The Mike Hammer Collection

“Quincy? Man, who knows?” He chuckled and leaned back against the cushions. “He had places all over. You know he operated a couple of houses without paying off? The boys closed him on that one.”

“The records, Sonny. Right now we’re checking up on all of Quincy’s former properties and every commercial warehouse in the city, but if you remember anything about what he had you can cut the time right down.”

“Mister, you’re dragging me back thirty years.”

“What did you have to think about all the time you were in prison, Sonny? Whatever it was belonged back there too because in prison there was nothing to think about.”

“Broads,” he grinned. “Until I was sixty all I thought about was broads. Not the used ones I had before, but ones that didn’t even exist. Maybe after sixty I went back, but it took some time.”

“Now you got something to think about.”

Sonny sat there a long moment, then his mouth twisted into a sour grimace. “Tell me, mister. What would it get me? You it would get something. Me? Nothing. Trouble, that’s all it would bring. Right now I ain’t got nothin’ but I ain’t got trouble either. Nope. Don’t think I can help you. I’ve had my belly full of trouble and now it’s over. I don’t want no more.”

“There won’t be trouble, Sonny.”

“No? You think with all the papers down my throat I’d get any peace? You think I’d keep the lease on the shoe shop? It’s bad enough I’m a con and a few people know it, but let everybody know it and I get booted right out of the neighborhood. No business, nothin’. Sorry, mister.”

“There might be a reward in it.”

“No dice. I’d have everybody in the racket chiseling it outa me. I’d wind up a drunk or dead. Somebody’d try to take me for the poke and I’d be out. Not me, Mister Hammer. I’m too old to even worry about it.”

Damn, he was tying me up tight and he was right. There had to be a way. I said, “If I wanted to I could put the heat on you for the Howie Green kill. The way things stand I wouldn’t be a bit surprised if we got some quick and total cooperation from the police.”

Sonny stared a second, then grunted. “What a guest you are. You sure want me to fall bad.”

“Not that bad. If you want to push it I’d probably lay back. I’m just trying you, Sonny.”

Once again his eyes caught Velda’s legs. She had swung them out deliberately and the dress had pulled up over her knee. It was enough to make Sonny giggle again. “Oh, hell, why not? So maybe I can feed you something. What’s it they call it? Public duty or some kind of crap like that.”

“Quincy Malek, Sonny.”

He sat back and squinted his eyes shut. “Now let’s see. What would that punk do? He up and died but he never expected to, I bet. He was the kind who’d keep everything for himself if he could. Even if he left something to his family I bet they’d have to dig for it.

“Quincy owned property around town. Tenements, stuff like that. He’d buy cheap and hold. Got plenty in rentals and he seemed to know what was coming down and what was going up. Always had a hot iron in the fire.”

“Would he keep any records there?”

“Nope, don’t think so. Something might happen to ’em. My guess is he’d leave ’em with somebody.”

“Who?”

“Something about old Quincy nobody knew. He kept a pair of sisters in an apartment building he owned. Tricky pair that. Real queer for anything different. I got the word once that he had a double deal with them. They owned the apartment with some papers signed so that he could take it back any time he wanted. He couldn’t get screwed that way. Me, I’d look for those sisters. That building would be the only income they had and they couldn’t dump it so they were stuck with it, but since it was a good deal all around, why not, eh?”

“Who were they, Sonny?”

“Now you got me, mister. I think if you poke around you’ll find out who. I remember the deal, but not the dames. That any help?”

“It’s a lead.”

“Maybe I’ll think of it later. You want me to call if I do?”

I picked a scrap of paper off the table, wrote down the office and home numbers, and gave them to him. “Keep calling these numbers until you get me or Velda here.”

“Sure.” He tucked the paper in his pants pocket. Then he got an idea. “Hey,” he said, “if you find that crumb Blackie, you let me know. Hell, I’d even like a feel of that money. Just a feel. I think I’m entitled. It cost me thirty years.”

“Okay, a feel,” I said kiddingly.

Then Velda swung her leg out again and he grinned. “You know what I’d really like to feel, don’t you?”

With a laugh Velda said, “You’re a dirty old man.”

“You bet, lady. But I’d sure like to see you with your clothes off just once.”

“If you did you’d drop dead,” I told him.

“What a way to go,” he said.