“Chicken feed!“ D’Angelo snorted. “I offered him five C‘s an‘ he got so cooperative he practically licked my hand.”
“What’s he supposed to do for it?”
“Get a good weenie-roast goin’ in this guy’s barn, make sure it goes up, stock an’ all.”
“When?”
“Tonight.” D’Angelo stared at her as she absorbed this information. Finally, he spoke again.
“Come on, Wilma, I been blabbing my head off an’ you been lapping it up an’ milking me for more. Now I know you well enough to know it ain’t just idle curiosity. Suppose you tell me what your angle is.”
Wilma thought a moment. “All right,” she said finally. “You’d have to know sooner or later anyway. You know the name of this farmer you’re doing a job on?”
“Sure. His name’s Mal— Well, I’ll be damned.” D’Angelo whistled. “I’d forgot. That’s your name, ain’t it. Wilma Malden, sure. It’s been so long it went clear outa my head. What’s he, your husband, or something?”
“My father.”
“Whaddaya know? Small world, ain’t it? Hell, I’m sorry, kid, but how could I have known?”
“You know now,” Wilma told him softly.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It’s supposed to mean you’ll get off my father’s back, that’s what.”
“I don’t know as I could do that even if I wanted to, Wilma. It’s up to the syndicate, not me. An’ much as I like you, kid, I ain’t about to buck them.”
“Not even for old times’ sake?” Wilma asked sarcastically.
D’Angelo shrugged. “You know better than that,” he told her.
“Yes, I do. So suppose I put it another way. Forget what close, dear, intimate friends we used to be and let’s look at it another way. I learned a lot while I was in New Orleans. And I learned even more in Miami. I know enough about the syndicate to cause them a lot of trouble if I wanted to tell what I knew in the right places. What do you think of that, Vito love?”
“I think you’re looking for a bellyful of slugs, that’s what I think.”
“Why, Vito honey, and you just got through telling me how everything’s run so smooth like a big business organization and how the syndicate tries to avoid killings. Remember? And now you’re saying they might have poor little me killed. Aren’t you ashamed?”
“It ain’t funny. I’m serious. You go around threatening to tell what you know an’ they’ll eliminate you like that.” He snapped his fingers. “I’m gonna do you a favor an’ pretend I never heard you.”
“Then I guess I’ll just have to repeat it.” Wi1ma’s voice was grim. “Either you lay off my father, or I’ll spill the beans.”
“Don’t be a damn fool, Wilma. Even if I agreed, they’d have somebody else down here to do the job in no time flat. An’ whoever they sent would probably take care of you first thing.”
“I figured they weren’t as lily-white as you were trying to paint them before, Vito, so I took a few precautions before I came here. I wrote it all down and I put it in a sealed envelope and then I sent the envelope to a lawyer friend of mine in Miami. Anything happens to me, he’ll send it on to the D.A. down there. Believe me, the syndicate does anything to me, the whole thing will blow up in their faces.” Wilma way lying. She’d done no such thing. She’d only just thought of the idea. But she figured she might still take this kind of precaution after she left Vito.
“You’re making a mistake, Wilma. Nobody bucks the syndicate and gets away with it.”
“I’ll take the chance. Will you?”
"What do you mean?"
"Just this. You’re already in hot Water with them from what you told me. If they find out how you shot your mouth off to me about the connection with Morton and the rest of it, they’re going to be pretty angry. And if I make trouble in New Orleans and Miami and they happen to remember I was once your girl, they’ll be even angrier. The way I see it, Vito, you’ve no choice but to play my way.”
“I don’t know, Wilma. One thing I learned, it’s to always look out for number one first. If your way’s best for me, I’ll go along. If not --” He shrugged. “I guess it depends,” he added, “on just what it is you want me to do.”
“Nothing. That’s all I want you to do. Nothing. Just don’t do anything to hurt my father and keep me posted on any other bright ideas Beau Barker comes up with. Okay?”
“Don’t you want me to call off Proctor before he burns down your father’s barn?”
“Nope. Just forget about him. I’ll take care of him my own way.” Wilma smiled a vicious little smile. “It will be my pleasure,” she added. “Just sit tight. I’ll be back to see you in a few days.” She blew him a mock kiss and left.
Before going back to town, Wilma stopped off to see Angus Morton. He was in the cabin he used as a rental office, feet propped up on the desk, shirt off with the ribs looking like they were about to poke through paintcoat-thin flesh. His eyes were bugging out as he read a little home-printed pornographic booklet he’d picked up from Joe Ambler the night before. The sound of Wilma’s voice made him jump guiltily.
“Hi, Angus,” she greeted him from the doorway. “Getting literary, I see.” Wilma had recognized the booklet as similar to the ones she’d once peddled for Ambler back in high school.
“Oh, hi, Wilma.” Guiltily, he jammed the booklet into a desk drawer and closed it. “What can I do for you?” He noticed that Wilma was standing in the open doorway so that the sunlight was streaming through the thin summer dress she wore. Angus stared. at her crotch greedily and licked his lips.
“No need to ask what I could do for you,” Wilma said sarcastically as she noticed the direction of his steady gaze. “But I’m not going to do it,” she added, “so you can just stop hoping.”
“Har-har! Wilma, you sure are a card. No matter what you want, it’s a mighty pleasure jus’ to look on you.”
“Relax, Angus. Flattery might get you everywhere if there were anywhere at all for you to get. But there isn’t, so let’s make this short and sweet. You’ve been working with Beau Barker against my father and I want you to stop.”
“Now, Wilma’ I ain’t been doin’ no such thing. Why would I wanna hurt your daddy?”
“Don’t bother denying it, Angus. I know you have. I even know there was talk of having you appointed to reassess his property so they could slap a nice, heavy new taxi on it. And I know you arranged with the syndicate to help Barker get my father. I know a lot about you, Angus. I know what kind of place you run here. I know who supplies you with the girls and dope you peddle and how. And if you don’t want me to tell what I know where it might do the most good, like the State Attorney General’s office, for instance—and you’ll notice I’m not talking about the local sheriff or cops because I know they’d tend to be rather lenient -- then you’ll just butt out of any plans Beau Barker has to hurt my father. Got it, Angus?”
“I got it,” he said sullenly.
“Then don’t forget it.” She turned on her heel. “Enjoy yourself reading,” she called back over her shoulder.
At the very time that Wilma was driving back from the Morton Motor Lodge, Don Corrigan was coming to a decision. He would have to tell Preston B. Dawes what he’d found out about Wilma. But even as he decided to do it right away, Don knew that he would hedge. He could tell Dawes that Wilma was really Ben Malden’s daughter and that she was undoubtedly spying on him, but he couldn’t tell Glory’s father the truth about the relationship between Wilma and his daughter. He just didn’t have it in him to hurt the older man like that. Don knocked on the door to Dawes’s office and entered. . . .
“Wilma you’re fired!” Dawes said it to her simply and directly, just as soon as he got home that evening. They were alone in the living room to which he’d summoned her, and now, having said it, Dawes turned to leave the room.