Cathy glanced round at him.
The man, six-five, broad and smiling, reached out with a lighter. ‘Your cigarette,’ he said, ‘allow me.’
Cathy nodded. ‘Thanks, Lester.’
‘You going anywhere special today, Miss Higgins?’
Cathy shook her head. ‘Nothing planned.’
‘Now ain’t that just the best way though?’ Lester said, smiling over at the elderly couple as they climbed into their cab.
Cathy remained there in the shadows and said nothing, blowing a thin trail of smoke from her lips.
‘You mind if I just stand here a while?’ she said. ‘Just stand here and do nothing? I won’t bother anybody.’
‘I don’t mind one bit at all,’ Lester said. ‘What a pleasure.’
Cathy nodded, drawing on the cigarette again. Her voice almost cracked when she said it: ‘Thanks.’
13
Some miles out of town John Rader was in the Moonlight Motel thinking about those names Jill mentioned back in the roadhouse. Merlino was interesting. But so was that other name—not Skylar’s girlfriend, if that’s who she was, but Tony Duncan, a man from Pittsburgh. It was the mob connection that concerned him most of all.
Rader knew that it was almost certainly the same Tony Duncan he’d heard of among the criminal fraternity, but he couldn’t place him with a crew. And he needed to be sure before he got in any deeper. If Duncan was part of a crime family, like the Del Pasquas in Columbus, Ohio, then it could mean a troubling link to the hotel. Even if he wasn’t, it didn’t remove the mob danger from this case. His client would still be wondering if he’d decided to take it, and what progress he’d made. Rader needed to address that fast. So he phoned Stan Bellows down in Brink City.
‘John, I’m glad you called. You know I never know how to find you,’ Bellows said, a PA system droning in the background. ‘I was just thinking: How the hell do I call that guy? You got no office, and you’re always changing phones.’
‘We’re talking now,’ Rader said. ‘Where are you?’
‘Jack Thistledown. You remember all that money? The two G?’
‘What about it?’
‘Gone. It coulda been so good. Never trust a horse.’
‘You heard of Tony Duncan?’ Rader said.
‘What? Is that a—what race?’
‘It’s not a racing tip,’ Rader said. ‘I’m talking about the enforcer. You know that name?’
Bellows was silent a moment. ‘Yeah, actually I do, John. That’s a tough, brutal man. Jesus, what brought this on?’
‘Who is he with, Stan?’
‘He was in LA a few years. Lately he does some work for Saul Berkowitz—I’ve heard that much. Palled about with a few of the guys. But he ain’t crew, you know? Just kinda young, free and single. I make it my business to keep the fuck away from guys like that.’
Rader wondered if Cathy’s latest beau knew much of that. He said, ‘You don’t hear anything about him with the Del Pasquas?’
‘No.’
‘You been to Torrent City?’
‘Sure, I stayed there on my way down from Cleveland one time when I got car trouble.’
‘The new hotel?’
‘Marquis Vanguard, what a place. So I hear. And that could be a cozy little home from home to Mr. Berkowitz. It’s not long open, I believe, but give him time.’
Rader nodded, thinking. ‘Marquis and Berkowitz,’ he said. And then, before he got to it, Bellows said:
‘That’s what I hear, John. But what do I know about life in Torrent City? You wanna know what’s interesting, though?’ Bellows said. ‘Saul Berkowitz is pretty close to Paul Gallo.’
Rader was already thinking that he should phone Yvonne right now, tell her the case was dead. It had to be; just wasn’t worth the risk of meddling with any crime syndicate for a client consumed by the urge to harm an ex-lover. No PI would take her money for that; didn’t matter how much she offered. As it was, Rader couldn’t return there, while Marquis Vanguard security were on heightened alert in Torrent City. He’d known a few jobs like this in the past: by doing very little, not much more than showing up in town and asking a few questions, the whole thing had turned bad, within a day.
Yet something about it still interested Rader—and angered him. Walking away, telling her it was a wreck before it even got going... It was the second time he’d thought that way. Usually it didn’t get as far as a second time. Then he remembered the journalist, Sylvia Merlino. She offered a different angle, one that could cut closer to the heart of the hotel boss’s life whilst avoiding any syndicate connections. It couldn’t hurt to follow that lead up, even if it took him nowhere. Nothing could be worse than that job he just completed for Albert Berman.
Another PA system droned over the phoneline.
Bellows said, ‘John, we been cut off?’
‘That two G you mentioned,’ Rader said.
‘What about it, John? You know it feels like I just got here, and already I’m wondering how I’m even gonna gas up tomorrow to get back home.’
‘Get away from the noise,’ Rader said. ‘There’s a name that’s on my mind right now.’
All was quiet on the end of the phone, except for the background drone, which faded. Then Bellows, panting a little, said, ‘I’m listening, John. Now what are the details? And how much dough we talking? Did I tell you I’m real glad that you phoned?’
Rader said, ‘You didn’t have to.’
While Rader waited for Stan Bellows to make some calls about Sylvia Merlino, he phoned Jill and asked her if she was home yet.
‘Just back. Man, it’s hot this week. Cool shower sounds good about now.’
‘After you wash, there’s a folder I left. Got a few notes there, including her number.’
‘Sure, I’ll get it now.’
‘I’m not ready to phone yet,’ Rader said. ‘Once you give me the number, shred the notes.’
Jill paused. ‘You’re taking it on, and there’s some vague detail that you’d rather make concrete before you get her all excited for nothing.’
‘More or less.’
‘You don’t need the notes?’ Jill said.
‘No.’
‘Isn’t that like tossing the rules before the game is done?’
‘There are no rules,’ Rader said. ‘Just a certain type of logic that I’m still working out.’
‘No rules the way she plays it.’
Rader said, ‘A zero-sum game, maybe.’
‘Maybe,’ Jill said. ‘If she’s lucky.’
Jill doubted that John Rader kept a file on many clients. It would bother him, to accumulate, to amass anything; there was also the sensitive nature of cases, even before they turned sour. The file on Yvonne Thornwood, lying among some of his clothes in her closet, was unmarked, as per his regular habit with jobs considered sensitive. It wasn’t that he anticipated any comeback on the case, just that he would keep potentially incriminating details to a minimum. He didn’t explain this to her; he didn’t explain any of the details of his working style. She just got it, and Jill assumed that was part of the reason why they were still in some kind of a relationship.