“Well, that’s fine,” Bannion said, after a pause. “Let me wish you luck.”
“We thought you could help us,” Lehto said.
“I’m no newspaperman.”
“We have more than news columns in the paper. There’s an editorial page, too. If there’s anything you want to say, any pressure you might like to exert, we could help you do it.”
“I’m not interested in the sociological angles of corruption,” Bannion said. “I’m after the men who killed my wife.”
“We’re after the same people. For that and other crimes. Do you see any reason why we can’t work together?”
“Yes. You’re crusaders. My motivations aren’t so lofty.”
“What difference does that make if we’re trying to achieve the same result? Bannion, the people of this town need a fire-cracker under their tail. If we can slap them across the face with a big story, something they can’t ignore, they may use their God-given but atrophying common sense and let some clear air into the city next month.”
“A big story, eh? You think I’ve got one?”
“Yes, I do. Why was Lucy Carroway murdered? Why was your wife killed? Why does a cop have to quit the department to find answers to those questions? That’s the story, Bannion.”
“Possibly it is,” Bannion said. “But I don’t have it yet. And I won’t get it here.”
Lehto stood up, smiling rather reluctantly. “You want to work alone, I know. The trouble is the rest of us want to get into the act. It’s a job that will be a pleasure to do.”
“I’m hoping so,” Bannion said. “Sorry I wasn’t more help. Goodbye.”
There was a gray Chevrolet parked directly before the entrance of the hotel. Burke, from Homicide, was at the wheel, watching the revolving doors. When Bannion appeared, he climbed out of the car, his long face solemn. He pointed a finger at Bannion. “Bang!” he said softly. “Just like that, big boy.” He wasn’t smiling.
“Charades?” Bannion said.
“It ain’t funny. Come here and meet our friend.”
Bannion followed him to the side of the car. Carmody was in the back seat. He waved to Bannion. Shackled to his wrist, was a sullen-looking man with yellow hair that needed cutting.
“The hayseed is Joe Hoffman from Chicago, and he’s no hayseed,” Burke said. “You know him, Dave?”
Bannion stared at Hoffman, the long, awkward-looking man who might have been someone’s country cousin on a first trip to the city. He remembered lighting a cigarette for Hoffman not two hours ago. “Yes! I’ve seen him,” he said.
“Well, that’s good,” Burke said dryly. “You probably know that he’s been tailing you around town all day. You probably also know that he works for Ryan in Chicago.”
“No, that’s news,” Bannion said. He glanced at Burke. “I should say thanks, I guess. How’d you get him?”
“A cop at the airport recognized him when he got off the plane last night,” Burke said. “This cop, who must be new on the job, passed the information on to the Hall. I mean, his sense of duty sounds like something only a new man would have.”
“Yes, I got your fine sardonic touch,” Bannion said. “Then what?”
“We checked the hotels and found him,” Burke said. “Carmody and I started after him this morning, and he started after you. We picked him up about ten minutes ago. He was parked across the street in a rented car, with a forty-five on his knee.” Burke glanced into the car at Hoffman. “I’m glad to say he’s got no permit for the gun. We’ll find out who brought him into town.”
“I can tell you,” Bannion said.
“The hell you will,” Burke said, with a little smile. “I want to get it from him.” He pointed a finger at Bannion. “Remember, big boy, it could happen. Stay awake.”
“Okay,” Bannion said.
Burke slapped his arm and got back into the car. It moved out from the curb, picked up speed and disappeared in the traffic.
“You may need our help, after all,” Lehto said.
Bannion looked over his shoulder. Lehto and Furnham were standing just outside the revolving door of the hotel. Lehto’s long, shy face was serious.
“You’ll hear from me when I do,” Bannion said.
He walked down the block, irritated and angry. This job was all his, his alone. He didn’t want help from anyone.
Muscle had got him this far; now he had to use his head. The secret lay with Deery, a dead man. He would start with him now, the automatic little cog who handled the department’s paper work and spent his nights reading about the bullfights in Spain, and the fertility charms at Pompeii.
Chapter 13
Max Stone had left orders with Alex not to be disturbed; he was in bed and he wanted to stay there, alone in the darkened room, until he felt able to get up and talk to people.
It was six in the evening and he’d been in bed all day, ever since Judge McGraw had left him at dawn. He hadn’t been able to sleep; every time he’d doze off a splintered thought of Debby would pierce his mind, and he’d thrash about for a more comfortable position, hoping that the activity would banish the memory of her screams.
The door opened a crack. “Max, it’s Lagana on the phone,” Alex said. “I told him you weren’t feeling well, but he said he has to talk to you.”
“Okay, okay,” Stone said.
Wearing nothing but shorts he padded into the small office he’d put in beside his bedroom. He picked up the phone. “Yeah, Mike, what is it?” He sat down feeling his heart pounding beneath his fat-armored ribs. “I’ve been in bed all day. What’s up?”
“Wake up and stay awake,” Lagana said in a tight, angry voice. “I’ve got enough to worry about in the Northeast without trouble from your area.”
“What the hell’s wrong?”
“The cops have that hot-shot you imported from Chicago, for one thing,” Lagana said. “Joe Hoffman. He was tailing Bannion and got himself arrested. What is he, a cub scout?”
Stone rubbed his aching forehead. “Ryan said he was all right,” he muttered.
“That’s a great help,” Lagana said. “This is the second time you’ve messed up on Bannion. Now get this: leave him alone. Understand? Hoffman has admitted to the police he was here ‘watching’ Bannion. The Express already has a story on it. They want to know why Chicago hoods are imported to watch our former cops. There’s been too much excitement in the city, and by God I want it stopped. Got it?”
“You think it’s safe to let Bannion run around loose?”
Lagana said, in a cold, precise voice, “I want no more excitement. We’ll take care of him after the elections. Maybe you can figure out some way to keep him harmlessly occupied until then, but no rough stuff. These papers are riding us and our friends, and it’s got to stop.”
“Sure, sure,” Stone said.
“Okay. Now, another thing. You heard from Larry today?”
“No. I’m seeing him tonight.”
“Maybe you won’t. The word is around that he spilled to Bannion about who ordered that bomb put in his car. You heard nothing about this, eh?”