The shrilling of the telephone bell brought Joe Massino instantly awake. He snapped on the bedside lamp, looked at the clock that told him it was 03.15 and knew immediately that something had happened. No one would dare disturb his sleep unless there was an emergency.
He snatched up the receiver and swung his feet to the floor, stripping the blanket and sheet off his wife, Dina, who was coming awake with a low, moaning sound.
“Yeah?”
Massino’s voice boomed over the line.
“Boss… this is Benno. The dough’s gone. I’ve got a cracked nut. What do I do, boss?”
Massino knew Benno’s limitations: he was punch drunk, a goodamn moron, but at least he had got the message across. Massino felt a hot wave of murderous rage sweep through him, but he controlled it.
“Call the cop house, Benno,” he said. “Get them with you. I’m on my way.” He slammed down the receiver and began to strip off his pyjamas.
Dina, a blonde, heavily built woman, some fifteen years younger than her husband was now awake.
“What is it, for God’s sake? What are you doing?”
“Shut up!” Massino snarled. He shoved his legs into his trousers and not bothering for a tie, he struggled into his jacket.
“That’s a nice way to talk.” She hauled up the blanket and sheet and covered herself. “Can’t you act like a human?”
Massino left the bedroom, slamming the door after him. He hesitated for a moment, then going into his study he called Andy Lucas. He waited a long minute before Andy’s voice came on the line.
“The money’s been snatched.” Massino told him. “Get over there… get the boys,” and he hung up.
Going down to the garage, he got into the Rolls and began the three mile haul across the City to his down town office.
As he pulled up outside the office block, he saw a prowl car and Toni’s Lincoln parked by the kerb. Well, at least he was getting some action, he thought as he rode up to the sixth floor in the elevator. There were two cops standing around looking vague. They stiffened to attention when they saw Massino. Both cops worked in Massino’s district and were well looked after. They saluted as Massino stormed into Andy’s office.
Benno was sitting on a chair, blood on his face, his eyes glazed. Toni stood by the window. Ernie stood by the open safe.
“What happened?” Massino demanded, coming to rest before Benno who made an effort to stand up but promptly sat down again.
“There was a fire, boss,” he mumbled and his hand went to his head. “I opened up and there was a newspaper burning. While I was putting it out, I got clubbed.”
“Who did it?” Massino barked.
“I dunno… didn’t see no one… just got clubbed.”
Massino went to the safe, looked inside, looked at the lock, then went to the telephone. He dialled a number while Ernie, Toni, Benno and the two cops watched him.
“I want Cullen,” he said when a woman’s sleepy voice answered. “This is Massino.”
“Oh, Mr. Massino!” The woman’s voice came fully awake. “Jack is out of town. He’s attending a conference in New York.”
Massino cursed and slammed down the receiver. He took out an address book from his wallet, checked a number and dialled.
Assistant Police Commissioner Fred Zatski answered. He sounded outraged to be woken at this hour. “Who the hell is this?”
“Massino. Listen, I want this goddamn town sewn up fast: road blocks, the railroad station, the bus station and the airport. I’ve had a $186,000 steal and the bastard will try to get out of town. Get moving! Hear me! Seal the whole goddamn town!”
“Just who do you imagine you’re talking to?” Zatski bellowed.
“Alert headquarters! Don’t bother me! And listen, Massino, you may imagine you’re someone in this town, but to me, you’re just a bladder of wind,” and he hung up.
Massino’s face turned purple with rage. He yelled at the two cops, “Get moving, you hunkheads! Get someone who can do something here… hear me!”
As O’Brien, the older of the two, jumped to the telephone, Andy Lucas came in. He had obviously come in a hurry. He was wearing a jacket and trousers over his pyjamas.
He looked into the safe, then at the lock, then met Massino’s enraged eyes.
“It’s an inside job,” he said. “He’ll try to run. He had a key.”
“You telling me?” Massino snarled. “Think I’m blind! Cullen’s out of town and this bastard Zatski won’t play!”
O’Brien said, “Excuse me, Mr. Massino, Lieutenant Mulligan with the squad is on his way.”
Massino looked around the room like an enraged bull hunting a target.
“Where’s Johnny? I want my best man around me!”
“He didn’t answer when I called him,” Andy said. “He’s not at home.”
