I knew. Where Legs McCann came from, the first call meant a talk with the offending customer. The caller had all the trappings of violence but nothing happened. The average welsher saw enough the first time around to persuade him he was in no need of a second call.
“And what’s the part of the story I didn’t get right?” I queried.
He was speaking so low now I could hardly catch the words.
“I want out from this business. You see, Pook and me, we’re er—we want to cut this town and start over. Understand, I’m taking a hell of a chance on you, telling you all this.”
I nodded, and leaned nearer so I could hear better.
“You know the way it is in this business, I been around too long, too many people know me, know my record. And as for Pook, there probably ain’t a guy in town who hasn’t seen as much of her as there is. If we was to stay here we wouldn’t have a chance. So what you said is right, I do need a stake so we can blow.”
“And Jake knows all this?”
“No, not about her he doesn’t. But I told him a few days back I was thinking of starting over in another town. Said it was time I quit pushing my muscles around and tried something else. In a few years I’ll just be a muscle-bound bum peddling papers or something. You’ve seen it happen.”
I had, and to better men than McCann.
“How did Jake take it?”
“Not too bad. Oh, he was sore at first. He always is when he thinks anybody wants to quit on him. But I’ve done all right for Jake, and finally he saw it my way. What he did say, I’d have to quit the collecting work right then. I didn’t hold that against him. You couldn’t expect him to send me out collecting all that money like I was, knowing I was getting ready to quit town. In his place I’d have done the same thing.”
“I see. And then when one of his customers was bumped off, you figured he might decide you helped yourself.”
“Yeah. I was having a drink in a bar, and some of the guys heard this news and I got out of there fast before Jake came looking.”
“But why in such a hurry?” I wanted to know. “Jake’s known you for years. Why would he think you crossed him up?”
“Jake don’t do a lot of listening once he makes up his mind. I’d probably lose all my teeth before I convinced him. And I do have money, cash money, just like was taken off this guy. I can’t put it in no bank, I carry it around. And that wouldn’t make it no easier explaining to Jake. Besides, maybe I don’t get the chance. Maybe some young punk knocks me off without a lot of chatter, just to make himself a name with Jake.”
With ordinary people, the kind of reasoning McCann was promoting would make little or no sense. But he wasn’t talking about ordinary people. He was talking about a different world, a tight compact little world where the values took on alien shapes. To me, it made that kind of sense.
“O.K. so what do you do now?”
He looked at me speculatively.
“That would about depend on what you do.”
“I’m going to forget about you. I won’t tell the law, and I won’t tell Jake. I came here to talk to a lady named Shiralee O’Connor. I talked to her, and that’s all I know. But I’m going to ask a favor.”
“Try me.”
“This thing is getting a little rough. Two killings and a third attempt so far, and no telling what comes next. If I get in a spot where I could use a little support, maybe I could call you, huh?”
He held out his hand and we shook solemnly.
“You got yourself a deal, Preston. And good luck to you. Fm like to go nuts if I stay around the house much longer.”
I left then. At the sound of the door opening, Pook appeared from the kitchen and smiled at me tentatively. I nodded what I hoped was some kind of encouragement, and went out.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
IT WAS TIME I SHOWED MY FACE at the office, and from the look on Florence Digby’s face when I rolled in, she thought so too.
“Morning Miss Digby. Anything going on?”
She stopped typing and looked at me severely.
“Nothing so important that you need have troubled yourself coming in Mr. Preston. Heaven knows, I have enough practice at dealing with all the mail and answering callers. It hardly seems fair to bother you with all these little details.”
I mumbled something about being busy and picked up the newly-opened mail. I’m not any fonder of criticism than the next man, particularly the brand handed out by La Digby. Because the plain fact is, and we both know it, she can run the place perfectly well whether I’m there or not.
The mail was my usual bag of wanted notices, insurance company circulars and advertising. There was one guy who was finally prepared to reveal the truth behind the Lindbergh kidnapping. I hadn’t had one of those in months. Handing it to Florence, I said:
“Another nut. We’d better send it along to headquarters like all the rest.”
“The letter is already typed ready for signature, Mr. Preston.”
I might have known it would be.
“Any callers I ought to know about?”
“A woman called, a Mrs. Prince. She wouldn’t discuss the matter with me. Said it was something you would know about personally.”
She let me know, by the inflexion on that “personally”, that she entertained the darkest thoughts about Mrs. Prince and me. Florence always creates fantasies about any woman who crops up in my business.
“Am I supposed to call back?”
“I told her I knew little of your movements, but if you
