her and when I say talk I mean give her the goddamn works. I want her squeezed dry! Don’t let up until you’re sure she’s telling the truth… get it? If you have to knock her off, knock her off. Will you do this for me, Luigi?”
“Sure, Joe.” Luigi sounded expansive. “I’ve got a couple of bums who’d take real pleasure in a job like that, but it’ll cost. How’s about a grand: guaranteed results?”
“Come on, Luigi… you’re my friend. You wouldn’t rob me, would you?”
“No more than you’d rob me, Joe. A grand and a guarantee.”
“Suppose she’s telling the truth?”
“Well, then you’ll know, won’t you?”
Massino cursed.
“Okay. Just get moving!” and he hung up.
At the other end of the line, Luigi knocked ash off his cigar and grinned to himself. He liked nothing better than easy money and this money couldn’t be easier. The time was 21.15. No point in rushing this. Besides he had to supervise his restaurant. He called Salvadore and told him to send Toni back to the Waterfront it Bar.
When Toni entered Luigi’s office, he found two men propping up the wall while Luigi, at his desk, cigar gripped between his teeth, was checking the restaurant’s booking.
The two men startled Toni. He was used to tough types but these two seemed to him to have escaped from a zoo. The bigger of the two had the broken face of a boxer, massively built and with a moronic grin, little beady eyes and no ears. They had probably been bitten off in some past brawl, Toni decided. The other was younger, thin, blond with expressionless eyes and a thin mouth and the deadpan expression of a pot smoker.
“Come on in,” Luigi said. “The big one’s Bernie. The other’s Clive. They’re going to talk to your chick. Mr. Joe gets the idea she’s lying so I’m sending the boys to shake the crap out of her.” Luigi looked at Toni and grinned. “How was she as a lay?”
“Okay, Mr. Luigi.”
“Fine. You’re lucky. She won’t be much after these two have worked her over. Just wise up. When’s the best time for a visit?”
“Her husband leaves at five-thirty in the morning. She’s on her own then,” Toni said uneasily.
Luigi looked at the two propping up the wall.
“Suppose you get over there around six? Don’t worry about interrupting her coffee. Mr. Joe’s anxious for news, and don’t worry about her. It’s a big lake.”
The two nodded and went away leaving Toni standing, uneasy and staring at Luigi. Even he, tough as he was, hated the thought of a chick like Freda in the hands of those two apes.
“Okay, Toni,” Luigi said, “go and enjoy yourself. Everything’s on the house. If you want a girl tell the barman. He’ll fix you. Have a ball.”
Toni went to the bar and got drunk.
The sound of the truck starting up woke Johnny. He looked out of the window. There was mist on the lake and he could see the red rim of the sun coming up behind the pines. He looked at his watch. The time was 05.30. He reached for a cigarette and listened to the truck backing out of the parking bay, then go roaring up the dirt road.
The evening had passed with the help of the television. Freda’s pigeon pie had been a success. Scott had congratulated him on his shooting. Johnny had slept badly, continually waking, dozing, then waking again. Nov, a cigarette between his lips, he took stock of his position.
If Massino was convinced by Freda’s story, the heat must cool. But would he be convinced? He (Johnny) would have to stay under cover for at least another four days, then he would have to get to a telephone and call Sammy. He wouldn’t dare show himself in Little Creek. Where else was a telephone? He would have to ask Freda that. If Sammy could assure him the heat was off, then he and Freda would go back to East City, take a chance, collect the money and get out of town. If Massino was sure he was in Havana, he could see no danger in again driving south. Problems! First getting to a telephone and then getting a car. There was no question now of Freda hiring a car from Little Creek. Maybe they would have to walk to New Symara… some walk in this heat!
He threw off the sheet and got out of bed. A cup of coffee would go well with his cigarette.
“Johnny?”
Freda came out of her bedroom. Her blonde hair was mussed, but to Johnny, with the softness of sleep still on her, she looked beautiful.
“Just getting coffee, baby. Want some?”
“Hmmm.”
She went into the bathroom.
As Johnny poured coffee into a saucepan, he thought about her. A whore! So what? Lots of women were whores, trading their bodies not for money but for presents, jewels, furs… whatever they yearned for. She was his woman, he told himself. Who cares about anyone’s past if there is love and Johnny knew he was in love with her. He wasn’t much anyway, but he would be! $186,000 made any man something!
He could feel it was going to be hot and he thought with dismay that from now on there would be no swimming, no fishing. He would have to stay out of sight.
He poured the hot coffee into a cup and as he was about to pour more coffee into a second cup, he heard a car drive up.
Moving swiftly, he put the second cup away, then darted into his bedroom, snatched up his gun, pulled the sheet up over the bed, then darted into Scott’s bedroom, the window of which gave a view onto the jetty.
He saw a dusty Lincoln parked at the foot of the jetty and from it spilled two men: one big, like an ape, the other small, white-faced with staring eyes. They both wore black suits, white shirts and white ties. They stood looking around, then they started across the jetty, taking their time as Johnny moved into the passage.
Freda, still in her shortie nightdress, was standing in the bathroom door.
“Trouble,” Johnny said softly. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it.”
“No! Get out of sight!” Freda whispered fiercely. “I’ll take care of it! Get in the closet and wait!”
She caught hold of his arm and shoved him towards the big closet. For a moment he hesitated, then when a knock sounded on the door, he slid into the closet and shut the door.
Freda ran into her bedroom, snatched up a wrap and struggled into it as the knock came again.
She braced herself, then went to the door and opened it. When she saw Bernie and Clive, she felt a rush of cold blood up her spine. But she kept control of herself.
“What do you want?”
Bernie, smelling of sweat, his moronic grin terrifying, moved forward, forcing her back.
“You, dolly-bird. We want to talk to you about Johnny.”
But it was the other one Freda feared: the little, white-faced horror with his evil, sadistic eyes who followed behind the ape man.
“He’s gone,” she said.
They were now in the living-room and she had retreated to the far wall.
“Tell us about him, dolly-bird. We’re looking for him,” Bernie said.
“He left yesterday.”
“That’s what we heard.” Bernie shuffled forward and snatched off her wrap leaving her in her shortie nightdress. “Yeah, we heard that,” then he slapped her across her face so violently she bounced back against the wall and then sprawled on the floor. He reached down and tore off her nightdress, “but we don’t believe it, dolly- bird. Feed us another story.”
She lay naked at his feet, staring up at him.
“He went to Miami yesterday morning early,” she said, her voice steady. “Get out of here, you apes!”
Bernie sniggered.
“Go ahead, Clive, work on her,” he said. “When you’re tired, I’ll take over.”
In the closet, Johnny listened. He quietly opened the closet door, gun in hand and moved into the passage. He was wearing only pyjama trousers, his feet were bare and he made no sound as he entered the living- room.
Clive had caught hold of Freda and had hauled her to her feet. He was setting himself to slap her as Johnny killed him.
The bang of the gun made Freda scream. She hid her face in her hands and dropped to her knees.
