Damn it! I should have kept my hands to myself, but when Penny tore into old Rudy Max and broke him up for not paying protection money to operate a news stand I couldn’t help myself. I broke his jaw and four ribs and left him in a mess of his own blood on the side walk, not giving a damn how big he or his brothers were. Two of his men were right there when it happened and neither of them had the guts to go for a rod because they knew I had a blaster in my belt and would chop them down the second they moved. They had seen it happen before. No, they could wait. Big brother Step would take care of it if Penny didn’t. Only Penny Stipetto didn’t want to look like a lily with everybody waiting to see how he took it. No, he had to go gunning for me himself.
And somebody else nailed him.
Why?
It didn’t take too much doing to locate Ernie South. I had enough friends in the area who didn’t dig the narcotics bit and had seen too much heat brought in on their own operations because of his. They were glad to pinpoint him at a sleezy gin mill that featured a belly dancer, and let me work out my own arrangements with him. They knew damn well there was a price on my head from all directions, but they had lived under the shakedown racket Big Step ran too long to help him out any. All I got was a word to watch myself, a couple offers of an assist I waved off and a silent word that meant they hoped I could make something stick.
For an hour and a half I stood across the street waiting, watching the customers come and go until the place was almost empty. Then, through the window, I saw Ernie flip a bill to the bartender, say something they both thought was funny, then go to the door.
He was looking west watching for a cab when I put the nose of the .45 in his ribs and said, “Hello, Ernie.”
Even before he turned around he started to shake like he was going to come apart at the seams. He stiffened, seemed to rise on his toes and twisted just enough to see me. Then his eyes met mine briefly and a smile flickered across his mouth and he relaxed until he was almost casual. “You’re taking big chances these days, Irish.”
“Not from you, punk.” I nudged him with the gun, ran my hand over his pockets and beltline to make sure he wasn’t heeled and said, “Start walking. Get out of line just once and you’ve had it, boy.” I wasn’t putting on an act. I’d scatter his guts over the street as fast as I’d look at him and he knew it, but he knew it didn’t have to happen either so he simply shrugged and turned toward Broadway and strolled along with me at his side like a couple of buddies.
“You’re in the wrong end of town, Irish. Big Step has his people all over the place.”
“Then hope we don’t meet any. You’ll catch the first one.”
I saw his nervous glance to both sides of the street, hoping nobody would show. Hopheads Ernie could handle. Me he couldn’t. “What’s the gimmick?” he asked. “We never tangled. I’m not any part of the show.”
“I want Fly. He peddled around for you and you supplied his H. Where is he?”
“How the hell should I know?”
“The last time I saw him he needed to blast bad. You’re his source.”
Ernie South didn’t answer me. He reached for a cigarette and lit it with a hand that shook badly.
I said, “Ernie, I’m going to point this rod at your leg. I’m going to put one right through the back of your knee and roll out of here before a squad car can get near the place. You’ll be going around on an aluminum and plastic peg the rest of your life.”
He tried to sound calm about it. “You wouldn’t do it.”
“Remember Junior Swan? Ever see his hands? He can’t use either of them now. Remember Buck Harris and Sy Green? Sy’s mind is going on him now and Buck is still in a wheelchair in a charity ward trying to forget that night.”
Ernie remembered all right. I could see the sweat on his forehead glistening under his hatbrim. He swallowed, wiped his hand across his face and half whispered, “So Fly’s on the out list. He don’t get a thing from nobody.”
“Why?”
“Because Big Step said so. He’s making Fly hurt for doing a dumb thing like he did with you.”
“Where is he, Ernie?”
“I don’t know! I...”
He heard the .45 go off half cock and the tiny click was like a sonic boom in his ears. “Come on, Irish, I don’t know where he is. Try somebody else!”
“Name them.”
“Cortez maybe. Connie Morse or Joey Gomp on Ninety-Sixth Street. He used to hit them sometimes.”
“That’s still Big Step’s territory.”
“Sure, and they’re all cuttin’ him off. So try downtown. He had some contacts there only don’t ask who. My turf is here. I don’t know them guys.”
I knew he was telling the truth. Ernie South wasn’t about to lie to me right then or he knew what would happen. “Where’s his pad, Ernie?”
“Basement joint two places down from Steve’s Diner on Second.”
I caught the expression that came into his face and let him feel a touch of the gun again. “Finish it, Ernie.”
He was caught and knew it. If he didn’t lay it on the line he knew I’d come looking for him. He said, “Big Step’s got a man covering the place.”
“Why?”
“So Fly can’t make his pad if he’s got anything stashed away in there.”
“Nice. Step holds a big mad, doesn’t he?”
“You’ll find out,” he said viciously.
“Who killed Penny Stipetto, Ernie?”
He stopped then, turned his head to look directly at me and his eyes were black with hate. His whole face seemed drawn in a tight mask. I grinned at him deliberately and shook my head. “Not me, boy.”
“You’re dead, Ryan. You might just as well jump in front of a subway and get it over with.”
I thumbed the .45 back on half cock again and shoved it under my belt. “When I go it’ll be the hard way and it won’t be alone. Go tell Big Step I’m looking for him.”
He almost ran getting to the corner and when he was out of sight I cut across the street, through an alley and came out the other side, flagged down a cab and told him to take me to the Cafeteria. Big Step, Newbolder, Schmidt and the rest might be looking for me but they wouldn’t be expecting me to turn up in a place I ate in five nights a week. Enough of the Broadway crowd would be on hand as usual to pass me any information if they weren’t too scared of the action.
Wally Pee was the first one to spot me and he almost spilled his coffee. He gave me the signal that he was no good for talking and let his eyes sidle to the back corner where Izzy Goldwitz was finishing a pot pie with his usual relish. I walked up, got a cup of coffee and took it back to Izzy’s table where I sat down with my back to the rest. It could be a fatal mistake, but I didn’t want anybody picking me up by sight. Izzy got that sick look again and couldn’t finish his pot pie, reaching for his coffee to quiet down what was happening to his stomach.
When he put the cup down his eyes pleaded with me. “Get lost, Irish. Get away from me, huh? You got this town on its ear already and I don’t want to be there when the shooting starts again.”
“No sweat, Izzy. All I want is Fly. You see him around?”
“Me, I don’t see nothing. Now scram, okay?”
“Fly’s shitting all the suppliers.”
“I know. Big Step’s got him cut off. Fly’s taking a cure whether he likes it or not and it’ll kill him for letting you off the hook. So whatta you want him for? Another guy was looking for him before. Got Pedro the bus boy all shook?”