Ed Lacy - The Best That Ever Did It
“I know somebody who'd recognize Brown, could act as a bodyguard for you.”
“Who's that?”
“Danny Macci.”
“But he's blind!”
“That's why he'd know Brown's voice at once—swears he'd remember that twang any place. Look, with Danny beside you all the time—and he'd never be mistaken for a cop—he could shout a warning to the police the second Brown opens his mouth.”
“What makes you so sure these clowns are going to talk first? Hell, they don't want to chitchat with me. Might be only two sounds—the bang-bang of a gun and the plop of my dead body hitting the street.”
I shrugged. “I'm not selling you anything, Irv. Sure, that's a possibility. But this is the only way we can ever get these guys— if they are still in the country. But with Danny with you and a flock of cops ready to close in and shoot at a split second's notice, I think you're reasonably safe. Also, we'll give you a bulletproof vest...”
“Got any bulletproof heads!”
I tried to give it a long laugh. “Irv, would you take me for a cop?”
“Well—no. Something about you, you're too big—look too tacky, down at the heels.”
“Okay, you're a cabbie and I'm really a mechanic, and Danny, if they remember, is one of the boys at the bar. Suppose I tail along with you, and Danny—as our bloodhound? Buy that?”
He fooled with the few hairs on his head. “You guys are just trying to get me killed! All right, if I can have you and Danny with me, I'm in. At least I'll be surrounded by muscle.”
“I'll talk to Danny right now,” I said, getting up.
When we reached the street, Irv glanced around like a ham actor, muttered, “Haven't even started and I'm scared.”
“Relax.”
He took a deep breath. “That's the trouble—I might relax permanently.”
“Long as you can joke about it, you'll be okay. Where can I find you in an hour or so?”
“I'll be at the garage by noon. Not in the mood to push a hack today. Boy, this is how a bull's-eye must feel.”
“Stop it. Tell you a trade secret. A guy has to be damn good to hit anybody with a pistol, unless they're right on top of 'em.”
“Harris, you're the one making with the jokes. These guys have proved how damn good they are!”
“But they took Frank and Turner by surprise. This time they'll be the surprised ones,” I said, and the words suddenly hit my brain like a hammer. “I'll see you at the garage at noon. And whether you believe it or not, the cops really don't want you killed. The... eh... publicity would be bad for them.”
“That's a real comforting thought!” he said, getting into his cab. “Save those words for my tombstone!” He waved as he drove off. I stepped into the coffeepot, told Cy the office was his.
He made some corny crack, as usual, to Alma, and left. Alma gave me her best hard smile, as I asked for change of two bits, and asked where I'd been. “Busy, busy,” I said, stepping into the phone booth.
When I got Franzino, I told him, “Got an idea. The...”
“I wish I could say to hell with your ideas, but so far yours have been better than mine. Hear about this jerk, Spear?”
“Just left him. I think he'll play ball with us.” I told him about Danny and myself guarding Irv, and Franzino said, “I don't know about you—some guys assume any big slob must be a cop. But the blind man is a sweet touch. What kind of gun do you carry?”
“Gun? I don't have one.”
“Sure be some guard. If I get you one, know how to use it?”
“Was checked out on .45 automatic in the army.”
“Better learn—fast. Never know which way these guys will pump lead.”
“Hadn't considered that,” I said, wondering what I'd got myself into. “But this is the idea I called about. How does this sound for Turner's death? There were two guns involved in this. Turner was taken by surprise.”
There was a moment of silence over the phone. The booth was hot and I kept opening and closing the door, trying to make the air move. Franzino said, “Okay, quiz kid, what's the answer? I'm not sharp this morning—what the hell you talking about?”
“Turner, the ambitious cop, was shot in the back—never even went for his gun. Up to now we've been figuring on one guy, and the same gun, killing both men. We know Turner was in his car, watching Louise's room. Now suppose he sees Brown shoot Andersun, steps out of his car—but Smith might have been standing a dozen feet behind Turner. Probably as Turner went for his gun, Smith shot him in the back.”
“Well... Yeah, we might try that for size,” Franzino said, his voice polite. “Because the slug that took Turner was missing we have assumed there was only one guy, one gun—although I don't know why. Harris, you're going to force me to go to the movies again—you private eyes aren't as stupid as you look. But that's as good a theory as any we've dreamed up. But see this blind man. We need action now, not theories.”
