“You know where he’s been staying?”
“Yes.” I gave him the address. I could hear his pencil scribbling it frantically down.
“Why didn’t you tell me this before, Heller?”
“It’s like I been telling you — I didn’t want to finger the guy because I wasn’t sure he really was Dillinger. I was afraid you guys might blast some poor civilian into Kingdom Come because he had two arms and legs and eyes, just like Johnny.”
“Well, this is Dillinger all right.”
“You won’t get any argument from me on that score. Otherwise I don’t know why Frank Nitti would want him dead.”
Cowley didn’t like being reminded of Nitti’s role in this; I could tell from the silence over the wire.
Then he said, “We’re waiting for a call from Mrs. Sage, any minute now, at which point we’ll go to the Marbro. There are continuous showings all day, and since this plan is in motion already, and we haven’t the manpower to spare for a spur-of-the-moment effort, we won’t be following up on this address, not at this time.”
“Use your own judgment.”
“Our plan of action for the Marbro is well under way. We sent agents over yesterday evening and we’ve made maps covering exits and entrances, alleys and fire escapes, and surrounding streets. We’re ready to put the plan into play when Mrs. Sage calls.”
“Why don’t you just go over to Pine Grove and see if Johnny’s home? Or why not just move into Anna Sage’s apartment till he shows up?”
Silence for a moment; embarrassed silence, I thought.
“Heller, uh... this is Chief Purvis’ plan and, uh, Mr. Hoover has approved it. I’ll make them both aware of the Pine Grove situation, and perhaps they’ll act on it. But I believe we’ll be following through with the Purvis plan...”
“What plan?”
“We’ll have agents on the fire exits and on either side of the front entrance. Chief Purvis will be on one side, Zarkovich on the other.”
That sounded like a cross fire to me.
“Why them?” I said. “I thought you told me you were going to see to it that Dillinger was captured, not shot.”
“Heller, last night when we met with Mrs. Sage, it was under what you might call cloak-and-dagger conditions. We picked her up on the North Side, drove a ways to a secluded spot along the lake, and I was with Captain O’Neill in one car, while Chief Purvis and Sergeant Zarkovich — and Mrs. Sage — were in the other.”
“What does that have to do with my question?”
“Simply that only Chief Purvis and Sergeant Zarkovich know Mrs. Sage well enough to recognize her... I wasn’t in the car with her.”
“Oh, for Christ’s sake. Have you considered the crowd you’re going to be dealing with at that theater? With this heat wave, everybody and his duck is going to the movies to cool off! If you have to shoot it out, you’re not going to get just Dillinger — you’ll probably bag a grandmother and a ten-year-old or two.”
“Heller, I’m going to be there, and I’ll control the situation myself. You have my word on that.”
“I’m not your goddamn conscience, Cowley. Do what you want.”
“Mr. Heller. If you’ll excuse me... I have to attend a briefing.”
“What, is Little Mel going to explain how he plans to fuck up even worse than Little Bohemia?”
“I don’t appreciate your language, Mr. Heller. It so happens I’m a good Mormon—”
“I don’t care if you’re a bad one. Melvin Purvis is a fuck-up in any religion.”
Cowley cleared his throat. “Sergeant Zarkovich is about to give us a detailed description of Dillinger, now that his appearance has been altered by plastic surgery.”
“Maybe Zarkovich can have his own plastic surgeons explain that: those ‘doctors’ from East Chicago who operated on me with a rubber hose.”
Short pause. “I don’t believe that to be true.”
“Sure you do.”
“I’ve got to go, Heller. Are you, uh, feeling any better?”
“A little, thanks.”
“Get some rest, why don’t you? Leave the police work to us.”
“Speaking of police work, how the hell did you get Captain Stege to go along with this cockeyed plan?”
Silence again.
“Cowley?”
“We see no reason to involve the Chicago police.”
“No reason to involve the Chicago police? In the capture of John Dillinger, in Chicago? Novel approach, Cowley. How’d you arrive at this?”
“Too many crooked cops,” he said, and didn’t sound too convinced himself. “Don’t want somebody on the inside to tip Dillinger off.”
“Oh, don’t worry about that, Cowley.”
“Why not?”
“If he heard about your plan, he wouldn’t believe it.”
Silence; then a grunt.
I grunted back and hung up.
I felt Sally’s cool hand on my shoulder and I glanced back at her.
“It’s going to happen tonight?” she said.
“I think so.”
“And it’s really Dillinger?”
“It’s really Dillinger.”
“Come to bed.”
“I don’t know if I can sleep anymore.”
“Who said anything about sleep?”
Well, I was definitely feeling better; but the effort was enough to tire me out, and I fell asleep again. By the time I woke it was getting dark out.
“What time is it?”
Sally, rousing herself beside me, looked over at her clock. “A little after six.”
“I’m sleeping my life away.”
“You’re just recuperating. Nothing to feel guilty about.”
“Who’s feeling guilty? Say, don’t you have a show tonight?”
“Yeah — gotta leave in an hour or so.”
I threw the covers off. “Let’s go in the other room and listen to the radio till then.”
We sat in the living room and listened to WGN, which was broadcast out of this very hotel; Wayne King the Waltz King bored us till the news came on. The hot spell, and the deaths by heat prostration, was the big story.
“When did you change your mind?” Sally said.
“About what?”
“This guy not being Dillinger. Didn’t you think it wasn’t Dillinger, at first?”
I shrugged. “I just wasn’t sure. He looked a little like Dillinger. But not exactly like him.”
“Then why do you now think this is Dillinger?”
“Because Frank Nitti wants him dead.”
“I thought you said Dillinger and the Boys were friendly.”
“Well, they used to be, before Dillinger’s fun and games started bringing the heat down on ’em.”
“Would they kill a friend?”
“Anytime, sugar.”
“But why would his own lawyer betray him?”
“Piquett? Money. Fear of reprisal from his other, more powerful client... those Boys you mentioned.”
“It seems to me the lawyer and the Boys might try to find a way to get rid of Dillinger without killing him. Like shipping him off to Mexico or something.”
“No, honey, he’s just too famous for that. As long as he’s alive, they’d keep looking for...”
I thought a minute.
Sally said, “Something wrong?”
I said, “Don’t you get tired of being smarter than me?” and got up. Went back into the bedroom and dressed.
She stood in the doorway and watched me. She was still in the lounging pajamas, and lounged against the door.
“What did I say?” she asked.
“You said this guy might not be Dillinger,” I said.
“And?”
“And he might not be.”
I kissed her on the cheek and left, moving faster than the pain.