“How was she killed?”
“She got shot. She was driving in my car and they pulled up and did a fancy job on her with a machine gun.”
“They thought she was you, didn’t they?” she said.
“I guess they did. But it’s worked out fine for us. We’re getting out now. This is what we killed Lesser for and we’re going to grab it while we can.”
She was quiet for a long while and then she said, in a soft, far-away voice, “You killed Lesser, didn’t you Johnny?”
“I killed him,” I said. “Frank just slugged him and walked out. I came in afterwards and let him have it.”
“I knew it was odd that Frank kept saying he didn’t. He never lied about anything, and if he’d killed him he would have said so. I think I knew all along that you did it.”
“I’d do it again,” I said. I didn’t know why I felt like talking, but the words were spilling out and it did me good to hear them. “I’ve killed for you, baby, and I’m going to have you. I fixed it so the blonde would get killed tonight. She knew enough to cause me trouble and she had to go. I’m not leaving anybody around who can send me to the chair. If it’s me or somebody else... well, Johnny comes first.”
We were quiet for a while. Finally she said, “What time is it now, Johnny?”
I looked at my watch. “Three o’clock. It’s time for me to get out. There’s a lot to be done before seven in the morning. I’ve got to get all the dough I can, get the tickets and pack what I’ll need.”
“You can wait a little longer,” she said.
It was almost three thirty when I went to the door. She came with me and when I was ready to go she pulled me close to her and kissed me hard on the lips. I saw that she was crying.
“Don’t worry, baby, I’ll be back in a few hours. Just pack enough to last you a few days. To hell with everything else.”
“Good bye, Johnny,” she whispered.
I went down the steps and over to Sheridan Road, looking for a cab. I stood there for about fifteen minutes and then I decided the L would be a better bet. I walked back to the L station at Granville and waited about another fifteen minutes for a train to the Loop.
When I got downtown it was almost four-thirty. The first thing I did when I went into the lobby of the hotel was to write a check for eleven hundred dollars, which would clean me out at the bank.
The night clerk looked at it for a moment, shaking his head slowly.
“This is rather steep, Mr. Ford. I’m not authorized to cash checks this large.”
“Hell, you know me.”
He looked at the check for a while. Then he smiled.
“I guess it’s all right. You’re one of our regulars. The rule is really to prevent fly-by-nighters from overdrawing their accounts and clearing out of town before we can get the check to the bank.”
With the money in my pocket I had about fifteen hundred dollars. I went up to my room and called TWA. The girl who answered the phone told me she couldn’t get my two seats through to California, but she could promise me a ride as far as Denver. That was all right, so I told her I’d pick up the tickets at the airport. With that out of the way I felt better. From Denver we could wait for a flight west or hop one of the Chiefs.
I packed in a hurry. I got out a small grip and put in my shaving things, and then I threw in a few extra shirts and some socks and underwear.
There was still plenty of time so I took a quick shower and put on clean clothes and the gabardine suit. After that I sat down at the desk and went through all the drawers and made a nice pile out of my letters, betting slips and things like that, tore them all in little strips and tossed them into the waste basket.
I was feeling all right. The tightness that had been with me for the last week seemed to leave, and I felt clean and wide awake and excited.
At six o’clock I was ready, so I called Alice. I sat on the edge of the bed with a fresh cigarette and listened to her phone ring. It rang four times before I got worried. I knew she might be taking a bath or something, but she should be able to hear the phone.
I let it ring about a dozen times before I got the operator and told her to dial the number again. She made another connection and pretty soon I heard her phone buzzing again. I let it ring about twenty times before I hung up.
I sat there and finished the cigarette. The room was quiet and my thoughts were twisting around and I started to feel the tight ache inside me once more.
She should be home. I walked around the room a while, then decided to start out there. She might have gone out to get a bottle of cream for coffee or something, but it was crazy of her to waste time.
I picked up my grip, took a last look around the room and went down the corridor to the elevator. On the way down I checked everything over in my mind, and there wasn’t a hitch except that Alice wasn’t home. I didn’t like that.
There wasn’t much going on in the lobby. A janitor was moving around slowly with a mop, getting in a few last touches before the crowds started coming in, and there was tired-looked couple standing at the reservation window, and they had the hopeless look of people who want a place to sleep and are listening to a guy explaining how tough things are and how sorry he is that he can’t help them out.
I dropped my cigarette into one of the sand-filled vases beside the elevator and started to cross the lobby. Halfway across it I noticed a car pull up at the entrance.
Three men got out and pushed their way through the revolving door. They were walking fast toward the desk, and their faces were hard and serious.
The guy in front was Harrigan. Maybe if I’d kept walking they wouldn’t have noticed me, but I stood there frozen. One of them spotted me and they all turned and came over to me, fast.
Harrigan looked tired. He needed a shave and his thin face under the rim of his hat brim looked sour and mean. He looked at the grip I was carrying.
“Going somewhere?” he said.
The two guys with him came around on either side of me and I swallowed hard to get the sudden dryness out of my throat.
“Business trip,” I said.
“Not today,” Harrigan said. “Put that grip down. Look him over, boys.”
I put the grip down and they went over me fast. When they were through Harrigan said, “Let’s go. We want to talk to you at Central.”
“Now wait a minute,” I said. The words came out jerkily. I knew talking wouldn’t help, but the words spilled out anyway. “I got things to do. You can’t drag me in like this. What’s this all about?”
“Let’s go,” Harrigan said.
Chapter XVI
They took me to a dirty room on the fifth floor of Central Station at Eleventh and State. There was a desk with cigarette burns all over the top and five or six wooden chairs with broken rungs. The smell of stale smoke and dirty clothes hung in the air.
Harrigan told me to take a chair beside the desk. One of the guys who’d brought me in went out, and the other copper, a big pale guy named Slade, sat down in a chair against the wall.
The door opened and Morowitz, the assistant State’s Attorney came in, looking like he’d just got out of bed. His dark hair was still rumpled and he needed a shave, but his eyes weren’t sleepy.
He bent over and whispered something to Harrigan. Harrigan nodded slowly and they looked over at me and I knew this wasn’t any funny business. His face was hard and grave.
He said, “Better make up your mind to level with us, Johnny. We know you’ve been living with Olsen’s wife while he was overseas. Was that why you wanted him out of the way?”
They knew about us. I didn’t know how much else they knew, but they had a good start. They had the one thing I was afraid all along they might get.