Transcript

Chapter 7 · Bullet Proof

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Chapter seven of bullet Proof by Frank Kine thes LibriVox Recordings in the public Domain
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read by Ben Tucker. Chapter seven. The room was half dark when Johnny
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Lidell awoke. The alarm clock was ringing. There was a dark brown,
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fuzzy taste in his mouth that refused to be washed away by the tap water.
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He ran another glass of water, held it to his head. The
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clock on the kitchen wall said two o'clock. Muggsy Chelly stirred uneasily on the
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couch, moaned softly in her sleep Lydell splashed water in his face, swapped
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it dry with a towel, ran a comb through his hair. He turned
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out all the lights, found his hat on the end table, kissed Muggsy
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softly, and left. The bright Light's tavern was a garishly lighted honky tonk
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on forty seventh Street, east of Broadway. The normal flow of traffic along
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the street had dribbled to an occasional vague eyed pedestrian, the type that had
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given the block the nickname of dream Alley. A group of heavily painted hustlers
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with three fresh faced, eager but drunken sailors in tow a mounted cop rode
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by his horse's hoof, striking hollow clinks in the emptiness of the street.
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Lydell took up his position outside the tavern, waited. It was almost twenty
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five minutes before he heard the trademark of the blind Beggar, a discordant guitar
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and strident, nasally off key voice doing unmentionable things to a mountain chant.
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After a moment, he came into Lydell's line of vision, a little man,
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a silver glint of bristles on his chin, a tin cup wired to
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the neck of his guitar, his eyes covered with a pair of opaque black
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glasses. He finished the song a few paces before he reached Lydell continued to
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shuffle along, coaxing a terrifying assortment of discords from the guitar as he went.
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When he was abreast of Lydell, he lowered his face as though to
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get protection from the wind. Give me a few minutes inside, then come
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in after me, Seamus, he muttered, with no apparent movement of his
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lips. Lydell gave no sign of having heard. Sucked deeply on the butt
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he held cupped in his hand, consulted as wife, which as though impatient
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over a stand up. The beggar shuffled by entered the tavern. A mixture
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of conversation and jukebox music spilled out into the street. As he opened the
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door, Lydell continued to smoke, finished a cigarette, flipped it toward the
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gutter. The mounted cop rode by again, stared at him in curiously continued
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east toward fifth Lydell consulted his watch again, then turned and entered the tavern.
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The bright Light's Tavern got a good late hour play by servicemen. Bar
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girls of all sizes and vintage were working the sailors and marines that lined the
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bar too deep. On the way in, Lydell was almost bumped by a
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buxom redhead leading a sailor. She was back in ten minutes without the sailor.
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As Lydell walked in, a heavily bleached woman sitting in a booth near
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the door studied him speculatively passed an unseen signal. Almost immediately, the girls
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drifted away from their prospects and headed for the ladies room, or found seats
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together in a booth. Lydell walked through the blue white haze of cigarette smoke
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found a place at the bar ordered bourbon. The bartender grabbed a bottle from
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the back bar, slid a shot glass in front of him, filled it
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to the brim all in one motion. I see a by particular mysta.
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He studied Lydell, with pig like eyes that were almost obscured by the scar
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tissue of hundreds of ring battles such as Lydell asked. The bartender shrugged Bulky's
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shoulders. Lil, maybe big lil. She handles the local boys on this
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spot, He indicated the bleach blonde with a toss of his head. Lydell
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swung around, saw the woman studying him, walked over to where she sat.
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The bartender thought, I wanted to see you. Should I from close?
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The woman was old, her make up a stiff mask covered with indifferent
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success, the sag and wrinkle of age. Her eyes were bright and hard,
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her hair thinned by constant exposure to chemicals. Her lipstick was glaring,
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smeared, her teeth nicotine stained. What's the beef we're paid up to date?
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You got me wrong. I have no beef. I just got cold
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waiting out there for a babe that never showed. He held up his drink.
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I came in to get thawed out. The bright eyes rolled in the
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dead white of the old woman's face. You're not the law Lydel grinned.
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I was wondering why you called time out. He shook his head. I'm
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no copper. The woman studied his face, looked past him to the bartender,
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nodded. The bartender reached up on the back bar, turned a beer
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ad face to the wall. Almost immediately, the girls resumed their stations at
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the bar, pushing drinks and mixing with the service men. Sorry, mister,
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the old woman croaked. You can't be too careful around now, with
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all these blue noses yelling for action. You never know when they're gonna by
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past the local station house and send in a fly cop. She folded,
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blue vein faded hands in front of her on the table. Can't be too
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careful, Lydel nodded. Started back toward the bar. Spotted the blind man
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sitting in a booth at the rear of the room. He ambled down,
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slid in beside him. Mind if I join you? Pop? The blind
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man bared his gums and a cackle through, scaring the girl's hey Lidell.
