Switching completely around, she began to help. He pulled at a zipper. She forced herself out of his grasp and shrugged off her dress. They assisted each other, fumbling with fastenings and beginning to laugh a little. She was beginning to seem excited. They had been together enough so he knew some of the things she liked. Her eyes closed, and she murmured her appreciation.
Presently he whispered, “Roll over. Nice for a change.”
She complied readily. With his free hand he felt in his jacket pocket, on the floor beside him, took one of the hypodermic ampules out of the flat package, and flicked off the cardboard guard with his thumb.
She was rolling her head back and forth, her face against the pillow.
“Mike, you bastard, where are you? Put it in me.”
He activated the plunger, filling the syringe, and hit her with the needle. His thumb came down.
She didn’t notice the small sting. Then she twisted so she could touch him, and the needle pulled. He withdrew it quickly. She came up on an elbow and stared at him through her tangled hair.
“What did you do to me?”
“Just gave you a small injection, baby; don’t worry about it. It’s a big thing with the college kids, like amyl nitrate.”
“Mike—”
“Everybody says it gives you a real bang. Lie down. I wanted to surprise you. You were almost there.”
“What was it?” she demanded. “Damn you, what was it?”
“I forget what they call it. After it’s over, you’re supposed to tell me you never felt anything like it, and do it again soon. That’s the shtick. The marvels of chemistry.”
She came up on her knees to face him. “You’re lying.”
He grinned at her. “If you don’t relax, you lose the effect.”
She snatched up the needle from where he had dropped it, and pumped a drop of fluid into her palm.
“I don’t know why you don’t trust me,” Shayne said. “I just wanted to find out if it’s as good as they say.”
“Is it heroin?”
“You know better than that. With heroin you go look for a vein.”
“Mike, tell me. It’s important! You’re trying to knock me out.”
“I’m not that quirked. I like my women conscious, and taking part.”
“Stop it! Stop talking that way! How fast does it work?”
“If you fight it, it may not work at all.”
She shook back her hair, and taking him by the arms, she said urgently, “This turns everything around! You’ve been faking all this, haven’t you? The money you borrowed — the drinking and fighting — my God, Mike!” She made a distracted gesture. “Watch out for Siracusa. I told him the robbery last night was phony. I said you’re working for Jo Meister.”
“Take your time,” Shayne said. “You’ve got a few minutes. Why did you do that?”
She ran her hand through her hair. “To buy my way in! That was one hell of a performance you put on. I didn’t really believe it till I heard what you did to Tim Rourke.”
“I just broke his jaw. He’ll recover.”
“Mike, can I take anything to counteract it? We ought to be making plans…”
“It wears off in four or five hours. Keep talking. What the hell did you expect to accomplish by throwing me to Siracusa?”
“Mike, there’s a sauna. The steam…”
She pulled him into the bathroom. Words tumbled out.
“I was Sherman Meister’s girl, we were going to get married as soon as he swung the divorce. Mike, I’m the one who persuaded him to go after the Mafia. That was all me, I made him do it! I wrote the editorials; it never occurred to me there was any danger…”
She pulled him into the steam. They remained standing, in a partial embrace.
“It was my fault he was killed! Then nobody did anything about it. The police were bought off, they’ve been taking payoffs for years. There was hardly an investigation.”
Their bodies were already very wet. The steam was now so heavy they couldn’t see each other. He let her tell it without interruptions.
“I had a horrible time, three horrible months. I loved him, and it was my fault. I had a tape of one of my editorials, and I kept playing it. This sickening stuff about how one individual can make a difference. Stand up and be counted. One with God is a majority. Incredibly naïve! But I was the one who wrote it. And finally I decided, damn it, I had to stand up and be counted!”
Her head swayed in against him. Her words were running together.
“I heard you owed money to a loan shark. You couldn’t pay it back. I thought you could be a kind of passport for me. You were in contact with them. I could get to meet Larry Zito, go to bed with him. Shake me. Hurt me, Mike. Keep me awake. Be careful with Siracusa.”
“He’s dead.”
She swayed away. “Did you kill him?”
“I had something to do with it. Don’t stop talking.”
“Kept trying to meet you. Finally, at the airport. One determined individual, make a difference. Get inside. Watch and listen. Sleep with everybody if I had to. Remember Mercedes — be ready to do anything.” She giggled sleepily. “And you did that, with the two of us, to convince them… I wondered and wondered. And then you beat up Rourke. Your best friend. Decided to sell you, make them think I’m on their side, said you’re working for dear Jo, you’d turned into such a slob, who cares…”
“Sarah.”
She was asleep. He pulled her out of the sauna and into the shower, where he turned on the cold water. The icy stream snapped her awake in his arms.
“So wrong,” she said. “Thought you were really… I told him you’re faking. Nicola…”
“What about Nicola?”
“Carl’s wife.”
Her eyelids came down, and she began to slide. Shayne pulled her erect, turning her face into the cold water, but the drug had taken a firm grip, and he could see she wasn’t coming back.
He turned off the water and lifted her out. Someone was knocking. Shayne put the girl on the floor, wrapped a towel around his waist, and went out dripping.
The bolt was thrown, and Skeets looked in. “The Don sent you some things.”
“Put them on the chair.”
Skeets looked curiously toward the bedroom. “How’s everything coming?”
“Not bad.”
“You’re sure you don’t need somebody to hang on to her while you…”
“She’s cooperating.”
“Hey, that’s good.”
He retreated.
Shayne returned to the bathroom, closed the toilet, and sat the unconscious girl on it while he toweled her hair. She kept slipping away. When she was reasonably dry, he carried her to the bedroom, opened the bed, and put her in it. She was sleeping peacefully, a slight smile on her lips. He patted her buttock, where he had sunk the hypodermic, and covered her.
Still dripping, he turned on water for coffee, and then used the shaving equipment Skeets had brought him, and dressed.
14
Skeets was waiting outside on the landing, close to the door so he could hear any sound of blows or erotic cries. After he let Shayne out and locked the door, Shayne picked the key out of his hand.
“I’ll take this.”
“The Don said I was supposed to—”
“Check it with him.”
Shayne found De Blasio still in the game room, studying an open ledger, his head tipped so he could look through the bottoms of his bifocals. He shut the book with a snap as Shayne came in.
“You look better. The shave and everything.”
“I’ve been thinking it over,” Shayne said, “and I think we can do business.”
De Blasio smiled happily, showing teeth too perfect to be his own. “I knew you’d see daylight, Mike, and I’m happy to hear it, believe me.”
“With a few qualifications. If I solve that problem for you, if I find out who really killed Meister, it’s worth more than five thousand. It’s worth ten now and another fifteen if I deliver.”