Once the girls were reassured I'd keep my promise and not go to work for Judy Roberts, they left. I also promised Ruth I wouldn't let anyone know she'd told me about Kalman Albert. And since she wanted to collect that extra grand from him, she wasn't gonna let him know she'd mentioned his name to me.
Logic dictated I forget about Albert and his murder club. I had been paid off by Judy Roberts. I had stopped the man who had tried to kill her while keeping my own name clean. But I wasn't always a logical guy. I mean, Cy Roberts would probably ask to have some other member of the club knock off his wife. Whether or not he would attempt to rub out Joan Randall by trying to fuck her to death was a moot point. He wouldn't be able to do it, even though he didn't realize it.
That brought up a few more interesting questions. For instance, why would the murder club convince Roberts to try fucking Joan Randall to death knowing it couldn't be done? Hell, I'd been over this ground before. The way I saw it, Judy Roberts would still have to meet with an "accident" so Cy Roberts could inherit her money. Then Cy would be conveniently removed, probably by the unsuspecting Joan Randall who would eventually give him a heart attack, and then all the money would go to Raquel Roberts. Ergo, someone had to have a heavy interest in Raquel Roberts, and it would be up to me to find out who that person was. But I'd have to do it without word getting back to Kalman Albert, who had used Cassandra Lamb and Ruth Bennet to convince me not to work for Judy Roberts. Well, hell! I wasn't working for Judy Roberts. From here on in I was working for myself, protecting my integrity. I mean, I knew Judy Roberts was still slated for deadsville. So it was up to me to make sure she didn't get there.
All the village buildings and departments were closed, what with it being Saturday. So any info I dug up on Albert would have to be from my own stoolie sources.
My pet source of information was eating lunch in the same joint where I'd had a hamburger the previous day. He was slopping some kind of greasy soup down his throat with loud zzzips. For ten bucks, Andy Durslag, a little bald old man of seventy-nine told me what I wanted to know.
Kalman Albert was squiring Raquel Roberts all over New York City and Long Island. He wasn't being too open about it so the newspaper society columns hadn't known about it, but it was no secret Albert, himself single, was looking for a wealthy hook-up. Durslag couldn't understand why Albert had picked on Raquel Roberts. She was far from wealthy. But I knew why.
"Hey," the old man said before I could ponder anything more. "Y'oughtta know Albert has the hots for another broad, as well. She's got even less dough than the Roberts woman. Not only that, but she's always cold concerning cock. Yet Albert is nuts about the broad. Almost all the loot he earns he spend to keep her happy."
"Yeah? Who is she, Andy?"
"Moira Evergrad, sister of our village's chief of police, Mitch Evergrad."
There was the cop connection I was sure existed. Mitch Evergrad, the big cop in Elton, was the brother of Moira Evergrad, for whom Kalman Albert had the hots. Evergrad probably had one or two of the Seabrook cops in his hip pocket. If anyone'd know it would be Andy Durslag.
"Evergrad chummy with any of the Seabrook cops?" I asked.
"He helped two hothead punks on the Seabrook force keep their badges once. Otherwise they'd have been kicked off for sure. Lessee, one was Tom Roina, and the other was Paul Guida. They owe him, and he never let's 'em forget. Anytime he needs a little roughing up to be done, rather than use any of the boys on his own force, he calls in Guida and Roina. They're the nastiest sons of bitches on all of Long Island."
"Thanks, Andy," I said, giving him another ten.
"For you, and twenty bucks, anytime, Fokker. You're straight. Here's a free word of advice. Stay away from those guys. They not only play rough, but for keeps. Any time Evergrad doesn't like someone hard enough, that someone always disappears."
"I dig. See you around, old man."
I left Durslag and I was feeling more than a little uncomfortable. Judy Roberts would definitely be rubbed out, and if I attempted to interfere in any way, Kalman Albert would tell Mitch Evergrad to see to it I didn't interfere in anything again. The chief pig would send his two Seabrook goons after me. So either I stepped aside and let Judy Roberts be erased, or I pulled Chief Ever-grad's fangs, then put him in a compromising position where he wouldn't be able to do a goddman thing for Albert.
All this had to be done before Monday, when the murder club had its next meeting. Because once I had Evergrad sewn up, and I exposed the murder club, Evergrad would want the credit for opening the worm can himself. I mean, if I left Evergrad no chance for keeping his own skin clean, he'd behave like a cornered tiger. He had to come out of this smelling like a rose, even if it meant arresting Kalman Albert, his sister's future husband.
