Gollowitz came into the room, closed the door, and walked slowly over to where Maurer was sitting.
There was a long silence. Neither of the men looked at each other. Maurer continued to smoke his cigar, his face thoughtful. Gollowitz waited, his hands clasped behind his back, his mouth hard and set.
“I shouldn’t have used Paretti,” Maurer said suddenly. “That was a mistake. I always thought he was the best man I had. Imagine leaving that sketch-plan where it could be found.”
Gollowitz shut his eyes, opened them and drew in a deep breath.
“Are you telling me you killed that woman — yourself?” he said huskily.
Maurer looked up, his heavy eyebrows lifting.
“It gave me a lot of pleasure. I warned her. I told her to keep away from Jordan. She promised, but all the time she was seeing him: a dirty, mugglesmoker like him!”
“Why the hell did you have to do it yourself?” Gollowitz said fiercely. “Don’t you realize this is just what Forest has been waiting for? For years you’ve kept in the clear. You’ve never given him an opening. You don’t imagine he’s going to pass up such an opportunity, do you? If you wanted to get rid of her, why didn’t you let Louis handle it?”
Maurer smiled.
“It was a personal tiling, Abe,” he said patiently. “It gave me a lot of satisfaction. You should have seen her face when she saw me. She knew. For all her looks, her poise, her fame, she had no courage. You should have seen her. You should have seen her eyes.” He smiled again; a smile that sent a chill down Gollowitz’s fat spine. “You should have heard her scream. It was a personal thing: I wouldn’t have missed doing it for anything in the world.”
Gollowitz rubbed his hand over his sweating face.
“This could sink the organization, Jack,” he said feverishly. The Syndicate won’t like it.”
“—the Syndicate!” Maurer said, his voice suddenly vicious. “I’ve had about enough of the Syndicate! They’re not going to tell me what to do!”
Gollowitz turned away, walked over to an armchair and sat down. He didn’t let Maurer see the shocked, startled expression that showed for a moment in his eyes. “If this Coleman girl saw you…”
“You don’t have to worry about her,” Maurer said indifferently “She’ll be taken care of. Without her, Forest hasn’t a case. He can start trouble, but he won’t get anywhere. You can handle this, if she’s out of the way?”
“Sure. But she’s got to be out of the way!”
“She will be. McCann will let us know where she is. He’s going to give us half an hour before the police move in.”
Gollowitz thought for a moment.
“We can’t take any chances, Jack,” he said abruptly. “We’ll have the yacht stand by. There’s going to be a hell of a stink when this girl dies. You’d best be out of the way. A fishing trip where you can’t be reached would be an idea. Just until the heat dies down.”
Maurer shrugged.
“I’ll have Louis take care of it. The yacht’s all ready. I’ll go aboard as soon as McCann calls.”
“Who’s going to take care of the girl?”
“Get Louis in here. That’s his job.”
Gollowitz got up, crossed the room, opened the door near the bar and beckoned to Seigel.
Seigel came in as if he were walking on egg-shells. He was no fool. From what he had heard he knew Maurer had handled June Arnot’s killing himself, and he was appalled at the possible consequences. He knew one slip now might upset the whole of the carefully built-up kingdom. He had clawed his way up the ladder during the past ten years until he was now in the highest position he could ever hope to attain, with plenty of money, plenty of women, and every conceivable luxury within reach. The thought of losing what he had gained filled him with a sick, vicious rage.
“Louis, this girl’s got to be hit,” Maurer said, coming immediately to the point. “McCann will let you know where she is. You’ve got to move fast. We have half an hour before Conrad moves in.”
Seigel stared at him.
“It’ll have to be a crude job, Mr. Maurer,” he said. “We shan’t have time to case the joint, and that’s bad.”
“I don’t care how the job’s done so long as it is done. Who’s going to do it?”
Seigel thought for a moment.
“Moe and Pete,” he said finally.
“Pete — who?” Maurer asked sharply.
“Pete Weiner. He’s okay. He hasn’t hit before, but he’s got to start some time.”
“Is he the guy with the birth-mark?” Maurer asked frowning.
“That’s him. He can talk good. His old man was a minister. We want a guy who can get into her apartment without her making a noise. Pete can do that. If he slips up, Moe can take over, but he won’t slip up. He’s keen.”
“I don’t like using a guy with a birth-mark,” Maurer said. “He’s too easily spotted.”
“I’ve got no one else who could get into the apartment. I don’t know the setup. If I had a little more time so I could case the joint I wouldn’t use him. As soon as he’s done the job, I’ll get him out of town. There won’t be any kick back.”
“There’d better not be,” Maurer said grimly.
A tap sounded on the door and Dutch Feiner, who looked after the club when Seigel was otherwise occupied, came in. He was a big, red-faced man with blond hair and hard ice-grey eyes.
“What is it?” Maurer said impatiently.
“There’s a dame just come in, Mr. Maurer. I thought you should know. Seems to me she’s Conrad’s wife. I may be wrong. She was in the other night, and I thought her face seemed familiar. I’m pretty sure now that’s who she is.”
“You mean Paul Conrad’s wife?” Seigel said, staring at him.
“That’s right,” Feiner said, pleased with the sensation he had caused.
“She’s not with Conrad, is she?”
“She’s on her own.”
“Check that, Louis!” Maurer said sharply, and got to his feet.
Seigel pushed past Feiner and hurried down the passage that led to the restaurant. He came back after a minute or so, his face excited.
“It’s Conrad’s wife all right. She’s at the bar on her own.”
Maurer waved Feiner away. When he had gone, he looked over at Gollowitz.
“What’s the idea? He wouldn’t send her here to spy, would he?”
Gollowitz shook his head.
“I can’t believe that.”
“Go and talk to her, Louis,” Maurer said. “Handle her carefully. Don’t let her know you know who she is. See if she’ll tell you. Try and find out what she’s doing here.”
Seigel nodded and went out.
“Do you know anything about her?” Maurer asked as Gollowitz sat down again.
“Not much. She’s a looker. I think at one time before she married, she did a bit of singing: small stuff, small fees: you know the kind of thing. They got married about three years ago.”
“What the hell can she be doing here?” Maurer said, pulling at his under-lip.
Gollowitz shrugged. He wasn’t interested in Janey Conrad. In a few hours, he was thinking, Maurer would be on the yacht. He would then be in charge of Maurer’s kingdom, something he had thought about as a remote possibility for the past three years, and now it was within his grasp. It would be he now who would be the power in the organization. No longer would he have to persuade or even beg to have his advice followed. He would decide something should be done, and it would be done immediately.
His mind shifted from the taking over of Maurer’s power to something else that Gollowitz had looked at with envious eyes and frustrated desire ever since he had first met her: Maurer’s wife, Dolores.
Just to think of that tall, red-haired, green-eyed woman made Gollowitz short of breath. To his mind there had never been any woman more desirable and intriguing than Maurer’s wife, and yet Maurer seemed scarcely to be aware she existed. How could he have had an affair with that Arnot woman when Dolores was his? Gollowitz wondered. How could he?
“What’s on your mind, Abe?” Maurer asked sharply, his eyes on Gollowitz’s face.
Gollowitz realized he had been practically thinking out loud, and that was highly dangerous.
He shrugged, his face expressionless.
“A hell of a lot of things,” he said, frowning. “Do you imagine I like this? You walk out of here and leave me holding the can. I’ve got a hell of a lot of things to think about.”
Maurer nodded.
“I won’t be away for long,” he said. “Just hold everything down until I get back. There’s nothing to worry about.”
Gollowitz thought that if anyone should worry it should be Maurer, but he didn’t say so.