Shakedown (7 page)

I shaved while Josie did the dishes. We had the bed up and Josie was dressed in the cotton dress again, looking through a magazine, when Jean came. I’d briefed Josie about Jean and told her not to say anything about her staying here, but I might have saved my breath.

Jean took one look at the place and said, “Clean, isn’t it?” and looked at Josie.

Josie flushed.

Jean’s face was stiff as I introduced them. She had a cardboard suit box under her arm and she set it down before looking around the room again.

The bathroom door was open and Josie’s robe was hanging on it. Jean took a deep breath and faced me. “What’s that smell in the air?”

“My pine toilet water. Why?”

“Just wondered.” She went over to run a finger along the slats in a Venetian blind. She looked at the floor in the kitchenette.

“For Christ’s sakes,” I said, “cut out the little theater. Josie is the girl Deutscher called dead. I think Deutscher’s after her. She has to hide some place. That’s why I’m trying to get her out of town on a job.”

“Oh,” Jean said and stopped short, looking between us. Then she looked at me wonderingly. “Deutscher is quite a liar, isn’t he?”

“So it seems. He also wanted Josie to play house. He suggested she might have to go to jail if she didn’t.”

“Oh.” Humble, Jean looked now, softer. “Joe, you can kiss me now.”

“You haven’t earned it yet,” I told her. “Let’s see the clothes.”

“Clothes? Are you crazy? This girl is twenty pounds heavier than Willi. This girl has a feminine figure.”

“Well, how about some of yours then?”

“Joe, I’m at least three inches taller than Josie. But don’t worry about clothes. Josie and I will take care of that, won’t we?”

They were both smiling now, buddies, two of a kind, planning the bright feathers they were going to buy. Josie would pay her back, as soon as she got the job, she promised.

Then Jean said, “Josie, do you want to wait for me in the car? The Chrysler out in front. I’ve some business with Joe.”

Josie gave with the meaningful smile before going out.

Jean said quietly, “Joe, that girl did stay here last night, didn’t she?”

I nodded. “But if she slept with me, I didn’t know it. You’ve got me numb, lady. And remember, Josie’s been working in a cheap house in Santa Monica. I’m no lily maybe, but that’s reaching down just a bit too much for me. I can do better.”

“All right. We won’t talk about that. But why did Deutscher lie about her?”

“Maybe he didn’t know he was lying. Some quack doctor friend of Josie’s told Deutscher that to get Deutscher off the girl’s neck. Deutscher hates to pay for anything.”

Jean was silent a second. “I—don’t trust him.”

“I don’t either. I’d just as soon see him out of the deal but he knows about it now, and he’d run to the law if we cut him out. He’d queer us.”

“We’ll have to think of something.”

I already had, but it wasn’t anything I was going to tell her. I said, “How’s Willi this morning? How’s her attitude?”

“Fine. She hasn’t even met you and she hates you.” Jean smiled. “Though I must admit you’re an easy man to hate.”

“They’re all easy to hate for Willi. You can kiss me now.”

She lifted her lips and I pulled her in where I could feel the firm warmth of her perfect body. I held her like that until the trembling started.

Then I said, “Business before pleasure. Josie is waiting.”

She took a deep breath, studying me. “You’ll pay for that, iron man. I’ll have you crawling before I’m through with you.” She smiled.

“I’ll crawl. You’re worth it.”

She flicked at my nose with a forefinger. “See you later.”

I watched her walk down to the car and get in. Then I went over to put some records on the player and into the kitchen to mix a drink. Charles Adam Roland might be too smooth for me and Deutscher too tricky, but Jean was the key card in this game. And I held her, I was sure.

I went back to the window with my drink and was still standing there, five minutes later, when the Department car stopped in front. I saw the man getting out from behind the wheel but I couldn’t see his face. I didn’t wait to check it.

I took the box Jean had left on the davenport and shoved it onto a high shelf in my service porch. I checked for any signs of Josie’s occupancy, but there was none beyond the cleanliness of the apartment.

The chime sounded, and I went to the door. The man who stood on the concrete stoop that served as a porch was a bit shorter than I was but just as broad. My friend, Sergeant Manuel Rodriguez.

“Come in, Manny,” I said. “Have a drink.”

