She frowned in thought for a while, then said, “I guess this proves it, then.”
“What?”
“That Guzik was the one responsible for what happened to Uncle Jim.”
“Not really. He’s not the only one La Hill has connections with. Haven’t you kept up on your old mentor’s career?”
“Sure. There’s been a lot in the papers about her. Lee Mortimer’s column, especially. She’s the belle of cafe society- hostess of big cocktail parties in New York and Hollywood. At places like Ciro’s on the Sunset Strip.”
“Ever been to any of those joints?”
“Nathan, I’ve never even been to Hollywood.”
“It’s a great place. The buildings are made of mud and cardboard-you can put your foot through any given wall.”
“I can’t believe that. You’re so cynical. It sounds like a fabulous place to me.”
“Why, you still thinking of becoming an actress?”
“No. I let go of that dream a long time ago. But Ginny was in a movie.”
“Really? I must’ve missed that.”
“Well, it was her only one. Little role. She’s busy with all her social obligations, I guess.”
“Where’s her money coming from, you suppose?”
“Epstein, other guys like him. She used to have this other sugar daddy, Major Riddle.”
I nodded. “He owns the Plantation Club in Moline. Pretty ritzy gambling joint.”
It always came back to gambling, didn’t it?
“She’s done all right,” she said, troubled by the thought that her good, old friend might have tried to use her.
“She’s had another sugar daddy in recent years,” I told her. “Fellow named Joe Adonis.”
Her eyes turned into slits. “Isn’t he a gangster?”
“He ain’t a Greek god. She gets her money from mob guys, baby. Epstein and Riddle, who are tied in through gambling, and the likes of Adonis, who’s tied in to every dirty racket you can imagine, from murder-for-hire to peddling heroin.”
Her eyes widened. “So then what I said was right: Ginny was after information for Guzik.”
“Not necessarily. Adonis is East Coast, and Virginia Hill has been based out in California for years. Hooray for Hollywood, remember? Making movies and tossing parties at Ciro’s? She’s a goddamn bag man, Peg.”
She smiled wryly. “Virginia Hill is no kind of man.”
“Oh yes she is. She’s a bag man for mobsters-shuttling between New York and Chicago and Hollywood with money and messages. It’s no secret.”
“So then…she could’ve been looking out for the interests of this Bugsy Siegel person, when she came to me.”
“Could be, if she knows him. And she undoubtedly does, since he’s the guy running the West Coast end of the mob’s wire service. When I say mob, I’m not just talking the local Outfit, either-I mean the East Coast, too. There are men out there who make Guzik look cuddly.”
“You’ve got to find out, Nate.”
“Find out what?”
She shook a small fist. “Whether it was Siegel or Guzik who tried to have my uncle killed!”
“Ultimately it doesn’t matter.”
“How can you say that?”
“Well, it doesn’t. Your uncle has to sell out to stay alive. If he doesn’t sell, and Siegel doesn’t get him, Guzik eventually will.”
“You’re saying Uncle Jim can’t win in this.”
“Sure he can. He can win big. He’s already a millionaire. He’s a winner when he sells to Guzik for big bucks and retires.”
“Wouldn’t you fight to hold on to your business, if it was being threatened?”
“Not if I was a sixty-five-year-old millionaire.”
Her eyes were moving back and forth with frantic thought.
She said, “You know, Virginia’s still in town…”
“Stay away from her!”
“She’s always been my friend. I can’t believe she’d try to use me for something…criminal.”
“Yeah, the mind does boggle trying to picture Virginia Hill using somebody for something criminal.”
That stopped her and even made her laugh, a little.
“Why do I love you?” she asked, shaking her head, brown curls shimmering.
“Search me.”
“Okay,” she said, and she ran her smooth small hands under the blankets, down inside my underwear.
“You’re on a fool’s mission,” I said. “You’re not going to find anybody in there-not anybody who isn’t sleeping.”
“Oh? Who’s this?”
“Whoever it is, uh…is waking up.”