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He peered near sightedly at the glass in Lydel's hand, signal for the bartender.
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You're buying, ain't you? Lydel grinned, nodded. I thought you
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were blind, just during business hours. He grinned up into the bartender's battered
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face as he came toward the table. Man wants to buy, kid,
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Let's get it on the table before it changes his mind. A couple of
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brew I'm drinkin bourbon, Lydell told him, okay, so you tuck me
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into it. I'll drink both the bruise. The bartender twisted his thickened lips
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and a grin. You could fool me, buster. I thought she was
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a new flatty on the beat too. He was back in a few seconds
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with two beers. Picked up the dollar bill Lydel laid on the table,
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dropped two quarters a diamond, two Nichols, shuffled back to the bar.
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The blind man tilted his glass to his lips, approved the brew, audibly
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drained the glass, set it down, thirsty work pounding that beat all night.
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He looked inquiringly at the other glass, drew a nod from Lidell,
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pulled it over with a toothless grin, work up, quiet at theirs that
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you do. Dummy's a tough bas eh. The beggar took a swallow from
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the second glass, wiped his mouth with his sleeve. Take a beat away
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from you soon as you look at you an the way he's got this town
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organized. If you lose a beat, you might as well go to work.
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You couldn't make a dime panhandling. He's got it sewed up that tight
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lydell nodded, tossed off his bourbon, set the glass down. How buy
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my merchandise? Got it lined up for you? The blind man nodded.
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Only he ain't even be easy to get at it. Where is he?
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Cross the street? Hotel sert he's got an office there. Lydel made concentric
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circles on the table top with the wet bottom of the glass. Nodded.
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I shouldn't be too tough. Think again, it ain't an ordinary hotel.
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The old man looked around, dropped his voice. Most of these girls are
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syndicate girls. The sirt is where the syndicate has its headquarters. That's where
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cupola is. What room you still want to go up against him? On
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his own home grounds? There was a note of respect in the beggar's voice.
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What room, third floor front? He put a hand on Lydel's arm,
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kept him from getting up. He's got a lookout staked in the lobby
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and another on the third floor. He'd never make it. I can make
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a damn good try at it. The old man shook his head. You
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wouldn't get past the lobby. You got to use your head on this one.
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There's ways of doing it, and shooting your way in ain't one of
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them. Lydell grunted, settled back. You've got an idea. I'll get
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you past the gun in the lobby. Give him past the one on the
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third floors. Your problem, okay, Lydell nodded, how are you gonna
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do it? Man grinned obscenely looked past Lidell signaled one of the girls.
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She pasted a wide mouthed grin on her face, sauntered down to the booth,
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slid in across from Lydell. She couldn't have been over twenty five,
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but already there was a fine network of lines under her eyes. Her make
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up was losing the first skirmishes of what would soon develop into a battle with
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the crows feet around her eyes and at the sight of her mouth. Her
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hair was raven black, parted in the center, allowed to cascade down over
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her shoulders on to the white satin blouse that made a half hearted attempt to
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disguise the shapeliness of her breasts. She looked lidel over approvingly, fluffed her
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hair over her shoulder with flame shellacked fingers. Who's your friend, pop?
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Her voice was throaty, husky, not unpleasant. I'm Lorraine, she told
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lydel he's in from the coast. Laurie doesn't know anybody here. Come over
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to buy an old man a drink. The old man lowered his voice.
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He couldn't keep his eyes off you, So I'm returning to favor by introducing
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him. The girl regarded lydell from under lowered lids. He doesn't look like
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a guy who'd have to wait to be introduced. Her eyes approved the gray
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tinged hair, the bulky shoulders. Maybe it's too public here, eh,
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Laurie. The old man winked obscenely. Maybe he don't like an audience.
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Why don't we go across to my place. The girl's voice fell automatically into
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a commercial sing song. She smiled mechanically at lidel We can be alone over
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there. I could pick up a bottle here an we could have a drink
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or two if you like. Sounds good to me. Lydell pulled a roll
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of bills from his pocket, separated at a tin, passed it to the
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girl. You handle the bottle part, will you? The hard ready smile
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was back. She slid out of the booth started for the rear. Lydell
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noticed that the wary lines in her face had no counterpart in her body.
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She stood about five six, weighed about a hundred twenty eight, and not
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an ounce of it was misplaced or unaccounted for. After she had disappeared through
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the door in the rear, Lydel growled, what's the idea? You know
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what I'm after? Why not mix business with pleasure? The old man cackled,
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You have to get past the gun and the lobby, don't ye,
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Well, what's better way than to have one of the syndicate goals passed you
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through as a john? Then all you gotta do is get past the guard
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on the third floor. Lydell considered it, nodded, not bad. Pop
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got any ideas about how I get past the one on the third floor.