“I want him here!” Massino pointed at Toni. “Don’t stand around like a goddamn dummy… get Johnny!”
As Toni left the office, Andy said quietly, “We’d better talk, Mr. Joe.”
Massino snorted. He nodded at Ernie.
“Get Benno to hospital,” and leaving the office he crossed the passage, unlocked his office door and went in, followed by Andy.
He sat down at his desk and stared at Andy who sat on the corner of the desk.
“We’re in trouble,” Andy said. “At midday we have to pay out or there’ll be a riot. We’ve got to borrow the money, Mr. Joe, or we’re sunk. If the newspapers get hold of this the numbers will come under the limelight and Cullen will also be in trouble.”
“So?”
“Tanza is our only chance. It’ll cost, but we’ve got to go to him.”
Massino clenched his big fists but he knew Andy was talking sense. The wail of a police siren sounded.
“You handle Mulligan,” he said. “Get the town sealed off. I’ll talk to Tanza.”
“Whoever took the money is out of town by now,” Andy said, “but we’ll go through the motions.” He went out, closing the door.
Massino pulled the telephone towards him, hesitated, then dialled a number. As he did so, he looked at his desk clock. The time now was 04.25.
Carlo Tanza was the head man of the Mafia cell in town. He was just one of the many arms of the Mafia octopus: a man of power, to whom Massino paid a weekly cut on his Numbers racket, his loan shark service and his vice earnings.
Tanza answered the telephone himself. He, like Massino, had come immediately awake, knowing no telephone bell would ring in his big, opulent house at this hour unless there was an emergency and Tanza’s needle-sharp brain was always geared to meet an emergency.
He listened to what Massino had to say and produced a solution without hesitation.
“Okay, Joe. Don’t worry about the money. By ten o’clock you’ll have it for the pay-out. We’ll keep the press out of this.” A pause. “It’ll cost you. Twenty-five per cent, but you’ve got to have it, so you’ve got to pay for it.”
“Hey! Now wait!” Massino did sums in his head. This steal would cost him $46,000 out of his own pocket! “You can’t screw me that hard. I’ll pay fifteen.”
“Twenty-five,” Tanza said. “The money in your office at ten. You couldn’t get it anywhere else. Now… who did it?”
“All I know it was an inside job,” Massino said. “It’s just happened. I’ll find out who did it, you can bet your life on that! I’m having the town sealed off, but the chances are the bastard’s out by now.”
“As soon as you know, tell me,” Tanza said. “I’ll turn the organization after him. Just let me know his name and we’ll find him.”
“Yeah. It must be one of my punks. Well, thanks, Carlo. I knew I could rely on you.” A pause, “How about twenty per cent?”
Tanza chuckled.
“You’re a tryer, Joe. I have to work by rule. If it was me I’d let you have it for ten, but this will be New York money and it comes pricey,” and he hung up.
Massino sat for a long moment, his face ugly with rage. Then, shoving back his chair, he strode out into the passage and into Andy’s office.
Lieutenant Mulligan, a fat, freckled-faced man was examining the safe. Two other plain clothes detectives were fingerprinting. Benno and Ernie had gone. Andy stood just inside the doorway, nibbling his thumb nail.
“The road blocks are going up, Mr. Massino,” Mulligan said. “If he hasn’t got away by now, he won’t get away.”
Knowing some thirty vital minutes had been wasted, Massino glared at the detective and then spat on the floor.
Toni Capello had been told to find Johnny. As he got into his Lincoln, he decided that the most likely place where Johnny would be found was with his girl friend, Melanie.
Toni envied Johnny. This lush, well built girl was his idea of a good lay. He thought it would be fun to batter on the door and get Johnny out of bed. Who knows? The girl might even come to the door herself.
He knew her name and where she lived. Once, he had spotted Johnny and the girl leave a restaurant and because he had the hots for her and nothing better to do, he had followed them back to Melanie’s pad.
It took him only a few minutes to reach the street and he saw Johnny’s car parked outside the apartment block. He grinned as he pulled up behind the car.
So Johnny was up there with his whore, Toni thought as he crossed the sidewalk. Man! Was he in for a shock!
He rode up in the elevator. Reaching Melanie’s front door, he dug his fingers into the bell push and kept it there.
There was a long delay, then the door jerked open. Melanie, holding a cotton wrap around her, stared at him, terror in her eyes.
