“No, I’m not.”
“Yes, you are.”
“It’s all fake,” Anne said. “I visit a remarkable magician known as Antoine. He operates a beauty salon and fender repair shop. He is responsible for the midnight of my hair and the ripe apple of my lips. He made me what I am today, and now you won’t love me anymore.” She brushed away an imaginary tear.
“I’d love you if you were bald and had green lips,” he said, hoping his voice sounded light enough.
“Goodness!” she said, and then she laughed suddenly, a rich, full laugh he enjoyed hearing. “I may very well be bald after a few more tinting sessions with Antoine.”
“May I keep the picture?” he asked.
“Certainly,” she said. “Why?”
“I’m going up to Vegas. I want to find your sister and Radner.”
“Then you’re serious about all this,” she said softly.
“Yes, I am. At least, until I’m convinced otherwise. Anne...”
“Yes?”
“It’s just a job. I...”
“I’m not really worried, you understand. I know you’re wrong about Alice. And Tony, too. So I won’t worry.”
“Good,” he said. “I hope I am wrong.”
“Will you call me when you get back?” she asked.
“Yes,” he said. “Definitely.”
“If I’m out when you call, you can try my next-door neighbor. Her name is Freida, she’ll take a message.” She scribbled the number on a sheet of paper. “You will call, won’t you, Milt?”
He covered her hand with his and said, “Try and stop me.”
He went to City Hall right after he left her. He checked on marriage certificates issued on January 6, and was not surprised to find that one had been issued to Anthony Louis Radner and Alice May Trimble. He left there and went directly to the airport, making a reservation on the next plane for Las Vegas. Then he headed back for his apartment to pick up his bag.
The door was locked, just as he’d left it.
He put his key into the lock, twisted it, and then swung the door wide.
“Close it,” MacGregor said.
He was sitting in the armchair to the left of the door. One hand rested across his wide middle and the other held the familiar .38, and this time it was pointed at Davis’s head. Davis closed the door, and MacGregor said, “Better lock it, Miltie.”
“You’re a bad penny, MacGregor,” Davis said, locking the door.
MacGregor chuckled. “Ain’t it the truth, Miltie?”
“Why are you back, MacGregor? Three strikes and I’m out, is that it?”
“Three...” MacGregor cut himself short, and then grinned broadly. “So you figured the mountain, huh, Miltie?”
“I figured it.”
“I wasn’t aiming at you, you know. I just wanted to scare you off. You don’t scare too easy, Miltie.”
“Who’s paying you, MacGregor?”
“Now, now,” MacGregor said chidingly, waving the gun like an extended forefinger. “That’s a secret now, ain’t it?” Davis watched the way MacGregor moved the gun, and wondered if he’d repeat the gesture again.
“So what do we do?” he asked.
“We take a little ride, Miltie.”
“Like in the movies, huh? Real melodrama.”
MacGregor scratched his head. “Is a pleasant little ride melodrama?”
“Come on, MacGregor, who hired you?” He poised himself on the balls of his feet, ready to jump the moment MacGregor started wagging the gun again. MacGregor’s hand did not move.
“Don’t let’s be silly, Miltie boy,” he said.
“Do you know why you were hired?”
“I was told to see that you dropped the case. That’s enough instructions for me.”
“Do you know that two hundred grand is involved? How much are you getting for handling the sloppy end of the stick?”
MacGregor raised his eyebrows and then nodded his head. “Two hundred grand, huh?”
“Sure. Do you know there’s a murder involved, MacGregor? Five murders, if you want to get technical. Do you know what it means to be an accessory after?”
“Can it, Davis. I’ve been in the game longer than you’re walking.”
“Then you know the score. And you know I can go down to. R and I, and identify you from a mug shot. Think about that, MacGregor. It adds up to rock-chopping.”
“Maybe you’ll never get to see a mug shot.”
“Maybe not. But that adds another murder to it. Are they paying you enough for a homicide rap?”
“Little Miltie, we’ve talked enough.”
“Maybe we haven’t talked enough yet. Maybe you don’t know that the Feds are in on this thing, and that the Army...”
“Oh, come on, Miltie. Come on now, boy. You’re reaching.”
“Am I? Check around, MacGregor. Find out what happens when sabotage is suspected, especially on a plane headed to pick up military personnel. Find out if the Feds aren’t on the scene. And find out what happens when a big-time fools with the government.”
“I never done a state pen,” MacGregor said, seemingly hurt. “Don’t call me a big-time.”
“Then why are you juggling a potato as hot as this one? Do you yearn for Quentin, MacGregor? Wise up, friend. You’ve been conned. The gravy is all on the other end of the line. You’re getting all the cold beans, and when it comes time to hang a frame, guess who’ll be it? Give a good guess, MacGregor.”
MacGregor said seriously, “You’re a fast talker.”
“What do you say, MacGregor? How do you feel, playing the boob in a big ante deal? How much are you getting?”
“Four G’s,” MacGregor said. “Plus.”
“Plus what?”
MacGregor smiled the age-old smile of a man who has known a woman and is reluctant to admit it. “Just plus,” he said.
“All right, keep the dough and forget you were hired. You’ve already had the ‘plus,’ and you can keep that as a memory.”
“I’ve only been paid half the dough,” MacGregor said.
“When’s the rest due?”
“When you drop the case.”
“I can’t match it, MacGregor, but I’ll give you a thou for your trouble. You’re getting off easy, believe me. If I don’t crack this, the Feds will, and then you’ll really be in hot water.”
“Yeah,” MacGregor said, nodding.
“Does that mean you’ll forget it?”
“Where’s the G-note?”
Davis reached for his wallet on the dresser.
“Who hired you, MacGregor?”
He looked up.
MacGregor’s smile had widened now.
“I’ll take it all, Miltie.”
“Huh?”
“All of it.” MacGregor waved the gun. “Everything in the wallet. Come on.”
“You are a jackass, aren’t you?” Davis said.
He fanned out the money in the wallet, and held it out to MacGregor. MacGregor reached for it, and Davis loosened his grip, and the bills began fluttering toward the floor. MacGregor grabbed for them with his free hand, turning sideways at the same time, taking the gun off Davis.
It had to be then, and it had to be right, because the talking game was over and MacGregor wasn’t buying anything.
Davis leaped, ramming his shoulder against the fat man’s chest. MacGregor staggered back, and then swung his arm around just as Davis’s fingers clamped on his wrist. They staggered across the room in a clumsy embrace, like partners at a dance school for beginners. Davis had both hands on MacGregor’s gun wrist now. They didn’t speak or curse. MacGregor grunted loudly each time he swung his arm, and Davis’s breath was audible as it rushed through his parted lips. He did not loosen his grip. He forced MacGregor across the room, and when the fat man’s back was against the wall Davis began methodically smashing the gun hand against the plaster.