“Carmingler’s never been certain of anything,” I said.
“He is of this.”
“You’ve waited long enough for it so I’ll say what?”
“Gerald Vicker.”
“Old Gerald.”
“He’s got to Senator Simon.”
“That’s not quite news,” I said.
“It will be when Simon makes his speech next Friday.”
“You’re a born tease, aren’t you?”
“You want it all?”
“Most of it anyway.”
“All right. Vicker got to Senator Simon and told him all about the Li Teh fiasco and how you’d spent three months in jail. The Senator’s not too happy with Section Two anyway, but I won’t go into the reasons unless you insist.”
“I don’t.”
“So now he’s going to make a speech on the Senate floor about the Li Teh thing and about how Section Two is messing in domestic politics where it’s not supposed to be. And you’re the goat. That’s bad enough, of course, but Simon’s also working with a top magazine that’s going to run a muckraker’s delight on you and this crew you’re working with here in Swankerton.”
“They’ve got two sources, I’d say. Gerald Vicker and his brother, Ramsey Lynch.”
“That’s right.”
“Carmingler’s worried about his appropriations,” I said.
“That and he just doesn’t like publicity.”
“Well, you can tell him that I think he’s got a real problem.”
“You’ve got until Friday,” he said.
“Your name is Mugar, isn’t it?”
“Franz Mugar.”
“If I don’t bow out by Friday, what happens then, Franz?”
“You’ll bow out one way or another.”
“A promise, I take it?”
“If you like. If you don’t, it’s a threat.”
“What about my associates?”
“A little scummy, aren’t they?”
“Not for me, but then I bet you and I don’t travel in the same crowd. I know Carmingler doesn’t.”
“We don’t care about them,” Mugar said. “We just don’t want anything of ours around that can tie us into this mess when it breaks.”
“And I’m the anything?”
“That’s right.”
“And if I don’t go quietly, then I’ll go however you decide’s best?”
“That’s right,” Mugar said again.
“I don’t like threats. They make me nervous.”
“You should take something for it.”
I rose, walked over to the phone, and picked it up. “Chief Necessary’s room, please.”
Mugar stared at me. I beckoned him over to the phone. “I’ll hold it so you can hear,” I said. He moved over so that he could hear.
When Necessary came on I said, “How much room do we have in that new jail of ours?”
“Plenty,” Necessary said.
“There’s somebody in town who calls himself Franz Mugar. I think he’s our old friend ‘just a guy.’ ”
“You want to cool him off?”
“I think so.”
“You want it legal and all?”
“No.”
“We can keep him a while on one thing or another. Where is he?”
“Right here in my room.”
“Will he stay put until I send somebody around?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I’ll ask him.”
Mugar was backing toward the door. “You sonofabitch,” he said.
“I don’t think so, Homer,” I said.
Necessary chuckled. “Well, tell him we’ll pick him up inside a couple of hours or so.”
“I’ll see what he says,” I said and told Necessary that I’d ride to headquarters with him. He said he was leaving in fifteen minutes and I said that would be fine. I hung up the phone and turned toward Mugar who was at the door, his hand on the knob, a look of angry disbelief in his eyes.
“You’d do it, wouldn’t you?” he said.
“You can call Carmingler and he’ll have you out in an hour, but then we’d have you back in another hour. It can go on for quite a while. In and out two or three or four times a day. Of course, you could sue, couldn’t you?”
“You’ve had it, Dye. I swear you have.”
“Tell you what I’ll do,” I said. “I’ll give you an hour to get the first plane out of Swankerton. After that, well—”
Mugar shook his head slowly from side to side. “You are through, Dye. You just don’t know how through you are.”
“You are catching that plane, aren’t you?”
“Sure. Sure, I’m catching the plane, and when it lands and I get through doing what I’m going to do, maybe I’ll even have time to feel a little sorry for you. Maybe. But I don’t really think so.”
“You know,” I said in what I hoped was a thoughtful tone, “there is one thing you can do for me when you see Carmingler.”
“On top of everything else that I’m going to do,” he said, a little of his confidence coming back.
“That’s right. On top of everything else.”
“What?”
“Tell Carmingler I said that if he’s still set on it, and can’t spare the experienced help, he’d better come himself.”
“That’s all?” Mugar said.
“That’s all. You won’t forget, will you?”
“No,” he said, still keeping most of the bitterness out of his voice, “I won’t forget.”
“I didn’t think that you would.”
Chapter 34
The second thing that Homer Necessary did after he was sworn in as chief of police was to order a specially equipped Chrysler Imperial which had arrived only a few days before. It was black, not much longer than a pocket battleship, and had a hotted-up engine with a four-barrel carburetor to make it go fast. In its air-conditioned rear, where we now were, it had leather upholstery, a TV set, a telephone, a bar of sorts, an AM-FM radio, a police radio, and a sawed-off shotgun which went by the euphemism of riot weapon. Necessary’s driver was Sergeant Lester Krone, the sponsor of a local hot-rod club whose members called themselves the Leaping Lepers. Sergeant Krone was fond of the car’s red light and siren and used them at his discretion, which meant most of the time. Necessary didn’t seem to mind.
“What happened to your friend?” Necessary said.
“You mean ‘just a guy’?”
“Yeah.”
“He left town.”
Necessary grinned. “You roust him?”
“He might call it that.”
“Was he bad news?”
“Bad enough. I’ll tell you about it at noon when we meet with Orcutt and after I see your friend Mr. Lynch.”
Necessary pushed a button that rolled the glass up between us and Sergeant Krone. “Old Lynch is getting antsy.”
“I know,” I said. “He called you three times yesterday for a meeting. He wants to know what the hell you’re up to.”
“His weekly take’s down,” Necessary said and smiled comfortably.
“By about three-fourths, he claims.”
“That’s about right.”
“He’s getting pressure from New Orleans.”
“He’ll be getting some more after our meeting this morning.”
“More reorganization?” I said.
“The last one.”
“Who?”
“Henderson.”
“He’s vice squad,” I said.
“That’s right, he is, isn’t he?”
Necessary liked me to be present when, in his words, he “rattled the box and shook ‘em up.” The sessions never lasted more than twenty minutes, were highly educational, often emotional, and those who had been summoned often left white-faced and visibly shaken.
“New uniform?” I said.
Necessary looked down and ran his hand over the blue summerweight worsted uniform’s gold buttons. “Yeah, three of them came yesterday. What do you think?”