“What is it?” she demanded, her voice strident. What goes on? Toni wondered. This chick’s flipping her lid.
“I want Johnny… get him out of bed! The boss wants him pronto.”
“He’s not here!” Melanie began to shut the door, but Toni’s foot came forward, blocking it.
“He is here, baby. Don’t fool around. His car’s outside. He’s wanted.” Then raising his voice, he yelled, “Hey, Johnny! The boss wants you!”
“I tell you he’s not here!” Melanie cried. “Get out! He’s not here!”
“Is that right?” Toni moved forward, pushing her back. “Then where is he?”
“I don’t know!”
“His car’s outside.”
“I tell you I don’t know!” She waved imploring hands to the door. “Go away… get out!”
Suspicion lit a spark in Toni’s mind. Why was she so frightened? Why was Johnny’s car outside if he wasn’t here?
Shoving her aside, he went into the bedroom and turned on the light. He looked around, then saw Johnny’s tie on the floor.
“He’s been here,” he said as Melanie, shaking, came to the bedroom door. “Where did he go?”
“I don’t know! I don’t know anything! Get out!”
Jesus! Toni thought, it couldn’t have been Johnny? Not Johnny! He caught hold of her wrist, swung her around and flung her down on the bed. He bent over her.
“Talk, baby, or I’ll soften you. Where’s he gone?”
Shuddering, Melanie tried to sit up. Toni placed his hand over her face and flung her back, then he repeated, “Where is he?”
“I don’t know,” Melanie sobbed.
He slapped her twice, jerking her head from side to side.
“Where is he?” he yelled at her. “Come on, baby, spill it!”
She lay stunned by the force of the slaps.
“I don’t know,” she mumbled, trying to shield her face. “I don’t know anything!”
Toni hesitated. He was almost sure she was lying, but to knock Johnny Bianda’s girl about could be asking for real trouble if he was making a mistake.
If Johnny suddenly walked in and caught him with this chick, Johnny would kill him. Toni had no doubt about that.
“Get your clothes on,” he said. “You and me are going for a ride. Come on!”
“I won’t go with you! Get out!” Melanie screamed. Then sliding down the bed away from him, she was on her feet and out into the sitting-room before be could stop her.
Cursing, Toni rushed after her, caught her at the front door and dragged her back into the bedroom. He pulled his gun and shoved the barrel into her chest.
“Get dressed!” he snarled.
She looked with horror at the gun, then he had no more trouble with her.
Twenty minutes later, he led her into Massino’s office.
“Something stinks here, boss,” he said as Massino glared first at him and then at Melanie. “Maybe you can talk to her.” He went on to tell Massino about Johnny’s car, about Melanie’s terror and no Johnny.
“What are you trying to tell me?” Massino snarled. “You telling me Johnny took the money?”
“I’m telling you nothing. She’ll tell you.”
Massino turned his bloodshot, enraged eyes on Melanie who shrivelled under his glare.
“Where’s Johnny?”
She began to sob helplessly.
“I don’t know. He went out on a job… that’s what he called it. Don’t touch me! He told me I was to be his alibi. He lost his medal…”
Massino drew a long slow breath.
“Sit down,” he said. “Here, Toni, give her a chair.” Then he began to question Melanie who talked, terrified by the staring bloodshot eyes and the fat, stone- hard face.
“Okay,” Massino said finally. “Take her home, Toni,” and getting up he went into Andy’s office where Lieutenant Mulligan was about to leave. Massino drew him aside. “I want you to pick up Johnny Bianda,” he said. “Turn every goddamn cop you’ve got on the job. Keep it quiet… understand?”
Mulligan gaped at him.
“Bianda? You think he’s behind this?”
Massino grinned like a wolf.
“I don’t know, but if you can’t find him in four or five hours, he could be. Drop everything… get after Bianda!”
At 10.00, Carlo Tanza arrived in a Cadillac with three bodyguards. With a wide, oily smile he watched them dump two heavy suitcases on Massino’s desk.
Tanza was a short, stocky Italian with a balding head, a big paunch, tiny, evil eyes and lips like red wine.
He shook hands with Massino, waved his men out of the office, nodded to Andy who stayed to count the money, then sat down. “There’s the money, Joe,” he said. “You ask, you get. How’s that for service?”
