She opened the door, and as I moved by her she said in a whisper, ‘Tonight. Eleven o’clock. The Three Crab Restaurant.’
For a moment, I didn’t believe what she had said. I turned, but the door had shut in my face.
I returned to my apartment just after 18.00.
Bill was at my desk, still reading the Thorsen file. He left it reluctantly and joined me in a lounging chair with a stiff Scotch I made.
In detail, I told him of my interview with Walinski. He listened.
‘It seems to me, Bill, this wasn’t the Mafia, but a private vendetta job, carried out by Hank and Minsky for five thousand dollars. Minsky is buried somewhere where he won’t be found, so we don’t have to worry about him. Now, Hank...’
‘Yes, Hank,’ Bill said nodding.
‘We’re going to call on him, and we are going to find out who hired him to do this acid job. I can guess it was Angela Thorsen, but I want to know for sure. When he sings, and if it is Angela, then we go after her.’
Again Bill nodded.
‘How do we make a big ape like Hank sing?’
‘Can you put your hands on a blowtorch?’
Bill grinned.
‘Oh, sure. Yes, that’s a good idea. We burn him a little, then he sings.’
He brooded while he finished his drink.
‘How did Walinski strike you, Dirk?’
‘Dangerous: a snake. Not anyone to fool with.’ I went on to tell him about Sandra. He listened, popeyed.
‘You meeting her?’ he asked.
‘Why not? Know anything about the Three Crab?’
Bill was always a mine of information about restaurants and clubs.
‘On the waterfront. Good. Expensive. Next to Solly Joel’s joint. You know that?’
‘Right. OK, Bill, see what you can do about a blowtorch. I’ll talk to Hank on the telephone.’
‘The janitor is certain to have one.’ He left the apartment, and I went to a closet and dug out two pairs of handcuffs. I got my .38 from its box, checked it was loaded and dropped it into my pocket. Then I got the telephone book and looked up Hank’s number.
It took over a dozen rings before Hank snarled, ‘Who is it?’
‘Mr Smedley?’ I made my voice sound tough and hard. ‘This is police headquarters.’
‘Oh, yeah? So what? You found that fucker who bombed out my joint?’
‘That’s what we want to talk to you about, Mr Smedley, Just a few questions. We are sending two detectives around to your place. OK!’
‘Yeah. Hurry it up. I’ve got to go out in an hour,’ and he hung up.
Bill returned, carrying a blowtorch.
‘No problem. It’s new and works well,’ he said.
‘Right. Then let’s go.’
‘Look, Dirk, I want to take care of this ape. Will you give me the front seat?’
‘You’re just thirsting to see if your Sunday punch settles him.’
‘It will.’
We reached Seagrove Road in ten minutes. We rode up to the top floor.
‘This is for me,’ Bill said.
I stood aside, leaning against the wall, gun in hand. I watched Bill as he thumbed the bell push.
There was a pause, then the door jerked open. Hank stood there. He was wearing tight-fitting jeans. The upper part of his body was naked. As he stood glaring down at Bill, I don’t think I’ve seen a finer built body of muscle apart from professional boxers.
‘You a cop?’ Hank snarled, then he stiffened. ‘I know you! Goddamn it! Get the hell out of here before I smear you!’
Bill said something in a low voice which Hank couldn’t hear. He did what Bill wanted him to do. He leaned forward, thrusting his ape-like face at Bill. He made a perfect target. Bill’s fist, protected by his knuckle-duster, slammed against Hank’s jaw with a ‘thwack’ that made me wince.
Hank’s eyes rolled back, showing only the whites, and he went down like a pole-axed bull.
‘Spaghetti,’ Bill said contemptuously.
Together, we dragged the huge body into the living room. It took me only a few seconds to handcuff the thick wrists behind his muscular back, then handcuff his ankles together.
Bill shut and locked the front door. We paused to look around.
At one time, the living room was comfortable and well furnished, but now it was showing shabbiness and neglect. I went, gun in hand into the two bedrooms and the tiny kitchen, which was in a mess, and then checked out the bathroom, also messy. Hank was on his own.
‘OK, Bill, don’t let’s waste time on this jerk,’ I said. ‘Get some water and get him to the surface.’
Bill went into the kitchen, found a bucket, half filled it with water and sloshed the water in Hank’s unconscious face. He then pumped up the blowtorch and got it going. There was a hiss, and a blue-yellow flame came through the vent holes.
Hank stirred, opened his eyes, shook his head, moaned and closed his eyes. I kicked him solidly in the ribs, making him groan as he struggled to sit up. With my foot on his forehead, I slammed him back on the soaking wet carpet.
He snarled at me the way a jungle cat, trapped, will snarl at the hunter.
‘Who paid you five thousand to acid-job my girl?’ I demanded.
He wrestled with the handcuffs, but that got him nowhere. They were the kind that became tighter the more you wrestled.
‘Don’t know what you’re talking about,’ he mumbled.
I looked at Bill.
‘Let him have a flick of heat,’ I said.
‘My pleasure,’ Bill said and ran the blue-yellow flame with a quick motion over Hank’s naked chest. Hank screamed. He seemed to fall to pieces. The snarl and the hate went. Now deep fear took over.
‘Don’t do it!’ he gasped. ‘OK, I’ll tell you. Just don’t do that again.’
‘Who?’ I demanded, squatting by his side.
‘Angie. Keep that flame away from me!’
‘Tell me!’
Bill moved forward and waved the hissing flame near Hank’s face. He squealed. Sweat poured off him.
‘Tell me!’ I shouted at him.
‘Angie came to me. She was crazy mad that you stopped her getting Terry’s money. Crazy mad! I’m telling you! She scared me! It was her idea about the acid. When she offered five big ones, I talked to Hula who arranges anything. So we did it. I didn’t mean for her to get killed. I swear I didn’t. I thought it would be a little bit of skin peeling. I swear I didn’t think she would run into the road and get smashed up by a truck. I swear it!’
I looked at him with loathing.
‘Did you get the money?’
‘Sure thing. When Angie says she’ll pay, she pays. I got half. Hula got the other half.’
‘Where’s Hula?’
‘I dunno. He had a call last night. He said he had to go out on business. He hasn’t come back.’
‘Did he say where he was going?’
‘I don’t ask Hula questions,’ Hank said, eyeing the blowtorch. ‘No one in their right skulls asks Hula questions. I dunno where he is.’
I could have told him, but decided not to.
‘OK, Hank, we’re making progress,’ I said. ‘Now Angie. She’s been paying you ten thousand a month, hasn’t she?’
He shook his head as Bill shifted the flame of the blowlamp.
‘Not to me. Look, this is how it works. Hula comes to me. He wants to use my club as a drop. He pays me five hundred a week to use my club. So, OK, I go along with that. He owns this pad. He lets me use it. I don’t know a thing. I swear it!’
‘Keep talking,’ I said.
Bill moved a little closer so Hank could feel the heat of the flame. He cringed away.
‘People come to my club and give me envelopes. Angie gives me a wallet. I put everything in a bag. I don’t ask questions. On the first of the month, Hula comes and I give him the bag, and that’s it.’
‘Why is Angie being blackmailed?’
‘I dunno. I swear I don’t! It’s Hula who digs up the dirt about people. I don’t ask questions. I don’t want to know. I guess Hula has something on Angie. Something so hot, she is paying out all this dough. She ain’t right in the head. She’s a real nut-case. She’s always been a nut-case.’