“Thanks, I'll let you write a commendation for me to my correspondence course,” I said, as we both hung up. I kidded with Alma for a moment, and she asked when I'd have some more calls for her “sexy voice.” As I left she called out, “Be careful, Barney—I may try it out on you some day.”
At five minutes after eleven I parked in front of the Grand Cafe. Jimmy, the bartender, wrinkled his nose as I entered, as though he smelled something bad. Danny Macci had a can of beer before him, while at the other end of the bar, a hungover joker was trying to taper off with an early morning shot and talking to himself in a low, soothing voice.
Slapping Danny on the back, I said, “Howya, Danny? This is Barney Harris. Remember me, the...”
Wailing “You miserable bastard!” Danny showed me his beer-can-bending stunt again, only this time he bent the can over my head!
I vaguely knew I sat down on the floor, that blood was running all over my head and down my face—cool blood. My head was throbbing like a jet plane trying to take off.
From a million miles away I heard Jimmy shout, “Danny! Want me to lose my license? Leave him alone.... Danny! you already hurt the louse...”
My head finally worked itself loose and took off from my shoulders as I blacked out.
CHAPTER 7
I CAME TO, still sprawled out on the dirty floor, although I don't know where else I expected to be. I touched my wet face, got my hands into focus. I wasn't bleeding—Danny had clouted me with an almost full can of beer and the stuff was all over my head and shoulders. I had an acute headache and even my wild hair couldn't hide the not-so-graceful, and throbbing, lump on the right side of my noggin.
I thought about getting up, glanced around. A few morning street-corner characters were staring in from the doorway, amused. Danny Macci was sitting in a booth, waving his white cane like a baseball bat, as he cursed. Jimmy, who was standing over me, said, “Warning ya, Danny, one more rhubarb like this and I'll banish your ass from here—for good!”
“That what this was, a rhubarb?” I asked, getting to my feet. To my surprise I made it. I guess I can't take it—this one belt on the head had me weak as a sick cat, made my stomach do push-ups. “What's the matter with Danny?”
“He don't like you,” Jimmy said.
“You're kidding.” I walked over, stopped beyond the reach of his cane. “What's the beef, Danny?”
“You unwashed skunk, I'll break every bone in your thick head!”
Eyes are important in registering anger. A blind man can never look real steamed because his eyes are blanks. I said, “Guess you might bust my conk—in fact, you probably have. But why?”
Danny made some observations on the sex habits of my ancestors as he took a terrific swipe at me with his cane, almost busting it on the next booth. Jimmy came forward carefully, said, “Now Danny, goddamnit Danny, cut it out!” He turned to me. “Why don't you take a walk?”
“I'm only doing my job,” I said, starting the old oil. “Doing...”
“Do it someplace else,” the barkeep snapped.
“You must be tired of looking at your license. Remember, a cop has been killed.”
“You threatening me?”
Danny shrilled, “Let me get my mitts on him, Jimmy. I'll tear his heart out!”
He swung again with his cane and I stepped in, grabbed the back of his wrist. He was strong, but I had the grip, and when he started to move his left hand, I grabbed his shoulder muscles with my left and squeezed. “Danny, you damn near busted my head—at least tell me what the beef is about?”
“I'll...!”
I squeezed harder.
“I'm a... The one woman who would let a blind old man sleep with her, sometimes for free, you got to make trouble for. Now she's moving, won't open her door to nobody!”
“She was good to Danny,” Jimmy said solemnly.
“I didn't do a thing to Louise. Honest, Danny, it was the cops.”
“It was you, you lying bastard!” Danny yelled, straining to get out of my hands. “She told me.”
“I know how she feels, but she told you wrong. Danny, you and me, we're different from other guys. We're too strong to have to lie and cheat. I'm not bulling you. It wasn't me. It was the cops. And I can prove it.”
Danny turned his sightless face up at me. “How can you prove it?”
“Come up to the police station, I'll let you talk to the guy who put her away. Only don't swing on him. He'll even tell you I got Louise out of the can.”
“Bastard, you running me in?” Danny asked.
