Milo march 12, p.14
Milo March #12, page 14
We finished our drinks and she bought a round. She and Eddie talked some more about business and exchanged the latest dirty jokes. Then the phone rang and she went to answer it.
“Let’s move on,” I said.
“Okay,” he said.
We finished our drinks by the time she’d come back. We said good-bye and left. She followed us to the door and made a point of telling me to come back. We got into the car.
“Looks like you made a hit,” Eddie said as we pulled out.
“Thanks for nothing,” I said. “Where are we going? Blake’s?”
“If you want to,” he said. He turned and we went back the way we’d come.
“Blake a native son?” I asked.
“No. He came up here sometime after I did. The place was owned by a woman, Carol Shores—a nice-looking broad. Her husband had died a couple of years before that and she’d been running the place by herself. Blake bought a half interest in the place and the next thing we knew they got married. A nice guy, a nice broad—everybody was pleased about it.”
“There’s nothing like weddings and funerals,” I agreed. We drove through the back roads until we finally reached 32 again. Then we turned left toward New Windsor. About a mile down the road Eddie turned in. It was a neat, modern building. The sign said Blake’s Inn. There was only one other car parked there. We got out and went over to the entrance. The door was locked. Eddie knocked on it and after a bit he looked out, the man whose picture had been in the paper. He opened the door.
“Hi, Eddie,” he said. “I’ve been closed for a few days, but I guess you and your friend can come in—as long as we keep it quiet.”
We followed him inside, through an attractive dining room and into a very pleasant little bar. Eddie and I perched on stools and Blake went behind the bar.
“What’ll you have?” he asked.
“Scotch and V.O. on the rocks,” Eddie said, “and have one yourself. Tom, this is Milo March. Tom Blake.”
We shook hands and he started fixing the drinks. I sat and watched him. Now that I’d seen him full face, I knew he was Thomas Rako. His hair was a little thinner; he had the mustache, and he was maybe twenty-five pounds heavier, but that’s who he was.
“Carol’s lying down,” he said as he brought the drinks. “The last twenty-four hours have been a little rough.”
“I was sorry to hear about it,” Eddie said. “But you ought to get through it without any trouble. I don’t think the ABC can even give you any trouble over it. You had a permit for the gun, didn’t you?”
Blake nodded. He kept looking at me and then looking away. But I knew that since he was Rako, he would notice the gun I was carrying sooner or later.
“I guess he spotted the safe,” Blake said.
There was a safe in the middle of the bar, down on the floor.
“He must’ve thought it would be an easy touch and he was drunk. I was lucky.” Suddenly his gaze fixed on me and he was no longer the shy, fat man I’d seen in the newspaper picture. “You from around here, March?”
“No,” I said. “I’m from the city. You might say this is a sort of vacation.”
His gaze had shifted to my left shoulder. “Oh? What do you do when you’re not vacationing? Cop?”
“No,” Eddie said, “Milo’s―”
“I’m not a cop,” I said quickly. “The pay’s too small.”
“Who do you work for?” Blake asked.
“Myself,” I said. I smiled at him. “You might say I’m a sportsman. I heard that this was a good place to come.”
“There’s some good shooting around here,” he said laconically. “How’s business, Eddie?”
“Lousy,” Eddie said. “All beer trade. If I could get somebody to give me eleven thousand, I’d sell like a shot. How is it with you?”
“We’ve been doing pretty good on the dinner trade, but I don’t know what this’ll do to us.”
“You’ll be all right,” Eddie said. “It might even help.”
“Yeah,” he said. He was still a little nervous about me, but I was keeping quiet, so he started to relax.
We had one more drink and then left. He was almost cordial as he said good-bye. We went out and got into Eddie’s car.
“What was that all about?” he asked as he headed out of the driveway.
“He spotted my gun,” I said, “and it made him nervous. Where are you headed now?”
“A couple of places in Newburgh.”
“I hate to be a party pooper, but I’d like to go back to your place.”
