Her rage subsided as she turned the problem over. The more she thought about it, the more she realized the danger she herself was in. Let Dillon find someone who really pleased him, and there was nothing to stop him from ditching her. He had Hurst and a tough mob at his back, and although she had given him ideas, and had helped him, she knew he was ruthless enough to toss her aside if she tried to make trouble for him.
She walked into the bedroom and began to undress. Dillon came out of the bathroom, humming to himself. She caught a glimpse of his face in the mirror. His eyes were dull; dark rings under them gave him a tired, heavy look. She caught her breath sharply, sitting there, her heart beating hard.
Dillon got into bed and snapped off the lamp at his side. “Come on,” he said, “I wantta go to sleep.”
She stood up, passing the comb through her hair. “You are tired tonight,” she said, keeping her voice steady with an effort.
“Yeah,” Dillon grunted, “I'm damn tired. Get into bed for Gawd's sake.”
She put the comb down on the dressing-table and came over to him. She sat on the bed, looking at him with glittering eyes. “Shall I come in with you?” she almost snarled at him.
Dillon's heavy face hardened. He sat up on his elbow. “Didn't I tell you I'm beat?” he snapped. “Get into bed. I wantta sleep.”
“Too tired, even for love?” The gritty, suppressed rage startled him into wakefulness.
“What the hell's this?” he said. “Can't I get tired sometimes?”
“Not the way you've been gettin' tired,” she shrilled. “I'm on to you—”
Dillon pulled back the bedclothes and swung his feet to the floor. He reached out and gripped her throat in his hand. She struck at him wildly, but his arm was too long. He held her away from him.
“That's the way it is, huh?” he said softly. “You're gettin' too big for your pants. Jest because you've been laid a few times you think you can talk big. Okay, sister, here it is.”
He smacked her across her face hard with his open hand, at the same time releasing his grip on her throat. She fell off the bed and rolled on the floor. He kicked her hard in her ribs with his bare foot. She slid away with the force of the kick across to her own bed.
“Now get to sleep an' shut your trap. You ain't got anythin' more than any other woman... get it?”
He pulled up the bedclothes and snapped out the light. She remained sobbing with rage on the cold floor.
Dillon used Jakie's Poolroom on Nineteenth for his headquarters. The boys spent a lot of their time pushing the balls around, waiting for something to turn up. Dillon had a little office at the far end of the poolroom. It was quite a place. He had a roll-top desk and several modern chairs of chromium and leather. The door had a ground-glass panel with 'AUTOMATICS, LTD.' painted on it, and in smaller letters at the bottom right-hand corner, 'Manager'. Dillon liked that, it made him feel good.
When Roxy blew in during the early afternoon the poolroom was full. Dillon's boys were drinking, talking and playing snooker. They glanced up when Roxy came in, looked at him suspiciously and glanced at one another.
Roxy stood in the doorway, his hat tipped over his eyes. “Mr. Dillon around?” he asked.
One of them jerked his thumb to the door. “In there,” he said briefly.
Roxy started across the floor. A big bird suddenly got in his way. “Hey!” he said. “Where the hell do you think you're goin'?”
Roxy said patiently, “I wantta see Dillon.”
The big bird said, “Wait.” He ran his hands over Roxy, feeling for a gun, then he knocked on the door and put his head round. He withdrew after a moment and nodded at Roxy. “Go ahead,” he said. “You're okay.”
Dillon was thumbing through a newspaper, half hidden by the top of the desk. He glanced up and looked at Roxy thoughtfully.
“Jeeze! Quite the big shot,” Roxy said.
Dillon said coldly, “Come on in, an' shut the door.”
Roxy closed the door and sat down. He ran his fingers over the stove-pipe furniture. “Hot, ain't it?” he said admiringly. “This is some joint.”
Dillon opened a drawer and took out a box of cigars. He pushed them over to Roxy. “You wantta join up?” he said.
Roxy selected a cigar, bit the end off and spat it from his mouth. “Yeah,” he said. “I'd like to get into somethin' steady. My racket is gettin' shot to hell.”
Dillon looked at him thoughtfully. “What I'm goin' to tell you ain't to go further,” he said, keeping his voice low.
Roxy looked a little startled, but he nodded. “Sure, I don't talk,” he said. “You should know that!”
Dillon hitched his chair closer. “I'm figgerin' you're the guy I've been lookin' for,” he said. “Maybe I'm wrong, but I don't think so. Listen. At the moment I'm runnin' this automatic racket an' I'm picking up around fifteen grand a week. Nice, but nothin' to rave about. Hurst's got a grand organization. He's got protection. He's got a real tough crowd workin' for him. This Hurst guy gets so far, but he don't go the limit. With his organization, he could go the limit.”
Roxy drew on his cigar, letting the heavy smoke slide from his mouth. “What's the limit?” he asked.
Dillon said very quietly, “Little Ernie's the limit.”
Roxy's eyes narrowed. “I don't get that,” he said.
“I want to take over Ernie's part of the town. Hurst won't stand for it, but I guess if I did it he'd have to stick by me an' like it.”
“What's that to me?” Roxy asked cautiously.
Dillon looked at him hard. “The whole town'd be too big for me to handle. I gotta have a guy I could trust. You'd get in on this on the ground floor.”
Roxy said, “Maybe Hurst wouldn't stand for it.”
Dillon got up and walked to the door. He opened it and glanced outside, then he came back and put his head close to Roxy's. “Maybe what Hurst says won't count any more.”
Roxy looked up into his black eyes. He shifted uneasily at the malevolence there. He hastily turned his eyes, and studied the grey ash of his cigar. “Got the mob at the back of you?” he asked.
Dillon nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “Those guys out there see me all the time. I tell 'em to do this an' that an' they do it. Okay. When the time comes, an' Hurst fades away, those guys ain't asking questions. They'll just go on takin' orders from me... get it?”
Roxy thought a little, then he said, “You've got somethin' there.”
Dillon nodded. “Yeah, I guess I got somethin' there all right.”
Roxy said, “I bet Myra thinks that's a good stunt.”
Dillon scowled. “That dame don't count,” he said coldly. “She's gettin' big ideas, an' she's goin' to get a surprise one of these days.”