I tried to sound unconcerned.
“You can start with the little trick you used to get him out there.”
“That wasn’t any trick,” I snorted. “The guy is paying me. He’s entitled to know what I’m doing for his money. You were there this morning. You heard me tell him I might look him up at Rose’s.”
“Uh.”
He moved his teeth around inside a closed mouth, as though chewing on something unpleasant.
“So what were you going to tell him?”
“I’m working for Jake,” I said doggedly. “Man hires somebody private like me, he wants it kept that way.”
A slow, unpleasant grin came over the heavy lips.
“Brother, you’re just asking for a work out ain’t you? Jake’s not taking no interest now, so tell me.”
My late escort and the other goon took a step nearer to me.
“Things being the way they are, I guess I’ll have to tell you,” I shrugged.
“Good. Now we’re getting someplace,” he breathed.
“But only you. I’m not shouting Jake’s business out in front of these clowns. Get rid of them if you want to hear it.”
Again there was silence while everybody present looked at Charlie Martello. He bit at a fleshy thumb, spat out a piece of finger nail to the carpet.
“O.K. You guys wait in the next room.”
His two henchmen moved obediently away. I jerked a thumb at Hamilton.
“He goes, too.”
Hamilton didn’t flicker an eyelid, merely watched his boss’s brother.
“Why him?” demanded Charlie.
“Because he doesn’t like me, and it’s mutual. Because I’m going to tell you something that could get me into a lot of trouble. And he might take it into his head to use it for just that.”
“And you think I won’t?”
“I have to trust somebody. And you’re Jake’s brother.”
He twitched his head, and Hamilton got up. Before leaving the room he treated me to a malevolent stare.
“Mind, this don’t make no difference,” warned Charlie. “I don’t like what I hear, you could still get pushed around.”
The man was dangerous. Somebody put a hole in his brother, and he wanted something done about it, something physical and quick. I was the nearest candidate for that kind of exercise, and I wasn’t looking for election.
“I’m still waiting.”
I began to tell him. Names were the only parts I left out. For the mood Martello was in, he was quite capable of undertaking a grand tour with his goons, beating up everybody I’d spoken to that day.
“And that’s all?”
“I thought it was a pretty tight schedule for one day’s work.”
“H’m. You never told me no names.”
“I always make my reports that way,” I lied.
“So how do you figure it? Which of these people shot Jake?”
I held up a hand.
“Whoa,” I remonstrated. “Too fast, much too fast. Maybe none of them. Remember, I didn’t see everybody yet. And there could be others, lots of others, I may not even have heard of. It’s too early for calling names.
“That’s on the level, about the dame got herself knocked off?”
“It is.”
Without moving he leaned across and switched on a radio. Shrill music blared into the room. I didn’t like that too well. Where I come from, some people switch up radios while they lean on other people. The music drowns out other noises. Like scream noises. The door opened fast and Hamilton came in, followed by the others. Martello turned irritably.
“Nobody needs ya. Get outa here.”
They went sheepishly away, while Charlie fiddled with the radio dials. Finally he got away from music and on to a man speaking.
“——followed by a newscast in just four minutes time.”
Martello grunted and turned to me.
“We got four minutes. Take the weight off.”
I sat down in the chair Hamilton had vacated. The man on the radio droned away with a message of peace and love for the brotherhood of man. If the message was getting through to brother Charlie, there was nothing on his face to betray the fact.
Four minutes doesn’t sound very long, but the seconds seemed reluctant to slip away unnoticed. Each one seemed to quiver petulantly on my watch before sliding across to make way for the next. I tapped out an Old Favorite and pushed it in my face. The smoke was hot and unfriendly in my throat, and I was about to stub the cigaret when I changed my mind. If I were to do that just after it was lit, Martello might think I was nervous or something. How wrong can a man be?
He hadn’t moved, just stood by the window, waiting for four minutes of his life to ebb away.
“. . . to that great day when all men will walk forward together, shoulder to shoulder, and with heads held high. . . .”
I was beginning to hate the guy on the radio. Then quite suddenly the droning ceased. Some people sang a little jingle about how crispy certain candy bars were.
“And now it’s newstime on your station of the stars. In Vietnam this afternoon. . . .”
Charlie turned up the volume so the guy in the next apartment could learn what was going on in the world.
“. . . at the United Nations. . . .”
At least I needn’t bother with a newspaper next morning. The items wore on, overseas, political, labor news. Then:
“and for our last item, a special interview with the senior police officer investigating the mysterious death today of lovely Serena Fenton. Miss Fenton appears to have fallen from the eighth floor of the Monteray Apartment Building here in Monkton City. A special feature of the enquiry is that the apartment was that formerly occupied by Poetry Brookman, shot to death last night at Indian Point.”
Charlie switched off. I was disappointed. I’d been hoping to hear who the senior police officer was. Probably some front man for the department. They’d never let any of Rourke’s squad loose on the air.
“So it checks,” murmured Charlie. “That far it checks.”
“If those guys ever found out I was there, they’d have my license,” I told him.
“That’s tough. If I ever find out you’re lying to