“Okay,” he said, and turned the car the other way. We drove back to Cornwall without talking.
“Want to do me a favor?” I asked as we drove down the street to his bar. I could see that Nick Potti was still parked there.
“Sure. What?”
“Drive around in the back where you were parked before. Then trade cars with me for a couple of hours. Mine is that new Mercury there.”
“All right,” he said.
I slid down to the floor out of sight and we drove in and around to the back. I gave him the keys to the Mercury and he got out. I drove ahead and out the other driveway and took off. I watched the rearview mirror, but Nick Potti stayed where he was. There was no guarantee that he would continue to stay there. I took a roundabout way and went back to my motel. I dug into my suitcase and took out my spare gun. It was a tiny four-shot derringer I’d had a gunsmith make over so that it now fired .32 caliber shells. I checked it and then strapped its holster around my leg, under my trousers, and put the gun in it. I went out again.
I drove down Route 32 until I reached Blake’s Inn and pulled in. I walked over and knocked on the door. I saw him looking out the window and then he opened the door about an inch.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I told you that I’m supposed to be closed. The only reason I let you in before was because Eddie’s a friend of mine.”
I put my foot in the door before he could close it. “I’m the reason,” I said, “that Jerry Dell tried to kill you. You’d better let me come in and talk to you.”
Suddenly he looked tired. He opened the door and I stepped inside. I followed him into the bar.
“A drink?” he asked automatically.
“No, I’ve had enough for the time,” I said.
He’d taken a cloth and was rubbing the top of the bar as though he didn’t know what he was doing. “I thought you said you wasn’t a cop,” he said.
“I’m not. I work for an insurance company. We have to pay a million dollars the day you’re declared legally dead. That’s a lot of money. We don’t like to lose it.”
“I don’t have any insurance,” he said. He was making a last stand, but his heart wasn’t in it.
“Tom Blake may not, but Tom Rako does. You know better than that. Johnny Clark can send a hundred Jerry Dells—and he will if he has to. He’s obviously made a decision about you.”
“What do you mean?”
“Jerry Dell tried to kill you, didn’t he? So Johnny Clark must have decided that he’d rather take a chance on fighting the evidence you might leave behind than the testimony of a live witness.”
He stared at me dully. “How did you find me, March?”
“Partly luck, partly figuring out what you must have done, and partly Johnny Clark’s stupidity.”
“You think you’re going to take me back?” he asked.
I shook my head. “I wouldn’t think of it. I’m not interested in taking you anywhere. I’ve discovered that you’re still alive and that’s all I was interested in doing. Of course, the situation may change any minute.”
“What does that mean?”
“If you’re smart, Rako, you’ll take yourself back.”
“Why?”
“I can think of two reasons. You won’t be facing very much. Contempt of Congress is only one year if you get sent up. You can probably bargain your way out of that by telling what you know about Johnny Clark. You might even be able to make a deal on the bigamy charge. None of those are as serious as the alternative.”
“What’s that?”
“You already know the answer to that. Johnny Clark sent Jerry Dell to kill you if I got too close. So you got Jerry, but do you think it’s going to end there? Nick Potti is already in the neighborhood. Maybe you can kill him. Clark will send another one and another one and another one until somebody gets you.”
“I’m going to call Johnny. He’ll see it my way.”
“Not anymore. Sure, he’s seen it your way for almost seven years, but now he’s more afraid of you than he is of what you have. And he’ll see that there’s no turning back now that I’ve found you.”
“I could kill you,” he said. His hands were out of sight under the bar. “That would show Johnny I was on the level.”
“You can try,” I said gently, “but I don’t think you’ll make it.” My hand was already on my gun beneath my coat.
“We can work something out,” he said desperately. “I’m supposed to get half of that million dollars when the court declares me dead. Johnny gets the other half. I’ll split my half with you. I’ve already put the restaurant up for sale. We’re going to Brazil as soon as I get the half million.”
