Besides being a close friend, Chester K. Lonsworth was a wicked studpoker player and the head of the largest black law firm in the city. Keeping Sam under wraps permanently was an impossibility. Having him turn himself in as Vern suggested was the best bet. But Bull wasn’t going to have Sam walk into any police station without Chet at his side.
He was right by the phone when it sounded and caught it on the first ring.
“Bull?” It was Sam again.
“Yeah, Sam, where’d you hole up?”
“The Lakeside.”
“Fancy.”
“Why not? If they throw me in jail it’s gonna be a long time fore I gets to enjoy any more comforts in life.”
“Ice that. If it comes to any charges I’m sure Chet can arrange bail. The way it’s coming across to me is that the cops have got it figured Hymes expected to have some of that bank money waiting for him for keeping his mouth shut all these years. Now, either the missing Smith Brother didn’t have any of the dough left or he didn’t want to part with it and offed Hymes to end the partnership and keep the cops from tipping to him. Since you’d been quizzed before and Hymes met his maker in your place that tags you as it. It’s nice and easy for them that way. Just the way they like it — saves them a lot of shoe leather.”
“Yeah,” Sam said slowly. “It lines up that way to me too.”
“Well, I don’t figure on making it that easy for them. I thought I’d nose around a bit, maybe throw some things their way that’ll make ’em get out and work. But I need some names from the old days. Some dudes who might’ve been in on this thing with Hymes.”
“I’ve been bustin’ ma head on some names too, Bull. Not too many cats still around from back then. I could only come up with a couple. Lemar Summers and Dave Tucker. Know ’em?”
“I remember Summers. He was into a bunch of things before he got that clothing store downtown. Hustling, numbers — even ran a book once, right?”
“Yeah, that’s Lemar. Cops gave him as much trouble as they did me back then when Ollie was caught. We’re both ’bout the same size.”
“What about this Tucker dude?”
“Dave’s a different story. He wasn’t in on those bank jobs with Ollie. The cat’s almost as big as you. And there’s been bad blood ’tween him and Ollie for years. Somethin’ to do with some bread Ollie was ’pose to ’ve cheated him out of a ways back. But I don’t know if Dave’s still around. It’s been a year since I saw him. Runnin’ a newsstand on the west side, around Central someplace.”
“Well, it’s a start anyway, Sam. Look, have you got any idea where Hymes was staying?”
“With Bess Warren, I guess. Now there was some lady. Used to wear the highest spike heels ya ever saw. Gave her a couple of inches on me but it didn’t stop me from makin’ a play on her. She went for the money cats. Whoever had the dough had her time.
“Things changed when she and Ollie connected. They were a hot number back then. But she got banged up somethin’ awful in a car accident a little after Ollie was sent to prison. Permanently paralyzed, I think. She was livin’ on the west side somewheres last I heard, but I ain’t sure where.”
“She sounds like a lady I need to talk to,” Bull said. “She might be able to provide me with some names.”
After instructing Sam to stay put, he got lucky and found Bess Warren’s number and address in the phone book. There was no listing for Dave Tucker, but Lady Luck smiled on him again and he caught Chet Lonsworth in his office. Chet was going to be tied up with court appearances until three-thirty, so they made arrangements to meet at the Lakeside with Sam at four.
It was a little after twelve by the time he got in his Caddy and headed downtown for Lemar Summers’ clothing store. He had a lot of running around to do, but if he got the right pieces for the puzzle Sam wouldn’t have any worry from the police. Traffic was light and he made it downtown without any hassle. There was a self-park across from the clothing store. He found an empty slot on the second level, parked, and took the stairs to the street rather than wait for the elevator.
Summers wasn’t after the quiet elite. The walls in his place were metallic slabs of red and gold. The costumed manikins displayed the same boldness either in color or style, and the Commodores jammed loudly over the speakers, keeping the customers in a partying mood, a spending mood. The threads were priced high enough to throw any mother’s son into heavy debt.
“May I help you?”
She was a foxy little number, decked out in orange slacks with a halter top, milk-chocolate complexion, and pale-tan eyes. Every time she smiled some dude would probably decide he needed another pair of slacks or a shirt, or that the yellow striped tie was just the one he’d been looking for.
“I’d like to see Mr. Summers,” Bull said, resisting the urge to turn the conversation to a more personal level.
“Is he expecting you?”
“No, but I’m sure he’ll see me. Tell him it’s Bull Benson, a friend of Sam Devlin.”
She started to turn, then swung back. “Benson? You don’t happen to own that hotel and lounge out south, do you?”
He nodded. “Yeah, that’s me.”
“Nice place. Me and some of my friends have been out there a couple of times.”
“If you ever make it by there solo, look me up.”
“I’ll surely do that.” she said, winking.
Summers’ office was muffled from the blast of the music and the dusk-blue walls were drab compared to those out front.
“Grab a chair, Bull. Good to see ya again.”
The years hadn’t done much to Summers — thinned and greyed his hair a bit, but that was all. The cops had quizzed Summers and Sam about the Smith Brothers’ bank deal. Seeing him again it was easy to tell why. Summers had a few more pounds on him than Sam, but otherwise they were the same size.
“I suppose you’ve heard about Ollie Hymes?” he said, taking a chair before Summers’ desk that gave a little moan under his weight.
“Yeah,” Summers said, rubbing his narrow chin. “Tough thing to happen to of Ollie. Gets out of jail and bang! Word is that Sam did the number on him. How straight is that?”
“What do you think?”
“It doesn’t strike me as being right. Not Sam anyways — not his kind of action.”
“Well, we agree on that. But the cops aren’t convinced.”
Summers shrugged, his tailored shoulders raising and lowering in a smooth move. “I kind of expected the cops to come by here today, but I guess if they got their sights set on Sam I won’t be seeing them.”
“Yeah. That’s why I’m here.”
Summers’ small mouth worked itself into a slight frown. “What’re you trying to say, Bull?”
“Nothing. Just looking at this thing from a few different angles. Somebody killed Hymes. If we both agree it wasn’t Sam, then who did?”
“Well, it wasn’t me, Bull, so look somewhere else.”
“What time did you get here this morning?”
Summers shook his head, the frown still there. “You’re going to push this thing, huh? O.K.. I got here at eight-thirty, and the help started floating in at nine-thirty, quarter to ten. Would you like to know what I had for breakfast?”
“Maybe not what — but where?”
“The joint across the street. I’m there every morning I work.” His frown deepened. “Why don’t you just forget about this? I didn’t kill nobody. I ain’t even placed a bet on the ponies in I don’t know how long. Did you take a good look around when you came in? I’ve worked my tail off here for fourteen years getting this place where it is today. I’ve turned my back on the old days and the old ways, Bull. You won’t find anybody any cleaner in this town.”