The way I had it figured, once Joan Roberts was knocked off and everything went to Cy Roberts, he would be the next victim. Once Raquel Roberts inherited all that loot, Kalman Albert would marry her and she would meet with a convenient accident. Then, after a reasonable mourning period, Albert would marry Moira Evergrad, and along with her brother Mitch they would all live happily ever after on all that money. Evergrad, having no need for the murder club any longer, would normally have its members quietly removed, probably by Roina and Guida.
My first step had to be to render the two rogue cops harmless. Scum like Roina and Guida gave the police a really bad name, and the police didn't need the kind of publicity they would generate. Since cop-killing, even rogue cop-killing is frowned upon by all kinds of law enforcement officers, I had to find a way to discredit both men, and in a hurry. I figured my best bet in this case would be Debbie. And I was willing to bet she could handle both by herself.
It being Saturday, Ronnie Byrd wasn't behind the desk at the Elton Hotel. Instead, the weekend man, Drew Farker was there. He and I used to kid around about our last names. He was Farker and I was Fokker.
Farker was about five feet ten, with an almost blond, wispy mustache. He liked his beer, and I never ceased to marvel that such a suds guzzler could stay so thin. He had a quart bottle of Schaefer with him, and he was sipping from it when I walked in.
"Ira babe," he greeted. "How's the boy?"
"Just great, Drew, just great. Debbie upstairs?"
"She's still asleep. Had a heavy night last night."
"I have some additional business for her. I don't think she'll mind if I wake her."
"Isn't it kinda early in the day for that sorta thing?"
"It's never too early, Drew baby."
I climbed the stairs and found Debbie's room on the second floor. She never kept the door locked. A thief would have been able to pick the lock. A cop would have broken the door down. And anyone else meant extra business. She'd never turn away business. True, she locked the door while "working," but she never let work interfere with a good night's sleep. She was one chick who slept alone, when she finally went to sleep.
Opening the door, I could tell Debbie'd had one helluva busy night. The smell of sex was still heavy in the air because she'd kept her windows closed. Not even the tiny air conditioner could remove the stale odor of sweat, semen and dried pussy juice permeating the atmosphere of the room. Debbie was nakedly sprawled on her bed with the covers flung off to the side. Despite the light sheen of perspiration it was obvious she had showered before going to bed. Her body was fastidiously clean.
I woke her gently, and she smiled, seeing me.
"Hi," she greeted. "Y'mean I was so good yesterday you've come back f'more?"
"This time I've come to throw business your way," I told her. "D'you mind working on a couple of cops?"
"Hell, Fokker, I can't make money from cops. Evergrad gets part of my pay as it is. In order to stay in business, I have to put out for all the Elton cops for free."
"These aren't Elton cops. They work in Seabrook. They're chummy with Evergrad, and they'll probably figure on using you for nothing. But I have a feeling they're gonna pay and pay and pay."
"You've always been good to me," she smiled. "A lot of other guys have used me and then called me all kinds of names afterward, Evergrad included. Not you. You've always treated me like a lady.
"You are a lady, Debbie. As far as I'm concerned there's nothing dishonest about the way you earn your living. You give value for the money."
"Want to set your videotape equipment up in here?" she asked.
"Use the same room I had set up yesterday. No use letting those two prigs know which room is really yours."
"So how do we get them to come here?" she asked.
"Simple," I replied, and outline my plan to her.
"From what you tell me they're both sadists," she replied when I'd finished talking.
"Yeah, but you're a source of income to Evergrad, so they can't afford to hurt you. Once they bring you back here and take you to the other room, they'll realize they're in Elton territory, where Mitch Evergrad collects from everyone."
"Okay," she finally agreed.
"And when I show 'em the pictures, letting 'em know there's a copy of the tape being sent to the D.A.'s office, especially if I don't phone a certain person every hour, they'll shell out everything in their pockets to you before taking off for parts unknown."
"You are a devious bastard, aren't you," she smiled.
"When dealing with scum like these boys, I have to be."
"What time?" she asked.
"When it's dark, say about nine o'clock. These guys always take a night shift. That's when they can get away with beating up all the so-called criminals they apprehend. They jockey a squad car together. I'll find out what routes they cover. Get some sleep. I'll pick you up here at about nine.
"Okay," she yawned, and turning over, went back to sleep.
I left as quietly as possible. It was time for lunch. Then I'd rest to build my strength for the oncoming night.