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Well. One of the reasons I picked Laurie for you is because she's got
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fourth floor front. The guy he wants third floor front. From here on
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in, the rest is up to you. There was no mistaking in the
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guard in the lobby of the hotel's sert. He was thin shouldered, sunken
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cheeked. An immaculate pearl gray fedora sat on top of his head, its
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rolled brim parallel to the cold button eyes, the bloodless slid of his lips.
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The collar of his camel's hair coat was up. There was no tie
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on the gray silk sports shirt he wore with his blue flannel suit. The
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black eyes flicked contemptuously over Lydell as the girl led him to the registration desk.
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A pudgy little man with wet, pouting lips stood behind the desk.
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His bulging eyes had a disconcerting habit of appearing to roll from side to side
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as he talked. His skin was blotchy, his hair obviously marceled. He
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favored Lydell with what he obviously intended to be a provocative glance. The girl
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laughed right in his face, bringing patches of color. If I knew you
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cared, I would have gotten another and we could have had a double date,
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she taunted. The pudgy man's eyes rolled, his pouting lips trembled.
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A bubble formed between them as he spoke. I don't have to stand for
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any of that from you, he spat out indignantly. The girl winked at
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Lidel placed the bottle on the desk. We'll want some ice in soda,
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and don't bother bringing it yourself. The pudgy man rode a slip with a
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hand that shook, threw it across the bar. The room is ten dollars
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in advance, he told Lydell, between murderous glances at the girl. Lydell
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peeled a tin from his roll, dropped it on the desk. The girl
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winked again at the pudgyman. Caught Lydell by the arm led him toward an
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old, open grill work elevator. A pimply faced operator grinned vacuously at her
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as they got in, started the ancient contraption wheezing upward. As they passed
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the third floor, Lydell had a momentary glimpse of the twin to the guard
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in the lobby. The same camel's hair coat, the same gray door at
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the same angle, the same blue flannel suit and gray sports shirt. He
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sat in a wooden arm chair that commanded a view of the staircase and elevator
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well. He paid no attention to the elevator as it wheezed past him.
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On the fourth floor. The elevator creaked to a shuddering stop. The operator
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slid the grill work door back with a shrill creak, watched hungrily as the
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girl led Lydell down a long, bare, semi dark corridor of closed doors.
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There was the occasional mutter of low conversation, a shrill, drunken laugh.
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Lydell wrinkled his nose at the strong odor compounded half of cheap perfume and
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half of perspiration. The girl stopped in front of the ind door on the
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left side of the long hallway, opened it, led the way in.
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She indicated the rickety old iron bed, the stand, and two chairs with
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the sweep of her hand. It ain't much, but it's home. She
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pulled the door closed behind her, came close to him, looked up into
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his face, Going to be in town, Long, honey, long enough
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Lightell grunted the girl looked piqued by his failure to draw her any closer.
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The ice will be right up, honey, the professional term of endearment failed
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to wipe away the peak. Make yourself at home, Lydell wandered around the
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room. Stopped at the window. He raised the shade, looked down into
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the darkness of an alley four stories below. He caught a red pin point
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of light that glowed brightly for a moment, faded, only to glow again.
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Lydell scowled. A guard in the alley made that means of exit impossible.
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To the left, the gaunt skeleton of an iron fire escape loomed.
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Lydell swung suddenly at the sound of a knock on the door. The girl
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stood in front of a mirror, completely naked, admiring the full blown lines
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of her figure. Come in, she called. The door opened, and
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the pimply faced elevator operator sidled in pitcher of ice and two glasses on a
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tray. His watery eyes fastened on the girl as he walked across the room,
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his tongue licked wetly at his slack lips. Give him a tip,
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will you, honey? The girl called over to Lidell. He's saving his
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pennies to come see me, aren't you? Buster the elevator? Boy nodded,
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wiped his lips with the back of his hand, deftly caught the coin.
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Lydell flipped. It'll be sooner, an ye think lori. He shuffled
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to the door, turned for a last look, went through it to the
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hall beyond. Why don't you give the cad a break? Ledel grinned that
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drip. The girl wrinkled her nose. He gives me the willies. She
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caught a robe from the closet, slipped into it. How about a drink?
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Lydell nodded, walked over, started to open the bottle they had brought.
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Not that stuff, that's for the suckers. I've got some real stuff
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stashed away. She reached into the closet came out with a half filled bottle.
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Lydell sniffed at the bottle he had in his hand, wrinkled his nose.
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What's this stuff? Slops? We get half of everything we sell,
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and what's left over is used to refill bottles from the bar. She dropped
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some ice into each of the glasses, poured liquor over it, handed Lydell
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a glass. I save this for special people. What makes you think I'm
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special? The girl grinned tasted or drink. In my business, you meet
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a lot of people. You get so's. You can pick out the regulars
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and the grifters. You're not in ordinary. John out after a girl?
