“What, you figure she was their madam?”
He shrugged. “Of sorts, maybe. Maybe she was a referral service, if you will. But any way you look at it, she was making her living on her back.”
I couldn’t argue with him.
“Well, then,” I said, “you’re going to have a merry time sticking this on the Outfit.”
His expression darkened. “Why’s that?”
“If she wasn’t being tortured to make her talk, what does that leave? She was being made an example of, like you say. Or-she was tortured by somebody who wanted to see her suffer, for the sheer sweet pleasure of it. For revenge.”
“Yeah. So?”
“So what you got here is the torture slaying of a dead call girl who’s been seeing a lot of high-hats, and one of her tormenters, one of her slayers, seems to be a woman. Now, off the top of your head, what does that all add up to?”
He grunted. “Jealous wife.”
“You got it. See if the papers don’t land on that with both feet.”
“Maybe,” he said, giving me his best official look. “And we’ll pursue that avenue. I don’t rule anything out. You heard, when we came in, the downstairs neighbor say she saw a guy in the alley.” Around two-thirty, running, with fur coats in his arms, she’d said. “Well, there’s been a series of apartment fur thefts going on in Lakeview for the past three months. So I don’t rule that out either, though in my opinion the killer just grabbed the coats on the way out to make this look more like a robbery, not a mob hit. Nonetheless, I smell the Outfit all over this.”
I could only smell scorched flesh. My lunch was acting up again. Be a cop, a voice said.
“Somebody was looking for something,” I said, making myself get back into this on that level. “What?”
Shrug. “Jewels, maybe. Estelle was known to have ’em. That doesn’t rule out this being a hit; why shouldn’t an assassin pick up a little extra something in the bargain? At the same time confusing the police as to the motive.”
That made sense, but then, on cue, Sergeant Donahoe, a heavyset middle-aged detective with a basset-hound mug, came in from the other room with his hands full of obviously expensive jewelry, including a diamond ring and a glittering diamond bracelet.
“We found this in a baseboard hiding place,” Donahoe said, “in the living room.” His hound-dog expression made the news sound unintentionally woeful.
“So much for jewels,” I said.
“That just means the killers didn’t find the goddamn things,” Drury said, shrugging it off.
“Also,” Donahoe said, piling the jewels in one hand, reaching in his pocket with the other, “this was tucked away in there.” A little silver.25 automatic with a pearl handle.
Drury took the gun. “Didn’t do her much good hid away, did it?” Dropped it in his pocket.
“And there’s a sable coat in the front closet,” Donahoe said glumly, and went out.
“So much for fur robbery as a motive,” I said. “If they weren’t looking for furs or jewels, what’s left?”
“Money,” Drury said.
“A popular item,” I admitted. “But Estelle was known for socking her dough away, in banks, in safe deposit boxes. She was notorious for sponging off people; she rarely had a cent on her, or in her place.”
“There is a rumor,” Drury said carefully, and I had the feeling he had waited till we were alone to say this, “that a fund Nicky Dean was in charge of-something to do with ‘taxing’ the Stagehands Union members-was emptied just before he was sent up. Dean refuses to discuss it, but the estimate is somewhere in the million-dollar area.”
The infamous 2 percent income tax Montgomery had once told me about.
“Jesus.” I finished the scenario myself: “And, I suppose, rumor further has it that Estelle was entrusted with this dough? By and for Nicky, till he got out of stir?”
Drury nodded.
“Then this could have been anybody, Bill. Anybody who knew Estelle and knew about the million. They tortured her and she didn’t talk. She held on to her dough till the last. Which is like her, the greedy little bitch. Damn her!”
“Nate, I’m sorry I brought you in on this…”
“Shut up. Quit saying that.”
“Let me ask you something.”
“Ask.”
“Suppose I can prove Nitti was behind this. Not necessarily in court, ’cause God only knows if that’s even possible. You know the department’s record where solving gangland murders is concerned. But suppose I can prove to your satisfaction that Nitti did this. Would you tell what you know on the witness stand when the grand jury calls you?”
Estelle’s death in my nostrils, I said, “Yes.”
He grinned and shook my hand; his enthusiasm was not matched by anything of the kind from me. I was feeling weak. Be a cop, the voice said.
“What about those letters?” I heard myself say. Working by rote, now.
He went over and bent down at the dresser where the bundled letters lay. One of the bundles was already undone; he read a sample. Skimmed another, saying, “From some serviceman. Love letters. This one’s in answer to a letter of hers, so she was exchanging ’em with him. Pretty hot stuff. ‘If only I could see and fold you in my arms,’ ha. Hey, he’s pissed in this one-‘Damn your cruel heart.’ Jeez, you don’t think she was seeing some other guy besides him, do you? Heaven forbid. There’s no name on any of these that I can see, just signs his initials-A. D. Year of our Lord? Ha. Anyway, there’s a San Diego address for referral overseas. Well, we’ll track him down soon enough. Huh, and there’s a photo, too.” He held it up for me to see, a portrait of a young Marine in dress blues.
“Nate-what’s wrong? You’re white as a ghost.”
“Nothing. I think it’s time I got out of here, is all.”
I didn’t tell him it was a face I’d seen before. The last time had been in a shell hole on Guadalcanal.
D’Angelo.
She floated across the dance floor, which was her stage, which was hers alone, graceful as a ballet dancer, naked as the human id but considerably more controlled, a huge ostrich feather fan in either hand, first this fan and then that one, one or the other, strategically placed at all times, granting flashes of flesh at her whim, feathers swooping, fluttering, moving on the toes of her high-heeled pumps, blond hair stacked in curls upon an angelic countenance, no hint of the devil in her smile as her fleeting glimpses of nakedness turned the men in the house into peeping toms and the women into jealous janes.
The music, as usual, was classical-“Moonlight Sonata,” her theme song-filtered through the big-band sound of Pichel and Blank’s Orchestra, men in white jackets sitting on risers behind her, enjoying the uncensored rear view. The lighting was soft and blue, and from where I sat with Eliot, ringside at Rinella’s Brown Derby, at Monroe and Wabash, in “the heart of the Loop!” she didn’t look a day older than she had when I’d seen her at the World’s Fair almost ten years ago, cavorting with a “bubble,” a big balloon she’d temporarily traded in for her ostrich feathers. It had been the second year of the fair and a new gimmick was called for. Even beautiful naked blonde women had to keep up with the changing times. Only time wasn’t keeping up with Sally, apparently. She was eternally beautiful. Unlike Estelle Carey, fate had been kind. Fate and soft lighting.
And now she was reaching the climax of her act, the moment all had been waiting for, when she unashamedly threw up the feather fans and they loomed over her as she stood like the statue of Winged Victory, smiling, proud, one leg lifted gently, knee up, keeping one small region a secret, a secret she’d shared with me, but long ago. Her smile was regal, her head back, proud of her beauty, her body, her talent. The house went wild with applause.
The lights grew dim and the applause continued but when the lights came back up Sally was gone, and no amount of clapping could bring her back. Once she raised her fans and showed her all, there was no encore possible. For those eager enough for another glimpse of the goddess in the full-figured flesh, there were two more shows tonight. This had been the finale of the eight-thirty dinner show, and as the orchestra began playing schmaltzy dance music, “Serenade in Blue,” Eliot and I were working on our third after-dinner drink. Which was beer, as that and wine were the only options; distillers had been banned from producing drinking liquor since last October.