“Not this morning.” His brown eyes were mean, tortured. “I checked Deutscher and he sent me to that quack. And I checked the quack.”

“Come in,” I said again. “The neighbors will think I’m being run in.”

He came in and closed the door, but advanced no further into the room. “Where’s Josie?”

“How the hell should I know?”

“Don’t give me that. You worked with Deutscher on that Condor business. I can’t prove you paid Josie to lie but I’m damned sure of it. Using a girl like Josie to get a bastard like Rickett off the hook! And you’d be the boy who’d want her out of sight. Where is she?”

“I haven’t the faintest damned idea, Manny. I know you think a lot of the girl, but she just was a whore. Why worry about her?”

“Never mind the why. I could beat it out of you, you know, Puma. I haven’t got enough to run you in but I could work it out of you.”

“Easy, boy,” I said. “You’re not that big. Without the badge, you’re not big at all, Manny. Run me in or get the hell out of here,
Cop.”

“We’ll forget I’m a cop,” he said. And he threw the right hand at my chin.

S
TRICTLY A SUCKER PUNCH
, but I was available. His fist missed the button but caught me on the mouth, and I went back a step, tasting blood. And then I lost my sense.

I caught him with a left hand, high on the head, and felt a knuckle go. The left would be no good for this one. I brought the right in from the mezzanine while he was still in that second of unthinking rage.

I put all my two hundred and thirty pounds into that right hand and my feet were flat beneath me. It caught him a shade above the button, but his head twisted with the force of it and crashed into the door jamb. His knees folded and he started to crumple. Just for insurance, I caught him with a button shot as he went down.

Still as death, he lay, crowding the door. I looked down at him, cursing myself. Hitting a cop; I’d live to regret it. Strangle your mother, butcher your wife, burn up your kids—a smart lawyer will get you off with ninety days. But hit a cop and know you’ll never see a courtroom. You might pray to see one, but they wouldn’t be that dumb. Things can go wrong and then justice might mistakenly be dispensed in a courtroom. Especially if there’s a jury.

I knelt, after a few seconds, and took his gun from the shoulder holster. I stripped the cartridges from it and put the gun back into the holster. I put the cartridges into his jacket pocket.

Then I got my .38 from the bureau in the closet and put it in my pocket before going to the phone and calling McGill. The knuckle throbbed like a toothache. Blood was dripping off my chin from my torn lip as I waited to get through to McGill.

His gruff voice came on. “Captain McGill speaking.”

“Joe Puma, Captain. Sergeant Rodriguez is here. He threatened me. He hit me. I hit him back. He accused me of running some Mexican whore out of town, some girl he sails for I guess.”

“Put Sergeant Rodriguez on. I want his story.”

“He’s still out, Captain.”

“Well, damn it, do something about it. You phoned me before you took care of an unconscious man?”

“I figured I might not be alive to phone you after he was conscious again, Captain.”

“Don’t you worry about that, Puma. We don’t operate that way. Bring him around and have him phone me.”

“Yes, sir,” I said.

I hung up as Rodriguez started to moan. Then he sat up and put his head forward into his hands, rotating his neck, breathing harshly. I had my hand on the .38 in my pocket. I still stood near the phone.

He swore softly in Spanish. He looked up at me. “This I won’t forget, you son-of-a-bitch.”

Nothing from me.

He put the flat of one hand on the floor and started to get up, but some of the rattles must have come to his brain with the movement. He sat back again, breathing heavily, blinking at me.

“Your head hit the door jamb,” I explained. “Captain McGill wants you to phone him as soon as you’re able to.”

He was rubbing the back of his neck, digging at it. He took a deep intake of breath and held it and put a hand down to lift himself up.

This time he made it and stood there, his back supported by the door. He expelled the breath he’d been holding.

“The captain’s waiting for your call, I said quietly.

“I’ll call him. I wouldn’t use your damned phone. We’ll meet again, you and I, Joe. I was the only friend you had down at headquarters and you’re going to regret this.”

I said nothing. I could see there was still some rubber in his legs and he was stalling for a dignified exit. Then, finally, his hand fumbled for the door knob.

