“I asked her, Jerry.” I reached for her hand and he saw it.
His shrug said a lot of things. “Sure. What’s up?”
“Where’s Argenio?”
“Home in bed if he’s smart. He was on the Scipio thing all day.”
“Things ought to be quiet inside. Nobody should ask you any questions. I want you to check the M.P. reports.”
“Who’s missing?” he asked me.
“That’s what I want to find out.” I explained it to him quickly and he scowled.
“You got any idea how long that will take?”
“Maybe you’ll be lucky.”
“Damn it, Regan, I could be at that two-three days. Supposing it isn’t on the reports?”
“Then check the skid row bunch. They’re all permanent fixtures and somebody should know.”
“Suppose it isn’t this city?”
“Get cooperation from the other departments. We’ve done it before.”
He rubbed his hand over the stubble on his jaw. “You think it’s possible?”
“Don’t you?”
“Could be,” he nodded. “So it’ll cost me some sleep and plenty of hell at home. The wife’s complaining about the hours now and I’m not even bucking for promotion.” He nodded good night to us and walked inside.
Madaline looked at me and said, “Can I ask what that was all about?”
“Better you don’t know, sugar. Not now, anyway.”
“Flatfoot,” she grimaced pleasantly.
I saw a cab cruising and waved to it, got inside and gave the driver my address. Madaline raised her eyebrows at me. “Short night.”
I nudged her with my elbow. “It’s polite to wait until you’re asked.”
When I paid off the driver I waited until he was out of sight, made sure we were clear and went into the vestibule. I was finished taking chances. The light was on, the way was cleared and I had the.45 in my hand. Madaline’s feet followed mine to the landing and I held her to one side while I opened the door.
My apartment was empty.
I closed and locked the door while Madaline shucked out of her jacket, then got a knife and icepick from the kitchen, found the three holes where the slugs had imbedded themselves in the wall and worked for twenty minutes prying them out without doing too much damage.
Madaline looked at the squashed lead pellets in the palm of my hand and touched their flattened surfaces with a forefinger. Not much was left of them. “Will a comparison test prove anything?”
“Ballistics expert?”
“I read a lot.”
“I’m not interested in the gun, Mad. They’re easy to get. It’s the silencer and certain new chemical tests that will add things up.”
“All right, my inscrutable friend, play games, excite my curiosity. I have ways of getting even, you know.”
I dropped the slugs on the table and held my arms out. She came to me easily, her mouth tilted up, and her eyes were brand new, brand new. “Don’t ever do that,” I said.
“No... I never will, Regan.”
Chapter Six
The morning shrouded the city in a pall of mist that dripped down the windows and laid a slick on the streets. A fog smelling of factory refuse and polluted river water crept in from the west, touching everything with its clammy fingers.
It was a death day out there. You could see it and feel it and taste it. It was the old man with the scythe taking his seat in the coliseum to watch the bloody action he knew would be there.
People hurrying to work had their heads down against the damp, eyeing each other suspiciously, dodging the sharp points of umbrella ribs and snarling over their shoulders when they were almost impaled. The tires of the cars hissed against the pavement and the taxis moved impatiently searching for riders. It wasn’t bad enough for anyone to fight for their services yet and the drivers jockeyed toward the corners hoping to catch one of the undecided by stopping in front of them.
I grabbed one and packed Madaline in it and told the driver her office address, telling her I’d call later. She didn’t want to leave, but realized she couldn’t stay and kissed me goodbye gently, her fingertips caressing my face as she did. “Is it for real, Regan? Am I fooling myself?”
“It’s for real, baby.”
“Then there will be some changes made, darling,” she told me. “I’ll see you later.”
The next cab past stopped for me and I told him where to go in Brooklyn.
Nobody was at the Lazy Daisy club except a porter who was carrying out the cartons of empty bottles and accumulated night’s trash to the garbage cans beside the building. At night the place would be a garishly lit hangout for the wild money and the slum crowd from across the bridge looking for excitement, but by early daylight it was a drab, peeling slop-chute with all the earmarks of a sucker trap for the tourist trade.
The porter made me with one look and tried to get out of the way, but I yanked him back and said, “Don’t duck, pops. I don’t want you and there’s no squeal.”
“So what’cha want? I ain’t...”
“Helen the Melons. She works here. Where does she live?”
The old guy shrugged. It was none of his business and she wasn’t important enough to clam up for. “She got a pad at Annie Schwartz’s house. Two blocks over.” He gave the street and told me to look for the sign, then went back to his work after almost spitting on my shoes. He didn’t like cops either.
Annie Schwartz was a beer-bloated woman with too-yellow hair and bad teeth who took one casual glance at me and spat out, “Cop.”
“Right, Annie.”
“Don’t try rousting me, mister. This place is clean.”
“Enough to stand an inspection from the fire department? Or how about a review of...”
“What’re you after?”
“Blonde named Helen who works at the Lazy Daisy.”
“Upstairs. Number three.”
I walked past her and up the creaking stairs, found the door with a metal 3 tacked to it and knocked. Nobody answered and I tried the knob. The door swung inward on a wall of heavy perfume hanging in the musty air and the gentle rumble of Helen’s snore.
She was stretched out on a bed completely naked, the covers kicked to one side, her mouth open and slack. Her nickname described her well. If she had been larger topside she would have had to walk on all fours. I pulled the covers back over her and shook her awake, listening to her mouth obscenities.
Finally, her eyes focused on me, her mind worked up a tirade to throw at me, then she recognized me and tried to shrink down beneath the blankets. Her voice was almost a whisper. “Regan... what... I didn’t...”
“Don’t sweat it, Helen.”
She got a little more nerve then. “What right have you got to... listen, you got a search warrant or something? You looking for...” Then she saw the expression on my face and whimpered.
“What’s your deal with Al Argenio, Helen?” I asked her quietly.
“Al? What’s it to you?”
“If I ask you again it’ll be the hard way. No trouble making a nice soft twist like you speak up. You should know that.”
Helen tried to swallow but her mouth was too dry. She shook her head trying to get the meaning of things and failed. “Nothin’s with him and me. So he chases after me alla time. I got tired of it. Alla time breaking things up when I got somethin’ goin’ with somebody who’s got some dough. A dozen times I got a guy who’s willin’ to spend it on me and he steps in and busts it. Alla time promises from him and that’s all. I got tired and told him to blow. Him and his promises. Thinks he’s gonna make it big and gimme what I want. Like hell. He ain’t gonna make nothin’. So whatta I get? Lousy stocks he gimme for a present. Thinks they’re hot stuff and it’s paper. If he’d blow it on the ponies he might make it, but them damn stocks. You wanna see what he gimme? Look in that top drawer.”