“I've got to talk to you, Killain.” The mayor's jowls were silver-stubbled and his eyes red-rimmed. The corners of his mouth twitched.
Johnny hesitated. “Walk over to the door,” he said finally. He had to get this fool out of here. Back at the table he awaited the finish of the hand. “Cash me in,” he said briefly. He had to stuff money in three pockets. “See you later, boys,” he said to the glum faces around the table watching the big winner check out.
Rudy was at the door with Lowell. It seemed to Johnny that the gambling operator and the mayor studiously avoided looking at each other. Rudy opened the door with his key. “It's a better game Saturdays,” he said. “Although I hear you should have no complaint with this one. Give us a return bout Saturday.”
“I just might do that.” Johnny took Lowell's arm and hustled him outside. The bartender was gone but a man tipped up on a chair leaning back against a cigarette machine rose and let them out. On the street Johnny turned to Lowell. “Now what kind of an idiot's trick was that, showin' your face in there?”
“I had to talk to you.” The mayor's words came with a rush. “After you left I got to thinking about what you'd said. Not being able to reach Mrs. Thompson, I mean. I tried to call her myself. When I couldn't get an answer I went over there.” He gestured impatiently at Johnny's look. “Yes, I know what time it was and I'm not drunk. There's something going on I don't understand. Anyway, I went to her apartment. She's not there. No sign of her at all. The building superintendent said he hadn't seen her for four days.”
“Four days?” Johnny echoed. Had Micheline Thompson been at the Taft with her husband after all? Johnny frowned at the dark, deserted street.
Beside him Richard Lowell drew a deep breath. “I want you to find her, Killain,” he said firmly.
“At three in the mornin'?” A thought occurred to Johnny. “How did you find me in the game here?”
“I called Daddario. He has a man on you.” The mayor said it as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
“An' I suppose the man is takin' stenographic notes while we stand here blattin' at each other?” Johnny said in disgust.
Richard Lowell paid no attention. “I want you to find Mrs. Thompson,” he repeated.
“Why didn't you ask Daddario where she was? He was glued right to her when I saw them. If she's under cover it's a good bet he put her there.”
“I accused him of it. He denied it. Professed to be alarmed, as a matter of fact. I don't doubt that he'd lie to me but I'd like to know why.” He tugged nervously at an earlobe. “I don't like it. Daddario's up to something. I'm damned if I'm going to stand flatfooted and let that-that mountebank jerk the rug from beneath me. I want to talk to Mrs. Thompson and I want you to find her.” For the first time there was a ring of authority in Lowell's voice. “She undoubtedly knows something about Daddario's movements in New York he doesn't want disclosed. I want to know what it is. How long will it take you to find her?”
Johnny stared at him. “How the hell do I know? Right this second I don't even know where to begin. An' get it out of your noggin' that I'm startin' at three in the a.m. Daylight will be plenty soon enough.” He rode roughshod over the mayor's voice as Lowell tried to interrupt. “Who's Daddario got tailin' me?”
“Probably one of Jack Riley's men.”
“Is there an all-night telegraph office in town?”
Lowell nodded. “Two blocks north and a block east. Why?”
Johnny took him by the arm again. “Let's go. It's not every day I get a mayor as my bodyguard.” With a firm grip on the mayoral arm he towed Lowell along.
“Really, Killain, I-” The mayor subsided, evidently considering a struggle undignified. He walked along beside Johnny, hurrying to keep up with Johnny's longer stride. At the Western Union office Johnny commandeered a table and dumped money from all his pockets upon it. Richard Lowell's eyes widened. Johnny sorted bills swiftly and counted out Mickey Tallant's original three thousand dollars. He made another bundle of the rest and counted again. He had thirty-two hundred dollars in the second bundle. He divided it in two, put half in his pocket, added the other half to the three thousand, and stepped up to the counter.
“Mind givin' me a money order for this?” he inquired of the clerk, and pulled a telegraph blank toward himself. He thought a moment and printed swiftly. YOUR MONEY WAS IN ACTION AND HITS HARDER THAN YOU DO. He signed it, inserted Mickey Tallant's name and the address of the Rollin' Stone above it and laid it down beside the stacks of bills the clerk was counting. He counted three times before looking up at Johnny inquiringly.
“I make it forty-six hundred.”
“I make it the same.” He waited for his receipt and put it carefully in his wallet. Outside on the sidewalk again he looked at Richard Lowell. “Who's Rudy payin' off to run wide open like that?”
“I have no idea.” The mayor's tone was indifferent.
“You're the mayor, man. You don't know what's goin' on in your own town?”
“We are not a reform administration,” Lowell said stiffly. “And I've already told you that my followers on the city council are in the minority.”
“The minority's not in on the take?”
“What makes you think there is a take, as you call it?”
“For God's sake, man, you think I was born yesterday?” Johnny demanded impatiently. “Are you in on this payoff yourself?”
Mayor Richard Lowell closed his mouth firmly. “Let me know when you find Mrs. Thompson, Killain.” He turned and started to walk away.
“Just a minute, buster.” Johnny caught him by the arm. “If I find her it could be because I'll have my own reasons. Now what the hell are yours?”
Richard Lowell freed his arm with dignity. “I thought I'd already made that clear. I think she's being coerced into something. I don't trust Daddario and I don't propose to stand still while he hunts for my head.” He stalked off up the street.
Johnny stood and watched him go. Could any reasonably honest politician afford to walk into a gambling joint the way Mayor Richard Lowell had done? And if there were two crooked politicians in this town wouldn't they almost have to be working together? Of course they could have had a falling out He was ahead in one respect, Johnny decided. Dick Lowell at least had not shown a passionate desire to remove Johnny from the scene. Dick Lowell on the contrary seemed eager for help. If Micheline Thompson had actually been in New York with her husband then coercion was about the only way you could explain her Manhattan suite appearance with Daddario.
Coercion. Or collusion Johnny stirred himself. He had to get some sleep. The adrenalin-charged excitement of the card game was gone. He set out for Mrs. Peterson's. He ought to call Sally in New York tomorrow, he mused. To find out if there were any developments at that end of the line. Find out, too, if a date had been set for that inquest. Joe Dameron could get a little sticky at Johnny's non-appearance at that affair even if it was cut-and-dried.
He turned into the street leading to Mrs. Peterson's, whistling tunelessly to himself. Maybe the whole thing would make more sense in the daylight. Perhaps he could Fifty feet from Mrs. Peterson's Johnny's quick eye saw a shadow across the street move soundlessly and blend with the deeper shadow of a tree trunk. Someone was watching the rooming house. There was only one reason anyone would be watching the rooming house. Conscious suddenly of the sound of his own footfalls in the pre-dawn quiet he repressed the instinctive urge to soften them. He swung on past the Petersons' without a pause, never missing a beat in his tuneless whistle. In the middle of the next block he changed gears and crossed the street, the whistle gone, the footsteps quieted.
He came back down the quiet street as silently as a windblown leaf. In the middle of the block across from the Petersons' there was no street light. If he hadn't known the man was there Johnny might easily have gone past him. The silent shadow behind the tree with his eyes on the darkened rooming house heard or saw nothing until Johnny's hands closed down from behind on his throat.