"Related to the Bannerman family locally?" He held out a pack of butts and I shook my head.
"In a way. I'm a bastard." His eyes jumped up. "A real one . . . born out of wedlock and all that crap."
He sucked on his cigarette. "Yeah, I've heard that story. Now, what can I do for you?"
"I've recognized two Chicago hoodlums in this town, Lieutenant. One is Popeye Gage and the other Carl Matteau."
Travers watched me, swung slowly in his chair a few times and said, "I know they're here, but how did you recognize them, Mr. Bannerman?"
I had to grin. "Got in a little deal in Chicago once and they were pointed out as Syndicate men. They both have records and I thought you might like to know about it."
"Uh-huh." He took another big drag on the butt and laid it down. "We appreciate your being civic-minded, but there's nothing we can do. Is there a complaint you'd like to lodge?"
"Nope, but since I'm considering relocating back here I don't want any Syndicate people moving in on any business I have in mind."
"Then don't worry about it, Mr. Bannerman. Unfortunately, in any state that has legalized gambling, there is a certain amount of outside interference and an influx of off-color characters. In this case, Matteau is clean and has applied for a gambling license although his location is not specified. Knowing local politics, I'd say he'll have it accepted. Nevertheless, he'll be well investigated and will comply with all state and local laws."
I eased out of the chair and said, "Thanks, Lieutenant. It's nice to know we're all safe from the criminal element."
For some reason he gave me a funny look, his eyes slitted almost shut and grinned right across his face. "It's nice to be appreciated, Mr. Bastard Bannerman."
I laughed at him, threw a wave and went back to my car. Fifteen minutes later I parked in the rear of the Bannerman Building on Main Street and took the elevator up to Rudy's office where the receptionist told me she was sorry, but nobody could see Mr. Bannerman without an appointment.
When I said I was Cat Bannerman and she had no choice she reached for the intercom until I switched it off and she took one look at my face and thought it better to head for the ladies' room.
My chubby cousin had a nice setup. All the accoutrements for the idle rich. A mahogany desk, antique furniture, a well organized bar, golf clubs stacked in the corner with parlor-putting devices in a rack on the wall, a couch under a row of book shelves, a stereo hi-fi set and TV built into the walls and that was the order of business.
Except for Rudy Bannerman. He was stretched out on the couch with a wet towel across his forehead and when he saw me he pulled the towel off and sat up with an expression of pure fear on his face.
"Hello, Cousin," I said. I toed a chair in close to the couch and sat down. "You're shook, cousin. You're thinking of what it feels to be a killer. You're going through the pain of relief because they finally caught up with Guy Sanders."
"Cat . . ." He licked his lips nervously.
"I'll tell you, cousin, but first I want some answers. Talk back or hand me any crap and I'll slap you silly. We're not kids anymore. You're not a few years older and twenty pounds heavier where it counts. Now you're older and a pig and I can tear your ears off."
He couldn't take it. He flopped back on the couch reaching for the towel. I said, "You had a picture of Irish Maloney in your room. Where did you get it?"
"I . . . from the display at the Club."
"Why?"
He came up from the couch, his face livid. "I don't have to put up with this! I'm going to call the police. I'm . . ."
"Knock it off."
Rudy looked like he was going to have some kind of attack. He came apart in little pieces until his round body began to heave with jerky sobs and once again he went back into the contour of the couch and stayed there.
"I asked you a question. If you want the police, they can ask it."
"She . . . was nice."
"How often did you see her?"
"She didn't want to see me. I was a Bannerman and that tramp . . ."
"How often, Rudy?"
"A . . . few times, that's all. She . . . she didn't like me."
"I wonder why."
"She didn't have to say the things she did."
"How did you kill him, Rudy?"
His head rolled toward the wall. "I don't remember. I was . . . drunk. Sick."
"When did they put the bite on you?"
"Who?"
"Gage and Matteau. When did they make their offer?" I asked him.
"Two days later. They . . . went to father. He had Vance see them. There was nothing we could do. Nothing at all." His voice trailed off to a whisper.
"When do they want the dough, Rudy?"
He was on his side now, not able to look at me at all. He was like a baby in bed, seeking the comfort of crib and covers. "Saturday," he got out.
Three days from now. To get a million bucks up meant a lot of converting and it wasn't going to be easy and here was this slob sitting on his tail crying. Whatever stocks and properties were going into the pot for this little venture must be damn negotiable to be taken so lightly. In this day of taxes and paperwork a million bucks to line a hood's pockets wasn't easy to lay hold of. Taxes alone on that kind of loot would be enormous.
"Who's handling the arrangements, Rudy?"
"Vance . . . he's doing everything."
"Why him?"
"Father is . . . sick. He gave Vance our power of attorney."
I climbed out of the chair and started towards the door. This time Rudy turned over when he heard me leaving. The pathos on his face was disgusting. "What're you . . . going to do, Cat?"
"I don't know," I said. "Maybe I'll turn you in and watch you burn."
Petey Salvo lived in the house he had been born in. There was a kid in a carriage, a couple more under school age tearing the flowerbeds up and a twelve-year-old boy sick in bed with a cold. The others were in their classrooms and Petey was trying to grab a bite and argue with his wife at the same time.
At least I got him off the hook in a hurry. A Bannerman coming to visit the Salvos was the biggest day in her life and when he introduced me the busty doll in the pink housecoat with a headful of curlers almost broke a track record getting into the bedroom to get herself straightened out and when she came back she looked at her husband with a totally different look in her eyes and I knew from then on things were going to be different around there. Petey caught the bit too and winked at me over his coffee cup and told her to blow with a voice of authority and like a dutiful wife she left bowing and scraping like I was the baron of Bannerman Estates. Luckily, he didn't mention I was the bastard one.
He shoved some biscuits my way and I buttered up. "How're your contacts around town, Petey?"
"Like what?"
"Two hoods are in from Chi. I want them located." I gave him their names and descriptions and he took them down in his head.
"No trouble. Maybe need a day."
"Too long."
"So I put out the word and we grab 'em. These the same ones hit you in the motel?"
"That's right."
"I thought so. I was wondering when you was gonna move in. You never let yourself get took before."
"I had a reason, Petey."
"Figured that too. How do you want to work it?"
"Just get 'em spotted. I'll do the rest."
"Like hell, Cat. If this ties in with Chuck I want part of it."
"You'll get cut in, buddy. I have a feeling I'm going to need you."