“And your evidence against Johnny?”
“He gets it back as soon as I get to Brazil. That’s the agreement.”
I shook my head. “You can’t buy me, Rako, but that’s not even the point. Johnny Clark is no longer going to let you live to collect your half million. He doesn’t dare let you live.”
“He has to. It must have been some kind of mistake with Jerry Dell. All I have to do is talk to Johnny.”
“You killed Dell yesterday. Why haven’t you talked to Johnny already?”
“I’ve called three times but he wasn’t in.”
“He’s not going to be in to you. Get smart, Rako. Johnny Clark has become a lot more successful and powerful since you were around him. He’s decided that he can take a chance on whatever you’ve got on him, but that he can’t take a chance on you.”
He had a trapped look. “He has to take a chance on me. I could send him up for murder.”
“Maybe. I don’t know what evidence you have, but he might very well beat it if you weren’t around to testify. He’s probably already talked to his lawyers and knows where he stands.”
“But I’ve got the evidence. I’ve got the gun he used to kill a man ten years ago—with his prints all over it. He told me to dump it, but I put it away for insurance.”
“I think your policy just ran out,” I told him. “With you dead, Johnny Clark could probably beat that with no trouble.”
“I’ve made an affidavit about what I saw.”
“He might beat that, too, providing the authorities ever get it. His hired killer might find it—in your safe there, for example. And besides, you’d be dead, very dead.”
He stared at me like a cornered animal. “You’re not going to take me in. You have no authority.”
“I’m not even going to try to take you anywhere,” I said.
“Then what do you want from me?”
“I don’t want anything from you, Rako. If you’re smart, I think you’ll walk out of here and go with me to the State Police. They’ll take you into custody and see that nobody shoots you. That sounds to me like the best offer you have. By the way, how did you get the best of Jerry Dell? He was supposed to be pretty good.”
“I had a gun under the bar,” he said dully. “He told me to open the safe. I took the gun with me when I turned to do it. I opened the safe and when I turned back I had the gun on him. He was looking at the safe. I shot him. His gun went off as he fell, and hit back there.” He gestured behind him to where the lower corner of the mirror was cracked.
“The affidavit in the safe?” I asked.
“It’s there, but the gun’s in a safe-deposit box in Newburgh. Why can’t you just walk away and leave me alone, March?”
“I could leave you alone,” I told him, “but Johnny Clark isn’t going to, not any longer.”
He shook his head as though he couldn’t understand.
“If nobody had found you during the next month,” I said, “he might have let you go to Brazil, but I have an idea that something would have happened to you there. Since you have been found, Johnny Clark can’t afford to let you stay alive. You were in the business long enough, Rako. You should know that.”
“If I could talk to Johnny …”
“Go ahead and try again,” I said.
There was a knock on the front door. Rako looked startled for a minute, then his face smoothed out. The knock was repeated.
“I was supposed to get a liquor delivery today,” he said. “That must be it now. I’ll go let him in.” He looked at me questioningly.
“Go ahead,” I said. “Get it straight, Rako. I’m not here to threaten you in any way. I’m here to try to save your life. So go ahead and let in your whiskey.”
He brought his hands into sight and walked out from behind the bar. He looked at me for a minute, then walked heavily into the dining room toward the front door. I lit a cigarette and waited. I could hear the faint murmur of voices and then the sound of footsteps coming closer. The minute I saw Rako’s face I knew I’d made a mistake, but it was too late. Nick Potti was right behind him with a gun in his hand.
“Relax, March,” he said. He finally looked happy. “I guess you thought that was a pretty smart trick, trading cars with the clown in the bar.”
Rako had started to go behind the bar.
“Uh-uh,” Nick said, prodding him with the gun. “That’s where you were when you shot Jerry. Maybe you got another gun there. Get over to the wall. You, too, March.”
I slid off the stool and backed over to the wall. Rako was beside me. His face was pale. I guess he finally realized I’d been right.
