masks and ornamental dolls.
She was wearing her windbreaker and slacks. Her eyes were heavy-looking and her face pallid. She didn’t look as if she had had much sleep since last I saw her. .
‘What’s cooking?’ she asked as she fetched out a bottle of Scotch, glasses and ice. I’ve been walking the floor since last night.’
Last night! It didn’t seem possible that so much had happened in twenty-four hours.
I dropped into an easy chair.
‘Plenty, but I’m not sure that it does us any good. I’ve a little job on you might like to help me with, but before I go into that, I’ll get you up to date on what’s happened so far.’
She stood before the empty fireplace, her hands in her trouser pockets, a cigarette between her lips, her face set and cold while talked.
I didn’t leave out any of the details, and the story took the best part of a half an hour.
‘I have a lot of facts,’ I concluded, ‘but no proof; and it’s proof We must have. I must build up a case that’ll stand up in court. What I’ve told you makes a good yarn, but Francon couldn’t use it as it stands. The next move is to get the proof, and the only way we can get it is to fight Barratt with his own wea-pons. The first and easiest move is to try to establish Nick’s alibi. He told Francon he was playing cards with Joe Betillo from eight-thirty to ten-thirty. Betillo said he left Delmonico’s at nine-thirty. Betillo is a notorious character in Coral Gables. He’d sell his own mother for a dollar. I’m going out there to-night and see if I can find anyone who saw Perelli leave. Maybe someone did, but is scared to get in bad with Betillo. If I can’t find anyone, then I’m going to get hold of Betillo, bring him here and persuade him to change his mind about the time Nick left. That all right with you?’
She gave a hard little smile.
‘That’s fine,’ she said. ‘If you can’t make him talk, perhaps I can.’
‘We’ll both try. Has Nick any friends? Anyone big and tough who’d help me handle Betillo?
He’ll need a lot of handling.’
Myra shook her head.
‘Nick doesn’t make friends easily. We haven’t long been here. I’ll help you.’
‘No. This isn’t the kind of outing you take a girl on. Never mind. I’ll get hold of Mike
Finnegan. He’s always ready for trouble.’
‘I’m doing it,’ Myra said. I’m a little tired of sitting here, doing nothing. I can handle a gun. I have more incentive than your friend; a lot more incentive. Tell me what to do, and I’ll do it.’
I studied her, decided to take a chance.
‘Look, don’t let’s have any misunderstanding. We don’t want to kill this guy: we just want to make him talk.’
She gave me a look that sent a prickle up my spine.
‘Get him here, and I’ll make him talk.’
I stood up.
‘Well, come on. Let’s go.’
She pulled open a drawer and took out a .25, checked the clip and pushed the gun into her hip pocket. She finished her whisky, glanced at herself in the mirror.
‘Jeepers! I look a fright. I’m glad Nick isn’t here to see me.’
‘He’d be glad to see you however you look,’ I reminded her and went to the door.
She turned out the light, and together we walked down the garden path to the Buick.
‘Suppose we collect Barratt and make him talk,’ she said as she settled herself in the car beside me. Wouldn’t that save a little time?’
‘I’m not too sold on the idea of forcing a guy to talk,’ I said driving towards the water-front. ‘It might work with Betillo but not with Barratt. He’s too important. He could give us the works, then swear we forced him to confess under torture when he got in the box. That kind of evidence doesn’t stand up.’
‘If you don’t save Nick, I’m going to get Barratt,’ she said in a hard, tight voice. ‘That’s something I’ve promised myself.’
I parked the car in the shadows, a few yards from Delmonico’s Bar.
‘Let’s concentrate on saving Nick,’ I said. ‘There’ll be plenty of time to take care of Barratt if we can’t do it the legal way. Have you ever been in this joint?’
‘Of course I have. Nick used to come here practically every night.’
‘I want to look at the room in which Nick and Betillo played cards. Can you swing that?’
‘I can if no one’s using it’
‘Let’s go in and find out.’
We walked up the five wooden steps that led into the bar. Inside was brightly lit and full of people. A juke- box was churning out the Ha
It was the kind of scene you can see in any Warner Bros movie. All you needed was a tracking shot up to Humphrey Bogart and you’d feel at home.
Myra seemed to know her way around. She walked across sawdust-covered floor up to the bar and crooked a finger at one of the barmen.
I stood behind her, waiting for trouble.
Four or five men, as wide as they were tall, who were up at the bar, stopped talking and looked at her.
They looked over their shoulders at me, sneered, turned their attention to Myra again.
‘Hello, girlie,’ one of them said softly.
This, of course, I thought, is where trouble starts. I was a fool to have brought her here. Instead of getting evidence, I was going to get into a fight with a bunch of toughs as big as Carnera.
Myra turned slowly, looked the four men over, said four words with unbelievable viciousness that froze them in their tracks, turned back to the bar again.
Silently, as if they had peeped into a room in which something was going on that shocked even their unshockable minds, they drifted away from the bar and sat at one of the tables.
Myra whispered to the barman, who looked at her narrowly, nodded his head and jerked his thumb to the stairs.
‘Come on,’ she said to me. ‘We can go up.’
We pushed our way through the crowd to the stairs.
‘You have quite a way with you when you’re aroused,’ I said as we mounted the stairs.
I can take care of myself. The bigger they are the softer the centre. I haven’t kicked around with men all my life for nothing.’ There was a cold, brooding look on her face. The barman says Betillo’s got a poker game up here in half an hour.’
‘Will he tip him?’
She shook her head.
‘He’s a friend of mine. What do we do? Wait until he shows and grab him?’
‘Let’s look the territory over first.’
We reached the head of the stairs. Before us stretched a long passage, lined on either side by doors.
‘Room 15,’ Myra said, walked along the passage, paused outside a door, turned the handle and pushed the door open. She groped for the light switch, turned it on and we went in together.
The room was big. Under green-shaded lights was a round table, equipped with decks of playing cards and two wooden racks containing poker chips. There were about ten chairs grouped round the table; a couple of brass spittoons completed the furnishing.
‘Okay,’ I said. ‘Now where’s the back exit which Nick used?’
She turned out the light and we went to the far end of the passage. A door opened on to a veranda, overlooking an alley. A steep flight of wooden steps linked the veranda with the alley.
‘Right. We’ll wait for him inside. If he shows fight, I’ll rap him on the dome, but if we can, we’ll try to persuade him to walk. He’s no light weight.’
We moved back into the passage again.