Massino nodded.
“Thanks.”
“The boss talked to me on the phone,” Tanza said.
“He wasn’t pleased. If you want to hold on to your Numbers, Joe, you have got to wake up your ideas. This safe…”
“I’m getting a new one.”
“I guessed you would. Now, who took the money?”
“Nothing certain yet,” Massino said, “but it points to Johnny Bianda. He’s gone missing.”
“Bianda?” Tanza looked startled. “I got the idea he was your best man.”
“Yeah.” Massino’s face turned red and his little eyes glittered, “but it points to him,” and he went on to tell Tanza about Melanie, the alibi and the fact Johnny’s car was still parked outside Melanie’s pad.
“You’re sure the girl knows nothing?”
“I’m sure. I scared the crap out of the bitch.”
“So what are you going to do?”
Massino closed his big hands into fists.
“If he’s skipped town, I want the organization to go after him. If he’s still in town, I’ll find him.”
“He can buy himself a lot of protection with all that dough,” Tanza said thoughtfully. “Okay, I’ll tell the Big Man. So you want us to find him… right?”
“If he’s not holed up here… yes.”
“I don’t want to start something too soon, Joe. Once the organization gets moving its hard to stop and it costs. Suppose you make certain he isn’t in town, then give me the green light, huh?”
“If he’s skipped, the longer you wait the further he’ll go.”
Tanza grinned evilly.
“It don’t matter how far he goes… if he goes to China, we’ll find him. We’ve never failed yet. You make sure first he isn’t in town, then we’ll take over.”
He got to his feet. “I’m only trying to save you money, Joe. We don’t work for nothing.”
When Tanza had gone, Massino called Toni and Ernie into the office.
“Go to Johnny’s place and search it.” he ordered. “I want every scrap of information, every scrap of paper you can find there. I want you to send out some of the boys to ask around. I want to know who his friends are.
When they had left, Massino called Lieutenant Mulligan.
“Anything new?” he asked when the Lieutenant came on the line.
“It’s my bet he’s skipped town,” Mulligan said. “There’s no trace of him. I’ve dug up his record, his prison photo and his finger prints. Would they be of any use to you?”
“Yeah. I want everything you’ve got on him.”
“I’ll send a man over with the photostats right away, Mr. Massino.”
“Would you know if he has any relatives?”
“Doesn’t seem to from his record. His father died five years ago.”
“Anything on him?”
“An Italian: worked in a fruit cannery in Tampa. Johnny was born there.”
Massino thought for a moment.
“A dog to its vomit. He could be heading back South.”
“Yeah. Do you want me to alert the Florida police… can do.”
Massino hesitated, then said, “No. I can handle this, but keep hunting for him in town.” A pause, then Massino said, “The next time you’re passing look in and see Andy. He’ll have something for you.”
As Mulligan began mumbling thanks, Massino hung up.
At 19.00, Massino was still at his desk. Spread out before him were the various items that Mulligan had sent him and that Toni and Ernie had found in Johnny’s apartment.
Andy hovered behind him, chain smoking, but quiet. He could feel the intensity of Massino’s vicious fury that was only just under control.
“So what have we got?” Massino demanded suddenly.
“He’s our man,” Andy said. “No question about it now and he’s skipped town.”
“Who the hell would have thought Johnny would have done this to me?” Massino asked, pushing back his chair. “The sonofabitch! Well, okay, I’ll turn the organization after him. It may take time, but they’ll find him and then he’ll wish he’d never been born!”
Andy came to the desk.
“This interests me, Mr. Joe,” he said and picked up a much thumbed copy of Yachts & Motorboats, a technical magazine for boat builders that Toni had found in Johnny’s apartment. “Why should Johnny have this?”
“How the hell should I know?” Massino snarled. “It means nothing!”
Andy was flicking through the pages, then he paused at an advert of a thirty-foot cabin cruiser that had been ringed by a pencil.
“Look at this.”
Massino glared at him.
“So what?”
“Do you think Johnny is interested in boats? Do you think his plan was to skip in a boat?”
Massino became attentive.
“Yeah… another pointer to the South.”
“And this.” Andy picked up a gaudy Christmas card that Toni had also found. Written in a spidery handwriting was the legend:
See you sometime.
