“Will you do that?” Grantham sounded relieved. “Get round tomorrow early, Tootsie. This ain’t the time to he down on it.”
Mendetta stood up. “Leave it to me,” he said. “I’ll fix him,” and he hung up.
Jean came out of the bathroom. She looked strikingly beautiful in her silk wrap. Perhaps her mouth was too large, but it gave her a generous look that was not in her nature. She was tall, with square shoulders, a narrow waist and thick hips.
“Who was it?” she said.
Mendetta went over to the table and gathered up the cards. He didn’t feel like patience any more.
“Grantham,” he returned, putting the cards carefully in their container. He was a very tidy man. He took two little sips from the whisky.
She looked over at the clock. “What did he want? It’s late.”
Mendetta nodded his big head. “I know,” he said. “Go to bed. I’ll come in a little while.”
She turned her head so that he couldn’t see the sudden vicious look that came into her eyes. “Don’t be so secretive,” she said lightly. “Is he in trouble?”
He stubbed out his cigar. “He’s always in trouble. That’s why I’m hereto pull him out.” He plodded over to her. His big heavy hand rested on her hip. “Go to bed. I shan’t be long.”
“Tootsie, I must know,” she said. “Has something happened at the Club?”
He looked at her with a curious expression, half angry, half amused. He turned her towards the bedroom door. “It’s nothing,” he said. “Go to bed,” and he smacked her across her buttocks very hard.
She went away from him, her knees weak and her inside coiled into a hard ball of hatred. She went across the bedroom to the window and pulled back the curtains. Leaning against the window−frame, she looked down into the street below. She remained like that for several minutes before she regained control of herself.
If Mendetta had seen her expression as she stood by the window he would have been uneasy. As it was, his indifference to her feelings prepared the way for what eventually happened.
In the street, Raven crossed the road casually and walked towards the apartment block. When he neared the lighted entrance he stopped and knelt down to adjust his shoe−string. From under his slouch hat, he surveyed the doorway thoroughly. He was not satisfied with the empty doorway, so he crossed the street again and passed the block on the opposite side. His caution rewarded him.
A little guy, dressed in black, lounged against the wall in the shadows near the entrance. He kept so still that Raven wouldn’t have noticed him at all if he’d come straight into the blinding light of the doorway.
The little guy had his hands deep in his coat pockets, and he watched Raven pass on the other side of the street, indifferently.
Raven went on, crossed the road again and turned down a side street. He turned to his right after a few minutes’ walking and approached the rear of the apartment block. This time he kept to the shadows. He hadn’t gone far before he spotted another little guy, also dressed in black, lounging near the rear exit.
So it wasn’t going to be the easy way. He might have known it. It was a cinch that if Mendetta had guards outside the block, there would be guards inside as well.
Raven went on, his head thrust forward, the line of his jaw fixed, and his thin lips compressed. He knew Mendetta couldn’t escape from him. It was just a matter of time.
4
June 5th, 40 a.m.
JAY GOT round to the 22nd Club twenty minutes before it closed down for the night. There were a lot of people dancing and drinking, and he went immediately to the bar.
The bartender looked at him and rang a bell in Grantham’s office by pressing his toe on a button on the floor. His well−disciplined face smiled at Jay, and he asked him what he’d like. Jay ordered a beer.
Benny Perminger came up at the moment, very hot and damp, and ordered a double Scotch. He seemed delighted to see Jay.
“What a stranger,” he said; “and drinkin’ beer too! Don’t you know it’s bad etiquette to drink beer in a joint like this?”
Jay shook hands with him. “I don’t have to worry about such things,” he said seriously. “No one expects a newspaper man to behave like a human being. How’s the motor trade?”
Benny shook his head. “Lousy,” he said. “There’s too much competition. Seriously, Jay, I’m havin’ a bad time just gettin’ along.”
Jay pursed his lips. There were always guys who had a bad time getting along, but they went to places like the 22nd Club and spent as much in a night as he earned in a week. Benny was one of these.
“I saw your chief. Poison, the other night. My God! Have you seen his car? It’s just a ruin on four wheels.
It’s time he had a new one.”
Jay shrugged. “Poison’s old−fashioned. He likes that car. Maybe he’s got sentimental memories.”
“I don’t believe it; he’s just mean. Listen, Jay, could you put in a word for me? If I could get that old buzzard to take a trial run I’d hook him, but I can’t get near him.”
Jay promised to do what he could.
“There’s another guy who I want to get in with. That’s Mendetta. He could use a flock of my cars. I do trucks now, you know. Beggars can’t be choosers. I guess that guy could use a lot of trucks. I’ve been trying to persuade Grantham to get me an introduction, but he doesn’t seem keen. I suppose I’ll have to offer him a split in my commission.”
“Does Grantham know Mendetta?” Jay asked, suddenly interested.
“Know him? Why, of course he knows him. I thought everyone knew that. Mendetta put up the dough for this Club. He’s got his finger in every pie.”
Jay drank some beer. “Aaah,” he said, putting the glass down, “Mendetta’s a bad guy. I’d forget about him.”
Benny shrugged. “What the hell. His dough’s good, ain’t it?” he said. “I don’t care who buys my cars as long as he pays.”
Jay finished his beer. “Maybe you’re right,” he said.
Just then a blonde came in, followed by a tall young man with heavy, horn−rimmed glasses. The blonde wore a red dress, very tight across her small breasts, and when she climbed up on the high stool at the bar she showed a lot of her legs.
Benny looked at her. He stared so hard that she giggled suddenly and adjusted her skirt. Benny sighed.
“There’re an awful lot of swell dames around tonight,” he said to Jay. “She’s nice, ain’t she?”
Jay wasn’t very interested. “Sure,” he said; “they’re all nice. Where’s your wife? How is she, anyway?”
Benny still looked at the blonde. “Sadie? Oh, she’s fine. She’s out there with my party. I sort of wanted a drink. Did I? No, that’s wrong. I came out for a doings. Seeing you put it out of my mind. I guess I’d better get on.” He shook hands again and went off.
Jay ordered another beer. While he was waiting for it, he saw Grantham come in. Grantham was very tall and thin, with silver−white hair. His face was hard. Two lines ran from his nose to his mouth, and he looked very grey. Jay only knew him by sight, he’d never spoken to him. When he saw him, he turned back to the bar and paid the bartender.
Grantham came up and stood at his elbow. “What do you want?” he said. His voice was very hostile.
Jay looked at him by turning his head. “Should I know you?” he asked. “Are you someone I ought to know?”
Grantham introduced himself. “We don’t have newspaper men in here, you know,” he said; “we don’t like them in here.”
Jay raised his eyebrows. “That’s interestin’,” he said. “That’s very interesting. No newspaper men, huh?
And who else? Tell me your black list. I bet you don’t like the cops in here either.”