“Danny, musclemen are on the level. All I want to do is prove to you I didn't do her dirt. I've got to prove it because I have a job for you.”
“Louise claims... A job?”
“What kind of a job?” Jimmy asked suspiciously.
“A job requiring muscle, so that lets you out,” I told the bartender, and let go of Danny and stepped back. But the old man didn't try to cane me.
Danny stood up. “I'll go see this copper, just to find out if you're telling me the truth.”
“Fine. Then we'll talk about the job.”
Danny headed for the door, his cane out like a feeler. I followed and he asked, “What kind of work can I do?”
“Tell you later. Be a day or two's work. Ten bucks a day.”
“Ten dollars? Who am I working for?”
“Me.”
On the sidewalk, I took his hand but he said, “Keep your mitts off me. Keep talking, I'll follow you.”
“My car is over by the curb. We'll drive up to the station, then over lunch we'll talk about the job.”
“Why can't we talk about it now?”
“Because I have to be absolutely sure we trust each other,” I said, holding the door open. He got in and I shut the door, went around to the wheel side.
As I drove, Danny said, “If this is a trap, if you're jailing me, I'll break your neck.” Then he added in a sort of childish voice, “I haven't worked for... lot of years. Never begged though, either. When I first lost my sight, I traveled for a time with a crummy carnival, doing a lifting act. But they was always playing jokes on me, robbing me, so I quit. Ten bucks a day, you said?”
I nodded, then remembered he was blind, said, “Yeah.” The nodding didn't do the pain in my head any good. I parked in front of the police station, got out and opened the door for Danny, told him, “Let me take your hand, lot of steps here.”
Lieutenant Franzino wasn't in the best of moods. When I introduced Danny, and said he was considering working for us, Franzino said to the old man, “I've seen you around.”
“Whatcha doing, spying on me?”
“This is my precinct. It's my business to know the characters in it.”
I said quickly, “Mr. Macci wanted one thing straightened out. I was explaining to him that you decided to close up Louise.”
“That's right. I'm running her hips out of here,” Franzino said.
“Why?” Danny almost shouted. “She ain't hurting nobody.”
“Because she's a whore and whoring is against the law. Maybe it shouldn't be, but I don't make the laws—just enforce as many as I can. And I intend to run every whore I know of out of my district.”
“Wasn't you getting your lousy two-bit cut? I got a good mind to wring your goddamn neck,” Danny said, flexing his powerful arms. “And I can do it, too.”
Franzino leaned back in his chair, said coldly, “No you can't, because I have a badge that gives me the legal right to use a gun or blackjack. You create a disturbance here and I won't hesitate a second to split your hard head open, or shoot you. Do I make myself clear?”
Danny muttered, “Man gets little enough enjoyment out of life without some snooper...”
“Stop slobbering all over my office,” Franzino said, as if enjoying his own toughness. “If she gave you a dose you'd be the first one trying to kill her. As it is, she may be the cause of two murders.”
“Louise is a clean woman, a law-abiding good woman!” Danny snapped.
“You law-abiding citizens give me a pain in the ass,” Franzino told him. “You're always trying to see how many little laws you can break. Like smoking in the subways or littering the streets. When we come to you for help, you act like we were the crooks. Two of your fellow citizens have been murdered, and when we ask your help, you start sniveling about a whore. You and that other noble citizen, Irving Spear, make me want to puke. Crime isn't only our task—it's everybody's job. You don't want to help us, then stop wasting my time. Get the hell out of here!”
Before I could put in a word, Danny said, “You hide a big mouth behind that badge. Who doesn't want to help? What you talking about?”
“I haven't had time to tell Mr. Macci about our plan,” I said.
“You—you got time to listen to this slop about a hustler, and guzzle beer. Smell like a gutter, Harris.”
“Mr. Macci had to be convinced about certain things before he would discuss anything else. As it happens I haven't been drinking beer—I've been bathing in it.”
“What's all this jabber-jabber about?” Danny asked. “If you and this snotty-voiced cop want something of me, ask for it like men.”
So like men we told him what we wanted. Did he still feel positive he could recognize Brown's voice? Was he willing to take the chance, and the rest of it? He listened, his rough face even listening. Then he turned to me, “This the ten-bucks-a-day deal?”