Giovanni Fuselli.
Jackson.
“Where the hell is Jackson and what’s so important about this goddamn thing?”
“Jackson is around thirty miles from Jacksonville, Florida.”
Then the telephone bell rang. Ernie was on the line.
“Got something, boss,” he said, his voice excited. “Just been talking to a young punk who says he gave a ride to a guy who matches up with Bianda’s description. He dropped him off at Reddy’s cafe.”
“Get him over here. I’ll show him Bianda’s photo.” Massino hung up, then looked at Andy. “Looks like Johnny got a ride out of town to Reddy’s cafe: that’s where the truckers stop before driving South, isn’t it?”
“That’s right.”
“South!” Massino said. “It all points south, doesn’t it? That’s where the bastard’s gone!”
Fifteen minutes later, Ernie, accompanied by Joey, looking uneasy, came into the office.
Massino pushed the photo across the desk.
“That him?”
Joey peered at the photo, then nodded.
“Yes, sir.”
“Okay.” Massino took out his wallet, found a five dollar bill and tossed it at Joey. “Get his name and address,” he said to Ernie, “and get him out of here.”
“Wait.” Andy came forward as Joey started for the door. “This guy you gave a ride to was carrying two heavy bags… right?” Joey shook his head.
“He wasn’t carrying a thing.”
“He didn’t have even one bag?”
“Nothing.”
“Goddamn it!” Massino snarled. “He must have been carrying two bags!”
Joey paled, but shook his head.
“Honest, sir, he wasn’t carrying a thing!”
“Okay,” Andy said quietly, “take him away.”
As the office door shut, Massino glared at Andy. “You reckon the money’s still in town?”
“No. Let’s look at this, Mr. Joe. Don’t let’s rush it.”
Andy began to pace up and down and because Massino knew this little man was no fool, he restrained his impatience while he waited. Andy paused. “Bianda is a loner. He has no friends we’ve been able to dig up, yet he gets this Christmas card so he does have someone. He takes off, but he hasn’t the money with him and he must know he could never dare show his snout again in this town if he stashed it so it looks to me that he wasn’t working alone. Call this a hunch, Mr. Joe,” Andy paused, then went on, “Suppose this other guy Bianda was working with rushed the money out of town while Bianda was looking for his medal? Are you getting my thinking, Mr. Joe? Bianda and this other guy do the job. This other guy takes the money. Bianda goes back to his whore. The idea is none of us would suspect him of the steal. Then he finds the medal gone. He knows he’s cooked if the medal is found in my office. He has to be sure, but Benno has the cops here so Bianda panics, gets a ride out of town and beads south to join this other guy.” Andy leaned forward and tapped the Christmas card. “Fuselli. It’s my guess he’s this other guy.”
Massino glowered at him.
“You’re nuts! This Fuselli… how do you know because he sent a Christmas card that he is working with Bianda?”
“I don’t know, but Bianda is a loner and here is someone who
kept in touch with him… someone living south.”
Massino hesitated.
“Well… could be. I’ll call Carlo. He’ll turn the Florida mob onto Fuselli.”
“Just a moment, Mr. Joe,” Andy said. “There’s no rush to call in Tanza. We could handle this ourselves. Have you thought how much the Big Man will take if they go after Bianda? They would take half: $93,000! They could even take more. We know the way the Big Man operates. If he puts a finger on a man, sooner or later, that man’s dead. It might take a couple of years, but once the sign is on, that man’s dead. Suppose we send Toni and Ernie down to Jackson and check this Fuselli out first? If he’s our man, we save ourselves $93,000. If he’s in the clear and Bianda isn’t there, then we turn it over to Tanza. We lose a few days, but we can afford to do that. What do you think?”
Massino considered this, then nodded.
“Now you’re using your head, Andy,” he said. “Okay, get those two off by the first plane. Let’s take a look at Fuselli.”
Ernie and Toni arrived at Jacksonville airport some minutes after 11:00. They went immediately to Hertz Rent-a-car bureau and hired a Chevvy. While waiting for the car, Ernie asked the girl the best way to Jackson.
“Follow the freeway to your right,” he was told. “No problem: Jackson is sign-posted: around thirty miles from here.”
Ernie got in the passenger’s seat. When he could avoid any form of work, he did so. After all, Toni was five years his junior, was his reasoning, so why the hell shouldn’t he do the driving?
