real close to being dead.
Touching the back of his skull with the muzzle of the .38 was only a gesture, but the effect was beautiful. Big Mannie, the Boss, the Head Man, went into a violent fit of trembling, making whimpering sounds that had a pleading tone to them.
I used the wire on all of them, twisted hard into the flesh so that you could barely see it. When Joe moaned and opened his eyes I kicked him insensible and let Mannie see it. Then I squatted down beside the fat man, the clippers in my hand opening and shutting suggestively, and in that movement and metallic sound he read all the terrible things that could possibly happen to him and his eyes rolled in his head.
I said, "You're going to talk, Mannie. I heard some things so I know what's going on, and if you lie I'll know it and it will be the last lie you'll tell me. You understand?"
He couldn't talk. Spit ran out of his mouth as he bobbed his head, never taking his eyes from the clippers.
"Who is the girl?"
Mannie wet his lips, trying desperately to say something. He finally made it. "Massley's kid."
"Rhino's?"
His jowls shook again with the nod. "Yeah, Rhino."
I paused, savoring the next moment. "He's alive then?"
The expression on his face made me wish I hadn't asked it. Even in his fear he was completely puzzled by it. He shook his head, swallowed hard, and said, "Rhino . . . he's dead."
"Then why do you want the girl?"
He tried not to say it, but when I moved those clippers toward his mouth he couldn't keep it in at all. "Rhino left papers . . . his wife had them."
"What kind of papers?"
"Big papers. They could send up lots of guys. They were . . . Rhino's cover . . . his protection. He even could break up . . . the organization with them."
"Why didn't you get them before this?"
"His woman. She knew where he kept them but she disappeared. Nobody knows until she dies where she is."
"What about the girl?"
"So she gets the papers, don't she? She comes east, what for if not to make contacts and use them. She's big trouble to everybody. She will die."
"And you were elected to kill her?"
He blubbered softly until I touched him with the clippers again. "I get orders . . . you know," he whimpered.
"From who?"
His eyes tried to bug out and his tongue was even too dry to dampen his mouth. "How . . . can I know. It's by phone. I get the word . . . then I do it."
"Names, Mannie."
You could smell the fear coming from his pores. He tried to talk and couldn't. "Okay," I said with a fat grin, "so maybe you don't know, but let me put in a word, too. If she dies, so will you, fatty."
"No! No . . . anybody will kill this girl. She is dangerous to many big people."
"But if she dies, you'll be right behind her, understand?"
He knew I wasn't going to kill him then. He nodded quickly, eager to please, then I gave him a boot that wiped all the eagerness off. I did it enough, so he knew what it was like to play it like back in the old days, and walked out. Only they wouldn't have it so easy. I still had the clippers in my back pocket.
I took another cab and waited until I got back to my place again before I let it all come through to me, bit by bit. I cleaned up right, shaved, and spoke to myself in the mirror. All the bits and pieces were starting to pull together and show signs of belonging to an orderly whole.
It made a nice, satisfying picture with only one ugly blot in the middle. Perhaps Rhino wasn't alive, but Terry still came from his loins. It was going to be hard to tell her that. But at the moment the prime thing was to keep her hidden. She was the target in the game from every angle. Orders were for the mob to take her. On top of that somebody else was dealing himself into the game. Somebody who said he was her father.
At the corner I called Dan Litvak and asked him to meet me in Rosario's in an hour. He got there right after I did, raised his eyebrows a little when he saw my face, but made no comment at all.
I said, "I need another favor, Dan. Check through the files and run down a Jean Stuart Massley."
"Still on that kick?"
"It's looking up."
"Anything you can tell me?"
I brought him up to date with all the details. His face never changed, but in back of his eyes strange things were happening. He let me finish, then said, "You think both Massleys were the same?"
"Could be."
"And if Rhino Massley is, as he seems to be . . . dead?"
I shrugged, "Then I want his papers. This whole thing started over those documents. I lost seven years because of them and now I want some kicks."
"Have you tried being sensible about the bit?"
"Like how?"
"Like how, if you handle this right, you can throw it back in a lot of faces the right way and maybe get back on top again. Make a story of it and every sheet in the country will want you on the staff."
"Nuts."
"Think it over anyway." He swilled the coffee down and climbed out of the booth. "Anything else you want?"
"Yes. Find out who the doctor was who handled Rhino's case. If you can get his medical history, so much the better."
"That shouldn't be hard."
I called from the Enfield Hotel lobby and she sounded a little breathless. It was as if she had been expecting me and all the anticipation showed in a few husky words. It was a heady feeling, thinking there was someone waiting. It had been a long time since there had been anything like that. And now it was only a thought and a foolish one at that. Who the hell was I to invite such thoughts at all? Phil Rocca, ex-con, the big nothing. Sweaty underwear, dirty shirt and somebody else's coat. Great.
Upstairs was a lovely woman. She was waiting, all right, because I might have some news about her old man. When I told her what I had, she wouldn't be waiting any more.
But it didn't happen like that. She was a smiling Valkyrie standing in the doorway, hair like a black waterfall on her shoulders and her hands out to take mine. Her eyes were laughing and her mouth told me she missed me. She laid her cheek against mine and squeezed my arm, then suddenly realized that there was a difference and her eyes went wide and she traced the shoe marks on my face with the tips of her fingers.
She asked, "Again?" and when I nodded she dropped her face into her hand and remained that way until I tilted her chin up.
"They were the same persons?"
"No, but the same outfit."
"What . . . did they want?"
I told her a half-truth. "To teach me a lesson. They didn't like me roughing up the hoods who started this party rolling."
She studied me, then said, "It's my father, isn't it?"
"I'm not sure yet."
"When will you be sure?"
"Soon."
There wasn't long to wait. The phone rang sharply twice and when I picked it up Dan said, "Phil?"
"Here, Dan."