“Both of you turn around and put your hands up on the wall. Lean your weight on them.”
We both obeyed. Nick Potti came over and took my gun. He patted my coat and pants pockets, then turned his attention to Rako. When he’d finished, he went back across the room.
“All right,” he said. “You can both go over and sit on the bar stools. But move nice and easy so I don’t get nervous.”
He waited until we were both seated. Then he smiled at Rako. “Hi, Tom. Long time no see.”
“I didn’t get a chance to tell you that I was glad to see you, Nick,” Rako said. He was going to make a last pathetic try, but it was too obvious. “This fellow was just going to take me in to the cops.”
“Sure,” Nick said soothingly. “We wouldn’t want that to happen, would we, Tom boy? We don’t like cops, do we?”
“That’s right, Nick,” he said eagerly.
“And bright boy over there is a sort of cop, too. We don’t like him either. Isn’t that right, Tom?”
“Sure, Nick.”
“That’s right, Nick, sure, Nick,” he mocked. “You’ve changed, Tom boy. You used to be a real snotty little bastard. Thought you were a big man. Now you talk real quiet. You’ve got fat and you’ve got a nice business here. I even hear you’re shacked up with a good-looking broad. Where is she?”
“Upstairs, asleep.” Rako’s voice had changed as if he’d finally realized that nothing was going to help.
“That’s nice. When I’m through with you two, maybe I’ll go up and give her a good time.”
Rako’s face tightened and turned paler. He started to say something, then clamped his mouth shut.
“I guess you’re still feeling big,” Nick said. “You killed Jerry Dell, and he was a hard man to kill. You even fixed it so you’ll probably get off with a suspended sentence. Smart. Maybe too smart. It would’ve solved all our problems if you’d arranged it so you could go to the chair.”
Rako stared at him silently.
“You’re both awful quiet,” Nick said mockingly. “Bright boy, there, has been so smart he doesn’t know when his luck runs out. And tough Tommy—killer Rako—he’s got nothing to say either, when the gun’s on the other end.”
“I notice you talk a little tougher when you’re holding a gun,” I said.
“Sure I do, bright boy. And I’m going to keep talking like that as long as you can hear.”
“Maybe.”
“Shut up,” he said. “I’ve got some talking to do, Tom boy. Johnny says you have a couple of things that belong to him. He wants them.”
Rako pursed his lips tighter and said nothing.
“And he’s going to get them, ain’t he, Tom boy? You know how good Johnny’s been to you. You’re not going to try to keep him from having what belongs to him.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Rako said tightly.
“Sure you do, Tom. I’m talking about a piece of paper and a gun, that’s all. You got them in that little dinky safe there?”
Rako was silent for a minute, then his lips moved stiffly. “The paper is here, but the gun is in a safe-deposit box in a bank and you can’t get that. My lawyer has my will, which says that the box is to be turned over to the cops if anything happens to me.”
“Now, that was pretty smart,” Nick said. “I didn’t think you had it in you, Tom boy. But I think we can maybe solve that problem, don’t you?”
“What do you mean?”
“I think it can be worked out,” Nick said. “Everything can be. It’s no secret that March has been looking for you. So he found you and you decided to shoot it out. This time both of you lost. You get killed by March’s gun and he gets killed by yours. I’m sure you have one back there somewhere. Neat, huh?”
“The cops will still get the gun that’s in the safe-deposit box.”
“I have a couple of ideas about that, too. I can put March on ice and you can go get the gun while I stay here with your broad. I think I like that one the best.”
“What’s the other idea?”
“Well, the three of us can stay here like three pals, and your wife—is that what you call her?—can go get the gun. Only she has to understand that if she makes a false move, you’re out like a light.”
“I’m going to be anyway,” Rako said.
“Sure, but there’s always hope, isn’t there? Bright boy might try to be a hero. The cops might just happen to stop in to see if your liquor license is okay. A lot of things could happen, Tom boy. As long as you’re alive, things are great.”