On the freeway, he said, “Let’s get this organized, Toni. If we run into Johnny, you take care of him and Ill take care of Fuselli… right?”
Toni stiffened.
“Where do you get this I take care of Johnny crap?” Ernie hid a sly grin.
“That’s what you want, isn’t it? You’ve always said you could beat Johnny to a draw. Looks to me, we’re heading for a show down. This is your chance to prove you’re better and faster with a gun than he is.”
Toni shifted uneasily. Johnny’s past reputation had always hung over him like a dark cloud and was still hanging over him.
“Maybe both of us had better take care of him,” he said. “That punk can shoot.”
“So can you.” Ernie relaxed. “Didn’t you tell me only last week that Johnny was old and washed up? You take care of him. This Fuselli might be as fast as Johnny.”
Toni felt sweat beads suddenly on his forehead.
“So that’s fixed, huh?” Ernie said, enjoying himself. “We shoot first and talk after, huh?”
Toni didn’t say anything. He was aware of a tight ball of fear in his guts. He drove in silence for ten miles, then aware that Ernie was dozing off, he said. “Do you think Johnny really took all that bread?”
“Why not?” Ernie shook himself awake and lit a cigarette. “Boy! Could I use money like that! You know something, Toni? Johnny has more guts than you or me.”
“Maybe, but he can’t get away with it. If we don’t find him, the Big Man will. The bastard’s stupid.”
“Maybe, but he’s tried and that’s more than you and me would have done. There’s always a chance he just might get away with it.”
Toni glanced at his fat companion.
“You’re nuts! No one has ever beaten the organization and no one ever will. If it takes years, they’ll find him, if we don’t.”
“But think of what he could do with all that bread even if he lasted only two years.”
“To hell with the money! I’d rather stay alive!”
“There’s the sign post,” Ernie said. “Jackson five miles.”
“I can read,” Toni said and the knot of fear in his guts tightened.
Jackson turned out to be a tiny fruit-growing town with a Main street, a number of fruit-canning factories and out-lying farms. Toni drove down the Main street, passing a small, clean-looking hotel, the Post Office, a general store, a movie house and a cafe.
“What a goddamn hole,” he said as he pulled up outside the cafe. “Let’s have a beer. Maybe we can get a lead on Fuselli.”
They were aware that the people on the street, mostly old women and older men were staring curiously at them. They went into the cafe, crossed to the bar and hoisted themselves up on stools.
There were a few old men sitting at tables, nursing glasses of beer, who gaped at them as if they were something out of a zoo.
The barman, fat, balding, with a friendly red face, came to them.
“Mornin’ gents. What’s your pleasure?”
“Beers,” Ernie said.
“Nice to see strangers in our town,” the barman went on as he drew beers, “Harry Dukes is the name. Welcome, gents.”
In spite of his friendliness, Ernie could see Dukes was looking at them curiously as if trying to decide who and what they were. Toni’s black-and-pink-flowered kipper tie seemed to be bothering him.
They drank, then Ernie said, “Nice little town you have here.”
He always did the talking while Toni watched, listened and kept his mouth shut.
“Not so bad, and thank you. A bit quiet, but it could be worse. Lots of old people here, but in the evenings it livens up when the boys and girls come in from picking.”
“Yeah.” Ernie took out his wallet with a flourish and extracted a card he always carried around with him. The times this card had got him out of trouble and got him information were without number. He pushed the card across the counter.
“This for me?” Dukes asked startled.
“Just take a gander, friend.”
Dukes went to the back of his bar and found a pair of spectacles. He put them on while Toni hissed softly under his breath; Ernie nudged him and Toni subsided.
Dukes read:
THE ALERT DETECTIVE AGENCY
SAN FRANCISCO
Presented by: Detective 1st Grade Jack Loosey
He looked up, removed his spectacles and gaped. “This you?” he asked, tapping the card.
“Yeah, and this is my assistant: Detective Morgan,” Ernie said.
Dukes whistled softly. He was obviously impressed.
“You know something? I had an idea there was something special about you two gents,” he said. “Detectives, huh?”
“Private,” Ernie said gravely. “Maybe you can help us.”
Dukes took a step back. He began to look worried.
“Nothing in this little town for you, gents. I assure you.”
