I'll Get You For This

  "I can stop him all right," Gomez said, clenching his fists. "And I don't want any help or suggestions from you."

  "You boys always work the same way," I said, shrugging. "You figure you'll lay for Ed., and fill him full of hot metal. But you won't get near him. He knows you'll come gunning for him, and he'll take precautions. I bet you don't set eyes on him until after the election; then it'll be too late."

  Gomez chewed his under-lip, frowning.

"Well, what's your idea, then?"

  "An easy way to fix Killeano would be to call at 46 Waterside between eleven-thirty and twelve tonight," I said. "Maybe you didn't know Ed. relaxed in that joint. He has a private room

  in the basement, and his mob goes with him. I don't suppose they'll worry you much, will they?"

  He brooded, then stood up. "If that's all you can suggest," he said, "you can beat it. And the next time you snoop into this apartment without being invited, you'll be carried out feet first."

  "I'm scared," I said, went to the door, opened it, paused. "If you did find Killeano in that cathouse, it'd look good in the press, wouldn't it? Jed Davis would print all the dirt you gave him so long as you gave him proof. I can't see Ed. being re-elected if that kind of news broke on the morning of the election, can you?"

  "Get out," he said.

  I went.

6

  On the outskirts of Paradise Palms a few tumbled-down huts, side by side, sprawled into the darkness. Further along, standing alone, was the only building of importance.

  Over its arched doorway, a sign flickered against the night sky. Forty-six.

  I had parked the Mercury convertible in a vacant lot some way back, and I approached the building cautiously, keeping in the shadows. Through the open doorway I could hear dance music. The shuttered windows revealed chinks of light.

  A man moved out of the shadows, came towards me. I stopped, waited, my liand on my gun butt.

  It was Hoskiss.

  "Hi, G-man," I said. "Seen this morning's Morning Star?"

  "Oh, it's you," he said, peering at me. "Yeah, I saw it all light. I bet Killeano's doing a little thinking."

"I bet you are too," I said. "All ready for some relaxation?"

  "I'm ready to go in," he said, eyeing the building dubiously. "But I'd like to know what's cooking."

  "You will," I said, "only don't rush me. How many boys did you bring?"

  "Six. That enough?"

  "I hope so. Tell 'em to keep out of sight. We may not need them, but if we do, they'll have plenty on their hand. While they're waiting they can make themselves useful. I want the telephone in this joint cut off. Can they fix the outside lines?"

  "I guess so," he said. "What's the idea?"

  "I don't want anyone to tip the cops if trouble starts. We'll have enough on our hands without a load of corrupt Law busting in on us."

  "I hope you know what you're doing," Hoskiss said. He sounded worried.

  "After the way I handed you those Cubans I think you might exercise a little faith," I said.

  "You'd make a swell salesman," Hoskiss said, resigned. "I'll tell them."

  I waited. After a while he came back.

  "They'll fix it," he said. "Do we go in?"

  "We go in," I said. "You got a gun?"

  "Yeah," he returned. "I hope you have a permit."

  I grinned, walked to the open door, went in.

  Inside, under dim lights, was a bar and a dance floor. In a corner, on a yellow and red carpet, an orchestra of four played: a pianist with kinky hair, a sallow-faced fiddler, a nigger drummer and a blond saxophonist. Behind the bar stood a Cuban.

  Several couples moved listlessly around the dance floor. The men looked the type you'd expect to find in a joint like this; the girls danced in their underwear. Each had on a brassiere, silk panties, silk stockings and high-heeled slippers. There was a line of flesh on each girl from breast to hip and from one-third down their thighs to their knees. Some of the girls were quite pretty.

  The air in the room was torrid, heavy, humid; a combination of human sweat, dime-a-squirt perfume, gin breath. Paper streamers hung from the ceiling like Spanish moss.

  We handed our hats to a Chinese boy, and paused to get our bearings.

  I glanced at my wrist-watch. It was ten minutes past eleven.

  "For the next twenty minutes, you can relax. At eleven-thirty we start work."

  "Look at those dames," Hoskiss said, gaping. "So this is what the vice-squad calls work. Say, I might even enjoy myself." He eyed a tall blonde in sheer black silk underwear, who was leaning against the bar, a bored expression on her face. "I don't suppose I can come to much harm in twenty minutes. Let's buy a drink."

  "That's the worst of bringing a repressed type like you to a joint like this," I said, grinning. "You're likely to make a meal of it."

  "I'm not blasé," he said, heading for the bar.

  The blonde watched us come. Her wide, painted mouth smiled. She had good teeth, but when I was close to her, I noticed she had pimples on her back.

  "Hello, honey," she said to Hoskiss as he sailed up.