“So he's got a few muscles,” Ted Cuneo growled irritably. “He still leaves me with an itch. A guy as hairsprung as him-”
“Could get in trouble? The lieutenant maintains that Johnny and trouble are synonymous. Tell you something else — you know that room you just left upstairs? Johnny owns it.”
“Owns it? This is a hotel, man.”
“Regardless, he owns it. Lieutenant Dameron may have felt that Johnny lacked the proper respect for authority, but that bothered Willie Martin not at all. He and Johnny got along fine. Willie brought Johnny back here with him, stuck him in a uniform and let him make a job for himself running the night side. When Willie was in town they shared that room upstairs, otherwise it was Johnny's. A few months back before you came over to this precinct we hit a real twister here and ran up a bag of six bodies in five days. The heat from downtown was enough to fry us, but we were spinning our wheels completely until Johnny aged the lieutenant a few years by strong-arming a solution when he got mad at being pushed around. The kicker turned out to be that the whole circus had been steered here by Willie Martin to darn a hole in his financial sock. By the time Johnny found it out Willie had set a new record for the running broad jump from the twelfth floor. His will left the room and furnishings to Johnny in perpetuity, even if the hotel should be sold. The legal beagles ran in circles for weeks, but it stuck.”
Ted Cuneo snorted disgustedly. “He marry anyone in your family? You sound worse than Larsen here.”
“You didn't see it happen, Ted. I did. I don't have to like what he does to like the way he does it.”
“Ahhhh, the hell with it. Do I genuflect the next time I see him? The hell with it. Let's get to business. Mike, tell me A light came on in a mezzanine office to Johnny's left and distracted him. The shade on the front door came down abruptly, blotting out all but the faintest chinks of light. Public stenographer's office-Johnny looked at his watch. Mighty early for any activity over there. Soft-footedly he eased over toward the chink of light, at the same time trying to keep tuned in on the conversation below him.
“-they did work in the same public relations office?” Cuneo's voice sounded excited. Johnny halted. Who worked?
“That's right.” Mike Larsen's voice. “Over a year now.”
“Sounds like we should have been talking to you right from the beginning,” Cuneo said crisply. “So this Ellen Saxon worked with Barnes' wife? And Barnes goes upstairs for no reason he can give us and finds her body. Very cozy. You think he was doing the tumtiddling bit on his wife?”
“Vic? Vic Barnes? Man, not a chance. Didn't you talk to him?”
“Granted he don't look it; they fool you. Why did he go up there? And why won't he talk about it?”
Mike Larsen's tone was thoughtful. “It's just possible he might think his wife is somehow concerned. Being as how he thinks the sun rises and sets for the sole benefit of Lorraine, if he thought he could save her anything you might have a little trouble with him.”
“We're having a little trouble with him.” Cuneo's voice was sharp. “I have a hunch you're right. Jimmy, what'd she sound like when you talked to her?”
“Talked to her?” Mike's voice broke in. “When did you talk to her?”
“I went over there.” Jimmy Rogers' voice was quiet, but Mike Larsen sounded as if he were having difficulty with his breathing.
“In the middle of the night you went over there? And told her that her husband was in the sneezer for being found in the hotel room of a dead woman who had been her friend? Excuse me. Remind me to cross the street the next time I see you guys coming.”
“Don't be such a rose, Mike.” Irritation was back in Ted Cuneo's voice. “These people are suspects. You think she was running around on her husband?”
“Now wait a minute. I didn't say that.”
“Always the gentleman, eh, Mike?”
“Don't you put words in my mouth, Ted. These people are friends of mine. You go paddle your own canoe. You boys play too rough. I'm through.”
“Now wait a minute, Mike-”
Johnny had cautiously resumed his interrupted progress toward the public stenographer's office. He found that even with the shade drawn he could see in through the eight-inch clearance on either side, but what he saw disappointed him. He plainly saw Ed Russo taking a long drink from an up-tilted whisky bottle, and he would much rather have seen Ed Russo doing something-anything at all-which would have permitted Johnny to lower a little weight on him.
Johnny and Ed Russo had hung up a time or two. Verbally. To Johnny's way of thinking, Ed Russo was a man a little bit too impressed with a sense of his own importance. Johnny had often wondered how he and the blonde in the office with him could take a living out of the transient business in a hotel this size, but he conceded that that was their problem. He conceded, too, that it would be difficult to make anything out of Ed Russo taking a drink in his own office, regardless of the hour. He edged back to the front of the balcony.
“-know that Johnny had been married to this girl, Mike?” Detective Rogers sounded quite casual.
“Johnny?” Mike Larsen sounded strangled. “You're crazy!”
“Right from the horse's mouth, Mike. Why should it surprise you so much?”
“Damned if I know, to tell you the truth,” Mike admitted after a moment. “Except that I thought I knew Johnny rather well, and I never heard him say a word-”
“The reason I ask is because upstairs he sounded a little bit as though he could be lining up a vendetta for himself. We wouldn't like to see that, Mike. You could do him a favor by warning him off the grass.”
Mike snorted. “Joe Dameron could tell you something about warning Johnny off the grass.”
“We can't use any help. Or any hindrance. Tell him.”
“I'll tell him, and a fat lot of good it will do you.”
“Tell him, and let us worry about the good.” Footsteps scuffed on the marble floor below; Johnny waited a moment until he was sure they had gone, then descended the stairs into the lobby. Mike Larsen was standing looking thoughtfully out into the foyer after the departed detectives. He turned at the sound of Johnny's approach. “Well… speak of the devil-”
“I just heard you speakin' of him.” Mike's eyes-cat's eyes, curiously flecked with yellow-went aloft. “Yeah. I was up there. Thanks for the testimonial.”
“I'll send you a bill. If you heard it all I can save a little breath.”
“You can save a lot of breath.”
Mike smiled. “Old head-down Johnny.” The smile died. “How come I never heard anything before about you and Ellen?”
“It never seemed to come up.”
“Yeah,” Mike Larsen said drily. “I can see that. Well, where do we go from here?”
“You think it's too early to call Lorraine? Vic would want one of us to go downtown with her. That Cuneo is all wound up to give her a hard time.”
Mike was looking at him curiously. “You think that's a good move? For you to go down there, I mean? You'd be kind of rubbing yourself in Cuneo's nose, wouldn't you? And don't worry about Lorraine; she's no violet. She'll give Cuneo a little better than he's expecting.”
“It's Vic I'm thinking of, Mike. He'd expect us to do it.”
“Okay,” Mike shrugged. “Go ahead and call her; she won't be asleep. I'll pick up a lawyer friend of mine and meet you down there.”
Johnny leaned over the registration desk and pulled the front office phone toward himself. “Sally? Ring Vic's place for me, huh?” He twisted the cord in his hand. “Lorraine? Johnny Killain. I'd like to go downtown with you this morning when you go.”
“I think I'd like that, Johnny.” No hysterics here-a cool, poised voice. “About nine?”
“I'll be ready.”
Mike Larsen nodded as Johnny hung up. “I'll see you down there. And don't you go redheaded on me; I've only got one lawyer friend. And never mind looking at me like the great stone face. Some day I'm going to find something a little thicker than your skull, and when I do the metallurgists are going to beat a path to my door.” He stalked out of the lobby, a big man, moving easily.