“All right, Reed, get on with it. So you went to the Hi-Hat and spoke to the tender—”
“Right. And I got the name of the pimp.”
“You didn’t hurt the tender, did you?”
“Naw, he was John Wayne’s sister. He gave the pimp right up. I went over there to the cathouse, had a talk with the guy, little fellow by the name of Morgan. Him I hadda rough up, but not much. I could see right away that someone else had already landed a good one on his beak. I gave him a short right in the same place, made his eyes tear up—”
“Get on with it, I said.”
“All right. So I give this guy the business and find out about the girl. I get her name and her description and a few other things, too. Only, the girl, she ain’t around no more.”
“So where is she?”
“Well,” said Reed with a tight giggle, “you’re really gonna like this next part. Turns out an old friend of ours pulled her out of that cathouse.”
Burke said, “Who’s that?”
Reed smiled in the direction of Recevo. “Pete Karras.”
Burke put his glass down on the desk. Recevo stared straight ahead.
“Yeah,” said Reed, “it was Karras, and he hasn’t learned a goddamn thing. Seems he couldn’t help from bein’ his usual tough-nut self. Before he walked out of the cathouse, he even gave Morgan his name. Don’t that take all? Told Morgan to make sure and remember it. Well, he remembered it, all right.”
“But why? What connects Karras to the girl?” Burke rubbed his temple. “Joe, you have any idea?”
Recevo said nothing.
Burke looked at him oddly. “Gearhart. Gearhart connects them. Isn’t that right, Joe?”
“Yes,” said Recevo, not bothering to lie, knowing then that it was all coming toward him too fast.
“It was Karras who tipped you to Gearhart, isn’t that right?”
“Yes, Mr. Burke, that’s right.”
Reed clapped his hands together, laughed loudly.
“Why didn’t you tell me, Joe?”
“Karras did us a favor fingering Gearhart. That’s the way I read it, anyway. But I didn’t know how you were gonna take it, so I kept it to myself.”
“You feed me information,” said Burke in a grim and even way, “and I decide how to take it.”
“Yes, Mr. Burke.”
“You hear me, Joe?” Burke stood, stumbled a bit, leaned forward. He brought his fist down on the desk. “I decide!”
“Yessir.”
Burke fell back in his chair, narrowed his eyes to focus. He lowered his voice. “All right, let me think. Just give me a minute here so I can think.”
Go on. Go on and think, you sloppy bastard. Have another shot of wisdom and think. Recevo dragged on his cigarette.
So they all stayed where they were while Burke let the whiskey form a plan in his head.
Burke cleared his throat. Then he said, “This is what I want, Joe: I want you to bring Karras in.”
“Like I said, Mr. Burke, he did us a favor.”
“Then I’m gonna do him one, too.”
“How’s that?”
Burke smiled thinly. “I called Philly this morning, Joe. Bender and his boys never arrived. It’s a lead-pipe cinch that Stefanos and the rest of them buried Bender. So now we’ve got to save face and bury the Greeks.”
“Now you’re talkin’,” said Reed.
Recevo had to think quickly. “Mr. Burke — the reason Pete Karras tipped me... well, I didn’t want to bring it up before, on account of you had so much on your mind. But the reason he tipped me is, he’s tryin’ to be a hero here. What I mean to say is, he wants to come back in. He wants another chance here with us.”
“After what we did to him?”
“Bullshit,” said Reed.
“Forget about what we did to him. He’s seen his future. It’s in the back room of a hash-house, with an apron tied around his waist. He’s got a kid now—”
“All right, I believe you.” Burke eyed Recevo. “I don’t know why, but I do. Which is all the more reason to bring him in. But first he’s gonna have to prove himself to me.”
“By doing what?”
“He’s gonna have to deliver the whore. I want to talk to her, see what Gearhart told her about us. I don’t want her chirping about our business to the cops. I wanna make sure she’s not going to trip us up.”
“What the hell,” said Reed. “So he brings her in — so what? Like we got use for a cripple around here. What are we gonna do next, bring Harold Russell on board?”
“Shut up, Reed,” said Burke. And then to Recevo: “Whad’ya think, Joe?”
“I’ll talk to him, Mr. Burke.”
“Talk to him. Yes. And if he has any ideas about doing something noble with the Greeks or the whore, give it to him like this: He stays with the Greeks, he dies. He tries to protect the girl, he dies. Get it?”
“Yes, Mr. Burke.”
“And Joe. You ever think of crossing me... you ever hold back on me in any way again... well, Joe, you’re going to die, too. Believe it.”
“Y-y-yes, Mr. Burke.”
Recevo put a twitch in his lip. He put it there, just like he had put the stammer in his reply. He had made it happen, like an actor would in a picture. Because it hadn’t come naturally. It hadn’t come naturally because it wasn’t there. The fear was not there anymore.
“Tonight, Joe. Bring Karras and the girl in tonight.”
“Okay, Mr. Burke. We’ll settle this tonight.”
“Okay,” said Karras. “I’ll see you then.”
Karras hung the phone in its cradle. He stood in the middle of the living area of the apartment, touched the mole on his face. Eleni walked from Dimitri’s bedroom and through the hall.
“I got him down,” she said.
“Good. Listen, sweetheart, I gotta go out for a little while.”
She studied his face. “Who was that on the phone just now, Pete?”
“Joe Recevo.”
“You’re goin’ out with Joe? Why?”
“He wants to see me.”
“So he calls and you jump.”
“I’m goin’ out.”
Karras walked to the bathroom, washed his face, ran some tonic through his gray hair. In the bedroom, he opened the top drawer of his dresser, withdrew a fifty-dollar bill that he had slipped in a rolled pair of socks back in 1946. He tucked the bill into his wallet. He went to the closet, found the rest of what he needed on the top shelf, attached what he had found onto his body and put his suit jacket on over that. He dropped a fresh deck of Luckies into the jacket. He shook himself into his topcoat, stood in front of Eleni’s full-length mirror, smoothed the topcoat out.
John Hodiak. He winked at his reflection in the glass.
Karras walked out of the bedroom and down the hall and opened the door to where his son slept in his crib. He leaned into the crib, kissed the boy on his sweaty scalp. He breathed in deeply; Dimitri’s black hair had the scent of Johnson’s shampoo. He ran a finger down Dimitri’s cheek.
“My good boy,” whispered Karras.
He limped from the room, leaving the door ajar so the child would not be hot.
Eleni waited for Karras at the entrance to the hall. She put her arms around him, kissed him on the mouth. She looked in his eyes.
“What is it, Pete?”
“It’s nothin’.”
“Yiati eise stenichorimenos?”
“I’m tellin’ you, it’s nothin’. I’m not worried about a thing.”
“Don’t be late, okay? I made a pot of dolmathes.”
Karras kissed her. His thumb brushed a fallen eyelash off her cheek.
“I love you, baby.”
“Come home early, Pete.”
“Sure. And keep Dimitri’s door open, will ya? Christ, the kid’s gonna roast in there.”