When the door closed behind him, I took my hand from the .38 and it was wet with sweat. There was a little rubber in my own legs, but I didn’t sit down. I went over to where I could watch him through the blinds. My stomach rumbled and nausea crowded almost to my chest. Even in the event McGill would back me up, Manny would spread the word among his Department buddies and they’d remember it if the opportunity ever came.

But even that was less important than having trouble with the law at this time. Now, when I seemed to be on fair terms with McGill, and with the big pitch coming up, I should have been walking on eggs.

Minutes dragged by and Manny still sat in the car. My hand throbbed and my lip was puffing and two teeth were loose, but I stood there, waiting for him to drive away.

Blue showed in the bulged, taut flesh between my first and second knuckles. The ache was spreading through my whole forearm. Sweat ran down my legs, the back of my neck, my sides.

The ringing of the phone startled me as the Department car in front pulled away.

It was McGill. “Is Rodriguez still out?”

“No, Captain, he’s left. He refused to use my phone.”

“Oh.” A pause. “I suppose you’ll be phoning the
Daily News
about this example of police brutality?”

“I’m a
Times
reader myself, Captain. And I never try to make trouble.”

“Speak plainer, Puma.”

“I’ve no complaint,” I said. “I’m sorry I hit him back.”

“What are you mumbling about?”

“I’m trying to talk plain. But he caught me in the mouth. I’ve some loose teeth and a lip like a watermelon, Captain.”

“I see. About that girl, that Gonzales it was, eh?”

“Right.”

“Well, he’ll be disciplined. Don’t worry about that.”

“Yes, sir,” I said.

“Don’t you worry about a damned thing,” he said and hung up.

The
News
had been screaming about police brutality for a month now, and the Department was getting sensitive. If I had to hit a cop, I’d picked about the best time possible.

I went into the bathroom and filled the basin with hot water and shoved the hand into it. That made it worse. Damn it, was it supposed to be cold water for a thing like this? In the mirror over the sink, my shiny face stared sickly back at me. There was dried blood all over my chin, and the tight skin of the swollen lip looked ready to split with the tension.

I washed out my mouth with warm water and ran a wet washcloth gingerly over the bloody lip and chin. I opened the window to get some fresh air and saw the pretty, pretty geraniums. To hell with this damn geranium jungle. To hell with this angle-shooting, double-crossing four hundred and fifty square miles of false front. Once I got my hands on the boodle. It would never see me again.

I stunk. The sweat had been pouring off me and my clothes were heavy with it. I peeled down and climbed into the shower.

Easy does it, Joe. Temper will get you nowhere with these operators. Your old man was always burning about something and remember what happened to him. I kept telling myself: I’d play it cold and play it smart and play it alone. I still held the big cards.

I rubbed myself down with one hand, dressed with one hand, and lay on the davenport in the living room and tried to calm down.

I was nursing a cup of lukewarm coffee when they came back, loaded with packages, happy and noisy.

Jean saw my lip first and stopped where she stood. “What happened?”

“I had a visit from a cop.”

Both of them stared at me without saying a word. I said to Josie, “It was your friend. It was Manny. He wants to put you away.”

Her big eyes were frightened. “He knows I’m here?”

“No, but he knows you’re not dead. He thought I might know where you were. Because I wouldn’t tell him, he did this to me.” I lifted my swollen hand. “I tried to hit him back. All I hit was the door jamb.”

Jean came over to study the blue-brown streak between the knuckles. “Oh—Joe—” She ran her finger-tips lightly over the swollen lip. “Joe—baby—”

Josie said quietly, “Manuel hates gringos.”

“It’s you he was after, Josie, not me. With Target dead, you’re all he has left. He means to put you away for a long time.”

Jean said, “Nobody’s going to bother Josie. Not while you and I can protect her.”

“That’s right,” I said. “You trust us, don’t you, Josie?”

She nodded.

“Well,” Jean said, “to hell with Manny, whoever he is. Baby, I’m going to soak that hand. And Josie, you put on the gray-green dress. I want Joe to see it.”

Jean went into the kitchen to get some hot water while Josie went into the bathroom to dress. Miss Roland was playing a new role, mistress of the household.

The dress was of some coarse, linen-like material, giving Josie the look of a sweet young peasant who’d gone to an exclusive girl’s school. My hand was in the basin of hot water and I lay on the couch. Jean sat on the edge of it, holding my good hand.