sleep?”
“Aw, forget it, Mo,” I said. “Sit down, I wantta talk to you.”
Ackie rubbed his face hard with his hand, pushing his rubbery nose to the most extraordinary angles.
I took out a packet of Camels, gave him one and lit up myself. “What is it, you bum?” he demanded. “I bet you want to pick my brains again.”
I shook my head. “You ain’t got brains,” I said. “You just think you have.”
Ackie shut his eyes. “They fixed Vessi to-night,” he said.
“Yeah,” I said, surprised.
“What made you turn up?” he asked, without opening his eyes.
“How the hell did you know I turned up?” I demanded.
When Ackie smiled he looked horrible. I shifted my eyes. “Not much I don’t hear,” he said. “What made you turn up?”
“Listen, Mo,” I said patiently; “I came here to ask you somethin’, not you to ask me.”
He lifted one hooded lid and squinted at me. “Why the interest, brother? Somethin’ hangin’ to it?”
These news-hawks were all the same. I dragged down some smoke and held it for a second, then let it drift down my nostrils. “I don’t think Vessi did it,” I said, keeping my voice low.
Ackie groaned and shut his eye. “He’s dead now, ain’t he?
“This guy Richmond,” I said, selecting my words, “I guess he had more enemies than Vessi?”
“Yeah, he’d more enemies than most guys. Richmond was a heel. He had it comin’ to him.”
“There was a woman hangin’ to the killin’, wasn’t there? They never turned her up.”
Ackie lifted his shoulders. “There were hundreds of women,” he said indifferently. “That guy had women in his hair all day long.”
“Who was she?” I asked softly.
Ackie raised his head. “Nothin’ doin’,” he said. “Richmond’s dead an’ Vessi’s dead; both those guys were rats. It’s washed up… forget it.”
“Why the hell should everyone want to play this business down?”
Ackie grinned a little. “Do they?” he said.
“Now listen, Mo,” I said. “There’s somethin’ you know an’ somethin’ I know. Suppose we go round to my place an’ talk about it?”
Ackie shook his head. “Just as soon as you get out of here I’m goin’ to sleep,” he said firmly.
I shrugged. “There’s a whole bottle of rye waiting,” I told him.
Ackie got to his feet hastily. “Why not say so before?” he demanded. “Where the hell’s my hat?”
On the way down to my apartment Ackie talked ball games. He didn’t know much about the game, but he liked to air his views. I let him talk. I’d got things to think about.
Once I got him in an armchair with a big rye and ginger in his hand, I got down to things.
“This ain’t to go further, Mo,” I began, putting my feet on the table, “but it looks to me like I’ve gotta put the cards down before you’ll give me a hand. I want help, Mo, and I want it from you.”
Ackie grunted, but he didn’t say anything.
“I stand to pick up ten grand if I start a row about Vessi’s execution,” I said.
Ackie looked up sharply. “Who’s slippin’ you the dough?”
I shook my head. “That’s under my lid,” I said. “Ten grand’s nice money, and from what I’ve picked up already there’s something mighty phoney about Vessi’s case. It begins to look as if it was a frame-up from the very start.”
Ackie looked worried. “You’d better lay off this, Nick,” he said seriously. “You might run into a lotta grief.”
“Come on,” I said shortly, “let’s have it. What’s it all about?”
I could see him making up his mind. In a minute or so I could see I was going to get it all right.
“Larry Richmond was the President of the Mackenzie Fabric Corporation,” he said slowly, fixing his eyes on a spot just above my head. “A great many guys are stockholders in this business. These guys are the big shots of commerce and industry. People who hold public office.”
I leant forward and took the glass out of his hand and refilled it. He took it from me with a little grimace. “Shouldn’t touch the stuff,” he said. “It rusts my guts or somethin’.”
“Keep going,” I said.
“Maybe you think there ain’t anythin’ odd about this, but there is. Richmond privately negotiated all the stock to these people. It was never thrown on to the open market. You know how Richmond stood in society. He’d only have to go around and drop a hint or two, and the lot was over-subscribed.” He paused to take a long pull at his glass. “If anything turns up now to reopen an investigation into Richmond’s death there’s goin’ to be a lot of trouble for those stockholders.”
I didn’t hurry him. This was news to me, and I wasn’t sure where it was getting me. “How come?” I said.
Ackie turned his eyes on me. “Even my boss has got stock in the business,” he said. “He’s told us boys to lay off. We don’t know, but we’ve got a good idea that the Mackenzie Fabric Corporation is a blind, and another racket is goin’ on behind the scenes that pays the big divs. The guys who’ve got their dough in there don’t want to know anythin’—they’re scared sick that some smart monkey like you’ll come along an’ blow the lid off.”
I got to my feet. “What’s the racket?”
Ackie shrugged. “Gawd knows. Could be anythin’. The point is that so many of the big shots have got their dough in the business that it’s mighty dangerous to start anything.”
“Vessi was the mug?”
Ackie nodded. “Sure Vessi was the mug. Some guy didn’t like his rake-off, so he plugs Richmond. This guy was connected with the firm. They couldn’t prosecute him without blowin’ the gaff, so they find a fall-guy. Vessi gets the killin’ pushed on to him. That’s the story, Bud—now forget it, will you?”
I said: “Who’s Lu Spencer?”
Ackie shot me a quick look. “Spencer was Richmond’s right hand. He’s the guy who’s taken over now Richmond’s dead.”
“Lu Spencer was the guy who killed Richmond, huh?”
Ackie’s face went blank. “I wouldn’t know that,” he said, a sudden caution in his voice.
“Okay, Mo,” I said, “you’ve given me the dope. Thanks a lot.”
Ackie got to his feet. “You ain’t goin’ to start any trouble?” he asked. There was a glint in his eye that told me he was hoping I would.
“Suppose we don’t go into that?” I returned. “Whatever happens, I’ll play this carefully. Didn’t they say that Richmond was playing around with Vessi’s girl, and that’s why Vessi knocked him off?”
Ackie nodded. “Yeah,” he said, “that was the angle.”
“Who was she, Mo?”
Ackie frowned. “She was a French moll,” he said slowly. “They kept her covered up at the trial. Andree somethin’ or other… they call her Blondie on her beat.”
I scratched my head. “She a professional dame?” I asked, surprised.
“Vessi liked them to keep themselves, you know.”
“I guess I want to meet this dame,’ I said, I might get an angle….”
“I don’t know where she hangs out, but she goes into the Hotcha Bar most nights.”
I patted him on the back. “Here, Bud, take the rye, I said, turning back to the table. “I guess you’ve earned it.”
Ackie sneered. “Come to, bum,” he said, “I got that already. An’ say, who’s the guy that’s putting up ten grand for this story to be blown up?”
I pushed him to the door. “It’s my big Aunty Belle,” I said, shoving him into the dark corridor.
“Yeah?” he said. “You mean your big Aunt Fanny, don’tcher?”
I shut the door behind him.
When I was sure that he had gone, I went to the cupboard and took out another bottle of rye, stripped off the tissue paper and pulled the cork. I took the bottle into the other room and sat on the bed. I undressed slowly, giving my mind some exercise. When I was ready, I fetched a glass and some ginger seltzer and got into bed.
