“Mike . . .”
“Just do it and shut up.”
“Mike . . .”
I said softly, “I gave you The Dragon, didn’t I?”
“Yes.”
“I was dead. You exhumed me. You made me do things that were goddamned near impossible and when I didn’t die doing them you were surprised. So be surprised now. Do like I tell you.”
“Or . . .?’
“Or Velda won’t come in.”
“You’re sure?”
“Positive, friend.”
“It will be done.”
“Thanks.”
“No trouble.”
And Velda told them the next day. She spelled it out in detail and a government organization collapsed. In Moscow thirty men died and in the East Zone of Berlin five more disappeared and in South America there was a series of accidents and several untimely deaths and across the face of the globe the living went to the dead in unaccountable numbers and codes and files were rearranged and meetings hastily brought about and summit conferences planned and in the U.N. buildings whole new philosophies were adopted and decisions brought about in a changed light and as suddenly as she had been a threat to a different world, she had become a person again. She had nothing more to give and in the world of politics there was no retribution as long as you knew nothing new and really didn’t care at all.
But there was something new. There were two dead men to tell about it and somewhere in the city was another with a bullet in his gut looking for somebody to take it out and if the little blonde didn’t tell, one of these would.
You just didn’t lay dead men at your feet without someone coming looking for you.
And I had them at my feet.
CHAPTER 2
I knew I had a tail on me when I left the D.A.’s office. It had been nicely set up even though Rickerby had put the fix in for me. No local police force likes to be queered out of a deal in their own backyard, and if they could move in, orders or not, they were going to give it the big try. If Pat had set the tail it would have been hard to spot, but the new D.A. was too ambitious to figure out there were civilian-type pros in the police business too.
For an hour I let him wait outside bars, fool around a department store while I picked up a few goodies, then went in one door of the Blue Ribbon Restaurant on Forty-fourth, around through the bar, and out that door while he was looking for me at the tables. I was back on Seventh Avenue before he knew I was gone, flagged down a cab, and had him cut over to Forty-ninth and Ninth.
Connie Lewis’ place was called “La Sabre” and turned out to be a downstairs supper place for the neighborhood trade. It specialized in steaks and chops and seemed to be built around a huge charcoal grill that smoked and sizzled into a copper canopy. Connie was a round little woman with a perpetual smile and wrinkles at the corners of her eyes and mouth that said it was for real. It had been years since I had seen her and she hadn’t changed a bit.
But me she didn’t recognize at first. When it did come she beamed all over, tried to get me to drink, then eat, and when I wouldn’t do either, showed me the way to the staircase going upstairs and told me Velda was on the second floor rear with her company.
I used the same VY knock and she opened the door. There was no gun in her hand this time, but I knew it wasn’t far out of reach. She pulled me in, closed the door, and locked it. I grinned at her, grabbed her by the shoulders, and touched her mouth with mine. Lightly. I couldn’t afford any more. Her eyes laughed back at me and told me I could pick my own time and place. Any time, any place.
I said, “Hello, beautiful. Where’s the kid?”
“Here I am, Mike.”
She eased into the room impishly, hands clasped behind her back. She stood at the corner of the bedroom door watching, seemingly unafraid, but inside those huge brown eyes was a worm of fear that had been there too long to be plucked out easily.
I took Velda’s arm, steered her to the table, and motioned the kid to come over too. Automatically, the kid slid closer to Velda, knowing she was protected there, never taking her eyes from my face.
“Let’s have it,” I said.
Velda nodded. “You can tell him.”
“I . . . don’t know.”
For what it was worth I took out my new wallet and flipped it open. The blue and gold card with the embossed seal in the plastic window did the trick again. She studied it, frowned, then made up her mind.
“All right,” she finally told me. “My name is Sue Devon.” When she said it there was a challenge in her voice I couldn’t ignore.
“Am I supposed to know you?”
She flicked her eyes to her hands, to Velda, then to me. “I have another name.”
“Oh?”
“Torrence. I never use it. He had me legally adopted a long time ago but I never use his name. I hate it.”
I shook my head. “Sorry, kid. I don’t make you at all.”
Velda reached out and touched my hand. “Sim Torrence. He was the District Attorney once; now he’s running in the primaries for governor of the state.”
“Win with Sim?”
“That’s right.”
“I remember seeing posters around but I never tied him up with the D.A.’s office.” I let a grin ease out. “It’s been a rough seven years. I didn’t keep up with politics. Now let’s hear the rest of this.”
Sue nodded, her hair tumbling around her face. She bit at her lip with even white teeth, her hands clasped so tight the knuckles showed white. “I ran away from him.”
“Why?”
The fear was a live thing in her eyes. “I think . . . he killed my mother. Now he wants to kill me.”
When I glanced at Velda I knew she was thinking the same thing I was. I said, “People running for governor don’t usually kill people.”
“He killed my mother,” she repeated.
“You said you thought he did.” She didn’t answer so I asked, “When was this supposed to have happened?”
“A long time ago.”
“How long?”
“I . . . was a baby. Eighteen years ago.”
“How do you know he did this?”
She wouldn’t look at me. “I just know it, that’s all.”
“Honey,” I said, “you can’t accuse a man of murder with a reason like that.”
She made a little shrug and worked her fingers together.
I said, “You have something else in your mind. What is it?”
Velda slipped her arm around her shoulders and squeezed. Sue looked at her gratefully and turned back to me again. “I remember Mama talking. Before she died. Whatever she said . . . is in my mind . . . but I can’t pick out the words. I was terribly frightened. She was dying and she talked to me and told me something and I don’t remember what it was!” She sucked her breath in and held it while the tears welled up in her eyes.
When she relaxed I said, “And what makes you think he wants to kill you?”
“I know . . . the way he looks at me. He . . . touches me.”
“Better, baby. You’ll have to do better than that.”
“Very well. There was a car. It almost hit me.”
“Did you recognize it?”
“No.”
“Go on.”
“There was a man one night. He followed me home from the theater. He tried to cut me off but I knew the roads and lost him not far from the house.”