“That’s the way it is, huh?” he said softly. “You’re gettin’ too big for your pants. Jest because you’ve been laid a few times you think you can talk big. Okay, sister, here it is.”
He smacked her across her face hard with his open hand, at the same time releasing his grip on her throat. She fell off the bed and rolled on the floor. He kicked her hard in her ribs with his bare foot. She slid away with the force of the kick across to her own bed.
“Now get to sleep an’ shut your trap. You ain’t got anythin’ more than any other woman… get it?”
He pulled up the bedclothes and snapped out the light. She remained sobbing with rage on the cold floor.
Dillon used Jakie’s Poolroom on Nineteenth for his headquarters. The boys spent a lot of their time pushing the balls around, waiting for something to turn up. Dillon had a little office at the far end of the poolroom. It was quite a place. He had a roll-top desk and several modern chairs of chromium and leather. The door had a ground-glass panel with ‘AUTOMATICS, LTD.’ painted on it, and in smaller letters at the bottom right-hand corner, ‘Manager’. Dillon liked that, it made him feel good.
When Roxy blew in during the early afternoon the poolroom was full. Dillon’s boys were drinking, talking and playing snooker. They glanced up when Roxy came in, looked at him suspiciously and glanced at one another.
Roxy stood in the doorway, his hat tipped over his eyes. “Mr. Dillon around?” he asked.
One of them jerked his thumb to the door. “In there,” he said briefly.
Roxy started across the floor. A big bird suddenly got in his way. “Hey!” he said. “Where the hell do you think you’re goin’?”
Roxy said patiently, “I wantta see Dillon.”
The big bird said, “Wait.” He ran his hands over Roxy, feeling for a gun, then he knocked on the door and put his head round. He withdrew after a moment and nodded at Roxy. “Go ahead,” he said. “You’re okay.”
Dillon was thumbing through a newspaper, half hidden by the top of the desk. He glanced up and looked at Roxy thoughtfully.
“Jeeze! Quite the big shot,” Roxy said.
Dillon said coldly, “Come on in, an’ shut the door.”
Roxy closed the door and sat down. He ran his fingers over the stove-pipe furniture. “Hot, ain’t it?” he said admiringly. “This is some joint.”
Dillon opened a drawer and took out a box of cigars. He pushed them over to Roxy. “You wantta join up?” he said.
Roxy selected a cigar, bit the end off and spat it from his mouth. “Yeah,” he said. “I’d like to get into somethin’ steady. My racket is gettin’ shot to hell.”
Dillon looked at him thoughtfully. “What I’m goin’ to tell you ain’t to go further,” he said, keeping his voice low.
Roxy looked a little startled, but he nodded. “Sure, I don’t talk,” he said. “You should know that!”
Dillon hitched his chair closer. “I’m figgerin’ you’re the guy I’ve been lookin’ for,” he said. “Maybe I’m wrong, but I don’t think so. Listen. At the moment I’m runnin’ this automatic racket an’ I’m picking up around fifteen grand a week. Nice, but nothin’ to rave about. Hurst’s got a grand organization. He’s got protection. He’s got a real tough crowd workin’ for him. This Hurst guy gets so far, but he don’t go the limit. With his organization, he could go the limit.”
Roxy drew on his cigar, letting the heavy smoke slide from his mouth. “What’s the limit?” he asked.
Dillon said very quietly, “Little Ernie’s the limit.”
Roxy’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t get that,” he said.
“I want to take over Ernie’s part of the town. Hurst won’t stand for it, but I guess if I did it he’d have to stick by me an’ like it.”
“What’s that to me?” Roxy asked cautiously.
Dillon looked at him hard. “The whole town’d be too big for me to handle. I gotta have a guy I could trust. You’d get in on this on the ground floor.”
Roxy said, “Maybe Hurst wouldn’t stand for it.”
Dillon got up and walked to the door. He opened it and glanced outside, then he came back and put his head close to Roxy’s. “Maybe what Hurst says won’t count any more.”
Roxy looked up into his black eyes. He shifted uneasily at the malevolence there. He hastily turned his eyes, and studied the grey ash of his cigar. “Got the mob at the back of you?” he asked.
Dillon nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “Those guys out there see me all the time. I tell ’em to do this an’ that an’ they do it. Okay. When the time comes, an’ Hurst fades away, those guys ain’t asking questions. They’ll just go on takin’ orders from me… get it?”
Roxy thought a little, then he said, “You’ve got somethin’ there.”
Dillon nodded. “Yeah, I guess I got somethin’ there all right.”
Roxy said, “I bet Myra thinks that’s a good stunt.”
Dillon scowled. “That dame don’t count,” he said coldly. “She’s gettin’ big ideas, an’ she’s goin’ to get a surprise one of these days.”
Roxy looked startled. “I like Myra,” he mumbled. “She’s got what it takes.”
Dillon shrugged, and stood up. “When I’m ready, I’ll tell you,” he said. “Can I count on you?”
Roxy said, “Sure, you can count me in. I’ve been waiting for a break like this for some time. I guess I was too cautious when I was runnin’ around with Fan. You seen her, by the way?”
Dillon shot him a quick, suspicious glance. “I ain’t seen her,” he said.
Roxy sat down on the edge of the table. “Listen, Bud,” he said evenly. “Don’t let’s start this game with a double-cross. I ain’t sore you pinched Fan from me. I miss her just like I’d miss a deck of cards I got used to, but that’s all.”
Dillon clenched his fists. His eyes gleamed at Roxy. “You been checkin’ up on me?” he said, a gritty sound in his voice.
Roxy said hastily, “Hell! I wouldn’t do a thing like that. I just heard—”
Dillon said, “It’d better get no further. I don’t want that little bag Myra gettin’ ideas about Fan.”
Roxy shook his head. “She ain’t dumb,” he said thoughtfully. “You watch her. She’ll get on to it.”
Dillon began pacing the small office. “I’m gettin rattled with that dame. I guess she’s about washed up with me. She’ll have to get to hell out of it.”
Roxy touched the ash off his cigar into the tray. “You’ll have a little trouble,” he said. “I’d be careful how you handle that bird.”
Dillon shot him another cold look. “I can handle her,” he said. “You keep your nose clean on this. Anyway, suppose you get to work an’ wise yourself up on Little Ernie’s territory? What I want is a list of all the smalltime stores, hotels an’ suchlike who could take on automatic machine. You walk round an’ take a look at the ground. You’re on the pay-roll now, so you might as well get used to a little work.”
Roxy grinned. “I get it,” he said. “What you pay in’?”
“I’ll give you a couple of hundred bucks an’ ten per cent on the take when we get goin’.”
Roxy shrugged his shoulders. “I guess you’re right about gettin’ rid of the big shots. I could do with a little of their share.”
When he had gone, Dillon went over to the telephone and rang Fanquist. Her slow drawl floated to his ear. “Listen, baby,” he said, speaking close to the mouthpiece, “I’ve just had a word with Roxy. He knows, but that guy is shootin’ on the level. I’ve fixed him up to work for me, an’ he ain’t goin’ to start trouble.”
Fanquist started her old beef. “When are we really goin’ to get together? I’m sick of this jumpin’-in-an’-out-of-bed stunt of yours.”