I'll Get You For This

  He turned, lifted a key from a hook, put it down on the counter.

  "I'm sorry, sir," he said. "I couldn't do it. I have my job to consider."

  I slid him the fifty bucks.

  "Okay, but you'd better stick to this," I told him. "If you and I work together much longer, you'll be buying your own apartment block."

  He snapped up the note, eased his collar, came out of his office.

  "If you'll pardon me," he said, "I have to check on the mail deliveries." He hurried across the lobby without looking back.

  It didn't take me longer than it'd take you to blink to pick up the pass-key. I walked over to the elevator, rode up to the fourth floor.

  Apartment 466 was silent and in semi-darkness. I pulled my .38, held it in my fist. I had no intention of being jumped by Gomez.

  I crossed the sitting-room, wandered into the bedroom.

  Gomez and Lois Spence were in bed. He lay on his back; she on her side. Neither of them snored. Neither of them looked particularly attractive.

  I sat on the edge of the bed, pinched Lois's toes. She muttered in her sleep, turned, flung out a white arm, hit Gomez on his beaky nose. He cursed, threw her arm off, sat up. His eyes took me in, and he snapped awake. He didn't move. The .38 must have looked pretty menacing from where he lay.

  "Hello, sportsman," I said, smiling at him. "How did you like your swim?"

  He drew in a deep breath, relaxed back on his pillow. His eyes had that ferocious glare reserved for caged tigers, otherwise he kept surprisingly calm.

  "You'll do this once too often, Cain," he said, not moving his lips. "What's the idea?"

  "No idea," I said. "I blew in because I was curious to know how you liked your little dip last night."

  He studied me for a long moment. "I didn't like it," he said, at last.

  "Something told me you wouldn't," I said, grinning. "I must be getting clairvoyant. Well, brother, what are you going to do about it?" Without taking my eyes off him, I pulled out the copy of the Morning Star and handed it to him. "Take a gander at that. Our Ed. has cut himself a nice slice of publicity at your expense, hasn't he?"

  One look at the headlines brought Gomez up on his elbow. He was wearing mauve and white pyjamas. They didn't suit his sallow complexion. What with one thing and another, he looked like hell. I bet he felt that way too.

  His sudden move uncovered Lois. She didn't seem to have anything on. She grabbed the sheet back, muttered under her breath, turned over.

  Not wishing her to miss the fun, I pinched her toes again.

  "Cut that out!" she snapped angrily, opened her eyes. She looked at me, stiffened, clutched Gomez. He threw her off, and went on reading the newspaper.

  "Hi, Tutz," I said, smiling at her. "Don't froth up your cold cream. Me and Juan are in conference."

  She sat up, remembered there were gentlemen present, dived under the bedclothes again.

  "What the hell goes on?" she demanded in a voice thick with rage and fright.

  "Shut up," Gomez snarled, and went on reading.

  "Chivalry in the twentieth century," I said sadly. "Never mind. Relax, beautiful, and wait until the great man has read his paper."

  Lois lay back regarding Gomez with glittering, furious eyes.

  He got through reading the newspaper, slung it down.

  "The rat I" he said, clenching his fists, then remembering I was still with him, went on, "What do you want?"

  "Ed. and I don't get along either," I said. "I thought you might feel like doing something about it."

  He stared at me for a moment, then lay back. "Such as what?"

  "Are you crazy?" Lois demanded furiously. "Why do you let this heel sit on our bed like this? Hit him! Do something!"

  Gomez, snarling, slapped her face, got out of bed. "Come into the other room where we can talk," he said. "Women drive me nuts."

  I looked at the telephone by the bed, shook my head. "This blue-eyed twist might get ideas," I said. "I'll keep you both where I can watch you."

  Gomez jerked the extension plug from the wall, picked up the telephone and walked across the room.

  "I want to talk," he said. "She wants to fight. We'll get nowhere if she's in on the conversation."

  "I'll make you pay for this!" Lois stormed. "You can't talk to me like this, you—you gigolo!"

  He stepped to the bed.

  "Shut up!" he snarled.

  "Well, come on," I said impatiently. "If you want to talk, let's talk."

  He glared at Lois for a moment, then joined me at the door. Lois started warming up the room with some fancy cursing, but we shut the door and left her to it.

  Gomez sat down in an easy chair in the outer room. He ran his fingers through his long oily hair, eyed me the way a snake eyes its first meal after hibernation, said, "Just where do you figure in all this?"

  "Killeano's coming after you, buddy," I said, lighting a cigarette. "He knows the only way he can get re-elected is to show the electors that he can handle boys like you. Flaggerty getting knocked off was a break for him. It's given him a chance to show his power. He's sold you out. He'll sell all the other bright boys out too. But you can stop him, if you want to."