Naked, her body still rose-pink from the vigorous towelling she had given it, Dolores sat on a stool in one of the luxurious shower rooms in the Paradise Club and carefully dried between her toes with a piece of cotton wool.
She had just come in from a swim, and following her usual practice, she had taken a shower to wash the salt water from her skin.
Her expression was thoughtful and her almond-shaped eyes had lost their usual alive gleam and were cloudy with angry anxiety.
An hour ago Jack Maurer had abruptly told her he was going on a fishing trip; destination unknown, and he would be away probably for three weeks to a month. Even now as she glanced out of the window that overlooked the ocean she could still see the yacht as a minute speck in the horizon.
She had guessed Maurer had gone on Abe’s advice, and because of June Arnot.
She had known about June ever since the affair had started. She had watched the affair progress, and had felt her own power over Maurer weaken as the months passed. She knew her throne was tottering. It gave her no satisfaction that June was dead. If it wasn’t June, then it would be someone else. She knew that Gloria Lyle, a second-rate movie actress with a bust like a pouter pigeon’s and the morals of an alley cat, had gone aboard the yacht, ten minutes before Maurer had left the club for the harbour.
June’s murder had shocked Dolores. To her it was the writing on the wall. When Maurer came back, she was sure that her reign would end. The odds were that he wouldn’t bother to divorce her; he would get rid of her as brutally as he had got rid of June.
Dolores had no illusions about Maurer. She knew he thought no more of taking a life than he thought of drinking a Scotch and soda.
She had been his wife now for four years, and the wonder was she had lasted so long. It was only because she had never given him a chance to complain, never looked at any other man, that she had lasted. She knew he was growing impatient for his freedom. He wouldn’t dare divorce her. She knew too much about his business affairs to risk her being free from his watchful influence. She was sure that before long, probably when he returned, he would tell one of his hoods what to do, and she would the. She would have a car smash or a shooting accident; she might get carried out to sea when she was bathing. There were many convenient ways in which she could the: convenient for Maurer, of course.
She reached out for a cigarette, lit it and released two thin trails of smoke down her finely shaped nostrils.
She wasn’t alarmed, but she realized she would have to do something if she were going to survive. Already her quick wits and her shrewd razor-sharp mind had created a passible solution. Now Maurer was out of the ways she must make immediate use of her opportunities.
She stood up and walked over to the wall mirror and surveyed herself. She smoothed her hands down her long, sleek flanks as she studied her body with thoughtful narrowed eyes. She thought of Gloria Lyle with her short legs and ridiculous bust. What did Maurer see in her, she wondered. What could he see in her? He was no better than an alley cat himself in search of any new sensation with an animal urge for something fresh, no matter how ugly it was.
Shrugging her shoulders, she began to dress, her mind still occupied. Her position was dangerous. She had thought of taking her jewellery and the clothes he had once showered on her and trying to hide herself somewhere, but she knew there was nowhere safe from his long-reaching arm.
She snapped a garter into place, smoothed her dress over her solid hips and walked out of the shower room and along the passage to the cocktail bar.
Abe Gollowitz sat on a high stool, sipping a martini. His fat buttocks spread over the stool, making the stool look like a grotesque mushroom.
She stood in the doorway, looking at him. In him was her only hope, and she felt a little shiver of disgust run through her. Pot-bellied, oily old men were her only refuge, she thought: the only men who had the power and the money that were essential to her way of life. If only Abe were like that flash, hard-muscled Seigel. She had often wondered what Seigel would be like as a lover. Several times she had been tempted to experiment, but she knew the danger. Once she had made Seigel her lover, her life would be hanging on a thread.
She studied Gollowitz as he sipped his martini, unaware of her presence. She could do anything with him, and she had long known he lived for the day when he would take over Maurer’s position. But would he be strong enough to protect her when the time came?
“Hello, Abe,” she said, coming up to him and smiling her brilliant, sensual smile. “So Jack’s gone.”
He hurriedly slid off the stool, his fat, dark face lighting up.
“Yes, he’s gone,” he said, his eyes undressing her. “How beautiful you look, Dolly. How do you manage it?”
She shrugged and climbed up on a stool next to his.
“Oh, I don’t know. Jack doesn’t notice it any longer, Abe.”
He scowled.
“Jack doesn’t appreciate the best things in life.”
“You know he’s got that Lyle woman on board?” Dolores said, taking the icecold martini the barman gave her.
Gollowitz stiffened.
“I had heard. It’s no business of mine.”
“Abe, is Jack in trouble?”
“No, no, nothing like that. He suddenly decided…”
“Please, Abe, tell me. You’re the only one I have now who I can trust. He is in trouble, isn’t he?”
Gollowitz glanced over his shoulder to make sure no one was within earshot.
“He could be. We thought it wiser for him to be out of reach — for the time being.”
“It’s because of June?”
Gollowitz hesitated, then, nodded.
“How will the organization react, Abe? Could this be the end of Jack?”
