The Soft Centre

As Terrell was sitting down at the table, reaching for the carving knife and fork, the front door bell rang. He grinned at his wife.

‘That’s Max. Put a plate for him. He must have bust every speed record in the State.’

Max Jacobs, a lean, tall, first-year cop, came into the lounge and looked with round eyes at the perfectly cooked chicken. Terrell pointed with the carving knife to a chair.

‘We’ll eat first,’ he said, ‘then talk. I have a job for you.’

Later, when Caroline was washing up, Terrell, his pipe drawing well, told Jacobs about Val Burnett.

‘Looks like a blackmail set up,’ he concluded. ‘We can’t move in unless she calls us, but we can be ready. I want you to be outside the bank at nine o’clock tomorrow morning. When Mrs. Burnett leaves, make sure she has the money with her and then follow her. Now look, Max, it is vitally important she gets no idea you are following her, so watch your step. Find out where she takes the money. If she goes back to her hotel, see Dulac and tell him you’re from me. Ask him to let you know if anyone goes up to her suite. If anyone does, follow whoever it is. Don’t consult the hotel detective, I don’t trust him. Got all that?’

Jacobs nodded.?‘Okay, Chief, I’ll handle it,’ and he got to his feet. ‘I’ll be on the job at nine tomorrow.’ When he had gone, Terrell called police headquarters. He asked Beigler if there was any news yet of Jacko Smith.

‘Nothing so far, Chief,’ Beigler said. ‘I’m getting reports continually, but he isn’t in his usual haunts.’

‘Send out a State alarm,’ Terrell said. ‘I want him fast. Turn the heat on, Joe. I’m coming down.’

‘Okay,’ Beigler said, ‘but you don’t have to come down. I can handle it.’ ‘I know you can,’ Terrell said, ‘but I’m coming.’

*****

Spike Calder was a tall, emaciated Negro with flat, snake’s eyes and a perpetual grin that revealed big, gleaming white teeth. He ran the Bo-Bo Club on the waterfront that was frequented by queers and gamblers from the dock quarter of Miami.

The big advantage of the club was that it had a secret room for meetings below the main bar and restaurant, so cunningly hidden that the police hadn’t so far discovered it.

Spike put down the cocktail mixer and eyed the two men cautiously. So far he had never been in trouble with the police, and if he could avoid it, he was determined to steer clear of police trouble.

‘Evenin’, gents,’ he said with an expansive smile. ‘What’ll you have?’?‘Seen Jacko Smith?’ Marshall asked. He was a short, heavily built man with muscles of a boxer and a hard, battered face.

‘Not yet,’ Spike lied. ‘Maybe he’ll be in in a little while, but he hasn’t shown yet.’

Lepski, thin, wiry and tough, leaned against the bar Counter.?‘Listen, Smokey, think twice before you open that drain in your face,’ he said softly. ‘We’re looking for Jacko … could be a murder charge. If you know where he is, now’s the time to flex your tonsils and sing. If we find he’s here or he’s been here, you’re going inside. I’d like to work you over. The best sound in this stinking town to me is the moans of a black boy.’

Spike’s smile slipped a little.?‘I’d tell you if he was here. Look around, mister, and see for yourself. I haven’t seen him since yesterday night.’

The two police officers looked around the big room and then at each other.?‘If he comes in, call headquarters. That way you’ll keep out of trouble.’

Lepski stared at Spike for a long cruel moment, then jerking his head at Marshall, he left the bar.

Moe, hidden in the shadows, watched the two police officers walk down the street and enter yet another gambling cellar.

Like a black ghost, he slid across the street and down the back entrance to the Bo-Bo Club. He paused long enough to listen and make sure there was no one about, then he fumbled for the hidden catch that opened the door into the secret room, slipped into darkness, shut the door, then switched on the light. As he came down the stairs leading into the room where Jacko Smith was lolling, Spike Calder came in from the other hidden entrance.

Moe looked at Spike, his eyes alert. Spike ignored Moe and walked over to Jacko.?‘On your way,’ Spike said softly. ‘Up with the fat and dust.’

Jacko stared at him.?‘You don’t talk that way to me, black boy.’ he said furiously. ‘When I want to go, I’ll go, but not before.’

‘You’ll heave the guts out right now,’ Spike said. ‘The cops have been here. They’re looking for you. I don’t cover anyone as hot as you, Jacko. On your way.’

Moe said, ‘He stays right here.’ He had his broad bladed knife in his hand. ‘You want me to carve you a little, nigger?’

Spike smiled.?‘You’ll have to grow a lot bigger and a lot tougher to carve me,’ he said. ‘Try it and see,’ and a long stabbing knife jumped into his hand.

Moe snarled at him and began to move forward.?‘Stop it!’ Jacko said sharply.

Moe slid the knife back into its sheath. He moved further away from Spike to give himself the chance to get the knife out again should Spike show signs of attacking him.