She sneered at Dinneck as she wiggled into her panties. “It’s sweet all right, but you’ll never taste it.”
Dinneck laughed harshly and spat in the can. “So... your love child trip ends when that creep Webb cuts out.”
“Don’t try to talk like a hippie, Dinneck,” she said, pulling on ski pants that left her bare to the waist. “The only thing remotely hippie about you is your fat ass.”
A low blow, but just the same Dinneck flashed her what he considered to be his most charming smile. “Look, honey, you just made an easy fifty bucks, didn’t you? I mean, you didn’t even have to come across for Webb, just flirted a little and painted your cute tummy a flower. Now, wouldn’t you like to make an extra twenty-five for something really worth your while?”
She snapped her bra across Dinneck’s face and one of the metal snaps bit his cheek. “You were sent here to protect me, you little bastard, not to make passes. Now get the fuck out of here.”
“What’s eating you!”
“Not you, dork.” She whirled out of the john, hastily fastening the hooks on the bra.
Conceited little bitch, Dinneck thought, rubbing his cheek. He followed her out into the shabby mass of posters and pop art that was her apartment. He strolled over to the window and saw Webb leaving the Arms and heading down the street toward the dark blue Lincoln. In ten seconds he saw Tulip pick up Webb’s tail.
Dinneck looked back at Lyn Parks who was lying on the bed in ski pants and bra, sticking her shapely ass out at him in defiance, or so it seemed to Dinneck. She was staring at the door in a wistful sort of way, apparently wishing the man called Webb — whom she’d been paid to seduce and pump for information when he came calling on her — had taken her up on her offer.
Bitch, Dinneck thought. What the hell was it to her? She could obviously use the extra twenty-five he’d offered her. What was the difference if she gave Dinneck a quick roll in the hay?
“I suppose,” Dinneck said bitterly, gnawing on a toothpick, “it’s something else again when Broome tells you to diddle than when you diddle on your own.”
“Oh,” she said, not bothering to look back at him, “are you still here?”
Dinneck wanted her and he wanted her bad and he wanted her bad right now. “All right, baby, fifty bucks, that’s tops, fifty bucks!”
“Take your fifty bucks and stick it.”
“You bitch, you little bitch, if Broome okays Webb, why the hell not me?”
“What gives you the idea Broome okayed it?”
“You’re Broome’s woman, aren’t you?”
“Part-time. I’m my own woman full-time.”
“Well, if Broome didn’t ask you to give Webb the treatment, who the hell did?”
“The same guy that sent you, dummy.”
“You mean Elliot?”
“That’s right. God, you’re brilliant.”
Elliot had sent Dinneck to the girl that morning, to watch over her in case Webb got rough when he came calling. Late the night before, after washing their wounds from the pool battle with Webb, Dinneck and Tulip had reported their findings from the ransacking of Webb’s motel room to Elliot. In a notebook in Webb’s suitcase had been a list of names, one of which had been Lyn Parks. Since Lyn Parks supposedly belonged to Broome, one of Elliot’s hippie-town peddlers, Dinneck had assumed Elliot had gotten Broome’s permission before unleashing the Parks girl on Webb. Of course, Broome was a pretty weird character and probably wouldn’t give a damn who did what to his woman.
Dinneck chewed on his toothpick, thought for a while longer, then said, “How do you happen to do direct business with Mr. Elliot?”
“We’re acquainted.”
“You sell your goodies to him, too, do you?”
“I don’t sell myself, scumbag. I might rent out now and then, but as far as you’re concerned there’s no vacancy.”
“Your business connection with Elliot wouldn’t have anything to do with a certain ‘One-Thumb’ Gordon, now, would it?”
“How did you know that, you little bastard?” The girl was surprised to hear the name, as she should be, because it was the name of her father, who was an associate of the Boys. It was a well-kept secret that she was the uncontrollable offspring of Victor “One-Thumb” Gordon. She had threatened to expose her daddy’s Family ties unless he left her alone but well provided for.
“How the hell did you know about that?” she asked again.
Dinneck said, “Shut up, shut your damn mouth,” and wiped his sweaty forehead.
What a goddamn fool mistake that was, he told himself, letting information slip like that! He had gotten mad at the bitch and let his temper flare up and expose a piece of his cover. He had to remember to play smalltimer, and he hadn’t had any trouble in playing it till now. But if any of them — especially Elliot or anyone close to Elliot — saw through him, then he was washed up. If Elliot didn’t get him, Dinneck had no doubt his other employers would.
And that Webb, that son of a bitch, had he seen through the hick routine? He remembered the swimming pool and how Webb had held him under water till his lungs had nearly burst. Where had he seen that face before? As soon as he took care of his job in Chelsey, Dinneck promised himself he would take care of that bastard Webb. Whoever he really was.
Dinneck walked over to the bed and looked at the girl and thought to himself that if it wasn’t for the lousy clothes and the stooge role he’d had to assume, he might have gotten into that sweet bitch. As it was, the beautiful piece was sitting on the bed wishing she had made it with Webb.
“When you turned me down, sugar,” Dinneck said easily, “you missed something real fine.”
She kept her eyes fixed on the door. “I heard about you, needle dick. Remember a certain blonde waitress at the Eye? She says you don’t fuck for shit, and I believe her.”
Dinneck snarled and swung at her. She ducked and shot a small, sharp fist into his adam’s apple. While he stood choking with his hands wrapped around his throat, he saw her go to the dresser, pull open a drawer and withdraw a mostly empty vodka bottle. She broke it over the edge of the dresser and turned it into a formidable weapon. She held it up in a very unladylike manner, the slivers of glass catching bits of light and reflecting it around the room.
She said, “You’re going to leave now, and you’re going to leave lucky that I don’t call Elliot and tell him about the crap you’ve been giving me. The next time you come inside kicking range of me, you’ll leave wearing your balls for earrings.”
Dinneck choked some more and shuffled out.
She was a bitch, all right, he thought, but she was a tough bitch.
Dinneck, in the lobby, tossed away the toothpick and fought the sour taste in his mouth with a cigarette. He rubbed his throat gently, thought about how much fun he would have within the next day or two, when he’d be free to hit Webb and leave Miss Parks begging for more. But first he had to take care of the job he’d been hired to do in Chelsey.
He stepped up to the phone, dropped in a dime and dialed Elliot’s number.
Elliot was in his den reading Fortune when the phone rang.
It was Dinneck.
“Mr. Elliot, Webb wouldn’t go for Broome’s woman.”
Elliot said, “He wouldn’t dip into the delectable Miss Parks? Strange... did he give any reason for his celibacy?”
“Just smartass shit — ‘ever hear the word clap and I don’t mean applause.’ And so on.”
“A man of genuine wit, apparently. Did she get any information?”