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What am I you tell me? The young old eyes looked him over.
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In the first place, a guy like you would never have to pay for
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a girl. What are you a cop? Lydell shook his head. What
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makes you think that big lea ain't wrong? Very often? She tagged you
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as a cop. You talked her out of it, but I'm I'm not
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so sure. She swirled the liquor over her eyes. There going to be
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a raid. Lydell dropped into a chair, caught her by the arm,
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pulled her down into his lap. I'm no cop, and there's not going
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to be any raid. His eyes dropped to the open house coat. I'm
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here on business, but you're making it awfully tough to keep my mind on
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it. The girl grinned impishly made no effort to pull the house coat closed.
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You mean you just came here to talk, that's right. Laurie reached
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up ran her fingers through his hair. What'll we talk about Frankie Cupola?
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The girl's eyes widened. She got up from his lap, finished her drink.
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Uh ah, not me. When I go swimming, I like to
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know about it. Lydel pulled himself out of his chair, walked over,
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freshened his drink, poured a stiff slug into the girl's glass. This isn't
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charity, Laurie. I pay my way. He pulled the roll of bills
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from his pocket. Who are you? Her eyes refused to leave the roll
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of bills. Private eye, Johnny Lydell's the name. I'll tell ye something
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about Frankie, and for free, stay away from him. He plays for
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keeps. She took a drink from her glass, put it down on the
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dresser, walked over to Lidell, slid her arms round his neck. Be
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smart, Johnny, She laid her cheek against his shoulder. Why not stay
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here with me instead of going out? Lookin for trouble? Lydell sighed,
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debating the urgency of seeing Cupola lost the decision. Don't make it any tougher
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on me than it is, baby, he groaned, I've got to see
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Cupola to night. The girl looked up at him, grinned ruefully. I
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must be slipping. I thought I could at least hold my own against that
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fat slob. She brushed the thick black hair back over her shoulder with a
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sweeping motion of her hand. You might get in to see him, baby,
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but you wouldn't be in any condition to see. She picked up her
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drink stared at him morosely. The gorilla on the third floor isn't some interior
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decorator's idea. He's there to discourage curious people like you. Lydel nodded.
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How about the one in the lobby a lookout? Mostly, let's Frankie know
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if anyone comes in. Frankie might not like to see, like the cops,
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for instance. And what does Frankie do? Blows? You don't think
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the only way out of this trap is through the lobby? Do you go
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on? They're getting interesting? The girl grinned, don't get your hopes up.
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Buster the escape patches at the far end of the hall. You'd still
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have to pass the guns or reach it. She looked meaningly at the bills
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in Lightel's hand. He peled off three tins, folded them, watched glumly
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while she stuck them in the house coat pocket. There's another one staked out
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in the alley. This place is about as easy to get out of as
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Alcatraz if they don't want you to leave. Lydel nodded, scowled. Where
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is the escape hatch on the third floor, Laurie? It's a back staircase
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that runs through the third door from the back. We use it to empty
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the joint in case of a raid. It comes out in an alley opening
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on forty sixth Street. Lydell pelled five tins off his roll laid it on
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the table. I need ten minutes, Laurie. The girl looked hungrily at
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the money up at Lydel for what to get, Cupola. He nodded his
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head to the window down the fire escape. What happens to me when they
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find out I wouldn't live long enough to spend it? Lydell added more bills
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to the pile. How could just stop me? I tied you up and
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gagged you. Laurie considered it. Bit her lip. They wouldn't buy that,
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But if you knocked me cold, I couldn't do anything about it.
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She looked up that cost extra Lydell counted out twenty dollars, added it to
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the money on the dresser. It's your idea, he watched while the girl
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scooped up the bills, added the money from her pocket, pulled out a
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drawer on the stand, stuck the money in the recess. Closed the drawer.
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She held up her glass drained it. As long as I'm going to
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wake up with a headache, I might as well have a reason for it.
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She replaced the glass on the stand, slipped out of the house coat,
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stood before him, naked, her eyes bright, her color high.
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I'm ready anytime you are. You call the turnbuster. She straightened up,
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closed her eyes. There must be an easier way. Lydell growled, If
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you insist on going through with it, get it over with. The girl
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urged, I'd rather get slugged by you than stop a couple of their thugs.
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She opened her eyes, looked from her nakedness to him. Unless you've
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changed your mind, the punch traveled less than twelve inches, exploded on the
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side of her jaw. The girl's eyes glazed rolled back in her head,
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her knees buckled, her body fell toward him. Lydell caught her under the
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arms, dragged her to the bed. He arranged a pillow under her head,
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threw the sheet over her body. A thin trickle of blood ran from
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the corner of her mouth. A large welt was already discoloring on the side
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of her jaw. Sorry, baby, he whispered, It had to look
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good for your sake. End of Chapter seven.