“Have a drink and give us another beer.”
Dukes hesitated, then drew three beers and stood, waiting.
“We get all kinds of jobs,” Ernie said. “You’ve no idea. Does the name Giovanni Fuselli mean anything to you?”
“Sure does.” Then Dukes stiffened and his eyes turned hostile. “What’s he to you?”
Ernie grinned slyly.
“Nothing to me, Mr. Dukes, but plenty to him. Does he live here?”
Dukes had now turned very hostile.
“If you want to know anything about Mr. Fuselli you go to the cops,” he said. “Mr. Fuselli is a fine gentleman. You go to the cops: don’t come here asking me questions.”
Ernie sipped his beer and then laughed.
“You’ve got me all wrong, Mr. Dukes. Our job is to find Mr. Fuselli. We’ve been told what a fine man he is. We’re trying to help him. Between you and me, a relative of his has left him some money: his aunt died last year and we’re trying to clear up her estate.”
Dukes hostility went away like a fist opening into a hand.
“Is that right? Mr. Fuselli has come into money?”
“He sure has. It’s not my business to tell you how much,” Ernie winked confidently, “but it’s a nice slice… We’ve been told he lives around here, but we haven’t his address. Like I said: we get all kinds of jobs. This is one of the nice ones.”
Listening, Toni marvelled at Ernie’s glib talk and envied him. He knew he could never talk as convincingly as this.
“Well, I’m glad. Mr. FuseIli is a good friend of mine,” Dukes said. “Right now, he’s away. What a shame! Left last week for a trip up north.”
Ernie slopped some of his beer.
“Is that right? Do you know how long he’ll be away?”
“No, sir. Mr. Fuselli goes north from time to time. Sometimes he comes back in a week… sometimes in a month, but he always comes back.” Dukes grinned. “Just shuts up his little house and takes off.”
“North? Where?”
Dukes shook his head.
“Mr. Fuselli never says. He’ll come in here, have a beer, then he says to me, ‘Well, Harry, I guess I’ll go north for a while. See you when I get back.’ Mr. Fuselli never talks about himself and I don’t ask questions.”
Ernie lit a cigarette while he thought.
“Doesn’t someone look after his place while he’s away?”
Dukes laughed.
“Not much of a place to look after. No, I guess no one goes near it. It’s in a pretty lonely spot.”
“Just where is it?”
“Out on Hampton’s hill. You being a stranger here wouldn’t know Hampton’s hill, would you?”
Containing his impatience with an effort, Ernie agreed.
“Well, you go down Main street, take the dirt road to your left, drive up the hill for a couple of miles and pass Noddy Jenkin’s farm. Then you go on for another mile and you’ll see Mr. Fuselli’s place on your right: a little clapboard house, but he keeps it nice.”
“We’d better write to him,” Ernie said and finished his beer. “The address is Hampton hill, Jackson?”
“Yeah. This is good news about him inheriting money. An aunt? Jesus! She must have been old. Mr. Fuselli is pushing seventy.”
Ernie gaped at him.
“Seventy?”
“That’s right. He had his seventy-second birthday last month, but he’s tough. Make no mistake about that… spry as a man half his age.”
“Well, I guess we’ll be getting along. Nice meeting you, Mr. Dukes.”
After shaking hands, Ernie followed Toni out into the sunshine. “Canned stuff and bread and a bottle of Scotch.”
“What the hell for?” Toni demanded.
“Go get enough food to last us a couple of days,” Ernie said. “Can’t you see all these old creeps are watching us?”
Toni went down the street to the general store while Ernie got into the passenger’s seat of the car. He pushed his hat over his eyes and rested.
After a while Toni came back with a big bag of groceries and a bottle of Scotch. He put the bag on the back seat, then got under the driving wheel.
“So now what?”
“We go to Hampton hill or whatever the hell it’s called,” Ernie said.
“Is that such a hot idea?”
“Use your nut. We flew down here. Johnny and Fuselli are driving down. We have four or five hours start ahead of them. It’s my bet they’ll bring the money here. When they arrive, we’ll be all over them before they know what’s hit them, but we could have a wait.”
Toni thought about this, then grunted.
“Okay.”
Engaging gear, he drove fast along the broad road, lined on either side with trees heavy with oranges and headed for Hampton hill.