nothing,' Pete told me. 'Find out something and I'll peddle it to the opposition for a million bucks.'

'Didn't they try?'

'You kidding?'

Hy shoved his glasses up on his forehead. 'So what's the business then, Mike? What are you laying into Torrence for?'

'Curiosity right now. His name came up in a little deal a while back.'

'This for publication?'

'No. It's strictly for curiosity value.'

'I wish to hell you'd say what you're going to say.'

'Okay,' I agreed. 'What about his marriage?'

Pete and Hy looked at each other, shrugged, and Pete said, 'His wife died years ago. He never remarried.'

'Who was she?'

Pete thought a moment, then: 'Her name was Devon, Sally Devon. If I remember right she was a fairly pretty showgirl when it was fashionable to marry showgirls. But hell, she died not long after the war. There was never any scandal connected with his marriage.'

'What about the kid?' I asked.

Pete shook his head. 'Nothing. I've met her several times. Torrence adopted her when her mother died, sent her to pretty good schools, and she's lived with him since.'

'She ran away.'

'You don't run away when you're over twenty-one,' he reminded me. 'Sim probably has given her a checking account that will keep her provided for wherever she goes.' He paused a moment. 'I don't get the angle there.'

'Because I haven't got one,' I said. 'In my business names and people get dropped into funny places and no matter who they are they get checked out. Hell, it never hurts to prove a clean man clean.'

Pete agreed with a nod, finished his coffee, and told us so-long. Hy said, 'Satisfied?'

'I'm getting there.'

'Do I get a hint at least?'

'Sure. The two dead men the night I found Velda.'

Hy frowned and pulled his glasses off, his cigar working across his mouth. 'The ones who followed you and tried to nail Velda at the last minute?'

'That's the story the papers got, friend.'

He waited, staring at me.

I said, 'They had nothing to do with the espionage bit. They were part of another story.'

'Brother!' Hy poked the cigar out in the ash tray and reached for his pencil and scratch sheets.

'No story yet, Hy. Hold it back. I'll tell you when.'

Reluctantly, he put them back. 'Okay, I'll wait.'

'Velda had Torrence's kid with her. She took her in like a stray cat. Strictly coincidence, but there we are. The kid said she was hiding out from her old man, but whether she's lying or not, we know one thing: two dead men and a possible third say trouble's there.'

'How the hell can you suppress stuff like that!' Hy exploded.

'Angles, buddy.'

'Boy, you sure come on like Gangbusters. I hope you're protecting yourself.'

'Don't worry about me.'

'Don't worry, I won't.'

Hy had to get back to his desk at the Tribune building so I dropped him off and went ahead to Pat's office. The, uniformed sergeant at the desk waved to me, said Pat was upstairs in new quarters and to go ahead up.

He was eating at his desk as usual, too crammed with work to take time out at a lunch counter. But he wasn't too busy to talk to me. I was part of his work. He grinned and said, 'How is Velda?'

'Fine, but not for you.'

'Who knows?' He reached for the coffee container.

'What's up?'

'What did you get on Levitt and the other guy?'

'Nothing new on Levitt. He'd been sporting some fresh money lately without saying where it came from. It was assumed that he picked up his old blackmail operations.'

'And the other one?'

'Kid Hand. You knew him, didn't you?'

'I've seen him around. Small-time muscle.'

'Then you haven't seen him lately. He's gone up in the world. Word has it that he's been handling all the bookie operations on the upper west side.'

'Tillson's old run?'

'Hell, Tillson was knocked off a year ago.'

'So who's Hand working for?'

'I wish I knew. Mr. Big has been given the innocuous-sounding name of Mr. Dickerson, but nobody seems to know any more about him.'

'Somebody's going to be taking over Hand's end.. There'll be a shake-up somewhere.'

'Mike... you just don't know the rackets any more. It's all I.B.M.-style now. Business, purely business, and