“This is dangerous talk, Dolly, but since you ask me, I can only tell you I don’t know. He’s not paying much attention to the organization these past months. He has said something about making a clean break.”
This was news to Dolores, but she was careful not to let Gollowitz see her startled surprise.
“I know. He’s said something about that to me. Isn’t it unwise, Abe?”
“I think so.”
This time it was her turn to hesitate, but she knew if she didn’t seize every opportunity it might be too late when Maurer returned.
Lowering her voice, she said, “If anything happened to Jack, you would take over, wouldn’t you?”
Gollowitz eyed her uneasily. He was on perilous ground, but he was also aware that Dolores’s present position was still more perilous.
“It would depend on the organization. They may have someone else in mind.”
She shook her head.
“That’s not likely.” She looked up suddenly, her green eyes an open invitation. “If you did take over, Abe, would you have anything for me?”
She watched him trying to keep calm. She already knew the answer before he said, “If I took over, Dolly, you would have nothing to worry about.”
She gave a pleased little smile.
“I have plenty to worry about now, Abe.”
Gollowitz nodded. He restrained himself from reaching for her hand. He was aware that several people in the bar were watching them.
“Yes, and so have I.”
The bell of the telephone standing on the bar rang sharply. The barman picked up the receiver, listened, said, “Yes, sir,” and replaced the receiver. He turned to Gollowitz. “Mr. Seigel’s asking for you, sir. He’s in your office. It’s urgent.”
Gollowitz scowled. Couldn’t Seigel hold down his job for ten minutes without bothering him? he thought as he got off his stool. He’d have to go. No sense in risking trouble at the beginning of his reign.
“That guy can’t blow his own nose without me helping him,” he said, smiling at Dolores. “Perhaps we might have lunch together in twenty minutes?”
She shook her head.
“Better not, Abe. Too many spies around,” She gave him a warning look. “I’m going home now.” She slid off the stool. “One of these days we’ll have lunch together. I’m looking forward to the time, Abe, when there will be no restrictions between us.” Her look was full of meaning as she smiled a good-bye.
He watched her walk across the bar to the door, his eyes feast-ting on her, watching the slow rolling movement of her hips under the thin material of her frock as she walked, her broad, square shoulders and her long, tapering legs. He felt sick with desire for her.
Seigel was pacing up and down when Gollowitz entered his office. His face was pale and his breath stank of whisky as he approached Gollowitz.
“They’ve got the girl!” he said breathlessly.
Gollowitz stiffened.
“What do you mean? Who’s got the girl?”
“Goddamn it! The police have got her! Those two blasted punks made a mess of it!”
Gollowitz felt a chill run up his fat spine. Failure! The moment his hand was on the helm, the ship floundered. What would the organization think of him? This might kill his chances of ever succeeding Maurer! Cold, vicious rage seized him.
“But Jack told you to wipe her out!” he cried shrilly. “Do you mean to tell me she isn’t wiped out?”
Seigel backed away. He had never seen Gollowitz look like this; he looked now as dangerous and as crazy as Maurer could look when things went wrong.
“They trapped her in a maze in the amusement park. The police must have been tipped. They arrived before they could find the little bitch. Moe was killed.”
“Are you telling me the police have got her after what Maurer told you?” Gollowitz screamed, his fat fists clenched and his face contorted with rage and fear. “Didn’t you hear what McCann said? Goddamn it! What’s the matter with you?”
“I warned Mr. Maurer,” Seigel snarled. “We had no time to case the joint. It blew up. She was surrounded by people. The boys couldn’t get near her. I warned him!”
“Shut up!” Gollowitz cried. “I don’t want to listen to your weak, spineless excuses. Maurer said she was to be hit, and you’ve failed to carry out an order!”
“Gleb and Weiner failed to carry out the order,” Seigel said, his face chalk white.
“And you’re responsible! What are you doing about it? What the hell are you doing here, making excuses? Get after her! Wipe her out! I don’t care how you do it, but do it!”
“The D.A.’s got her,” Seigel said. “We can’t get at her. That’s the one place we can’t get into.”
Gollowitz struggled to control his rage and fear. He realized he wasn’t behaving as the boss. Maurer wouldn’t act this way; yelling, swearing and raving. He would have a plan ready to rectify the mistake. He pulled himself together with an effort and walked unsteadily to an arm-chair and sat down.
“If she saw Jack at that Arnot woman’s house, we’re finished.” he said, as if talking to himself. “Everything will go. The organization will be wiped out. But did she see anything? Can we afford to gamble on what she saw or didn’t see?”
“Of course we can’t,” Seigel said. “We’ve got to stop her talking. Maybe McCann can handle it for us.”
Gollowitz grimaced.
“McCann? He only thinks of himself. No. We’ve got to handle this ourselves. Where is she exactly, do you know?”
“They took her to the D.A.’s office. She’s somewhere in the building.”
Gollowitz thought for a long moment. Then he looked up sharply.
“You said Gleb was killed. What happened to Weiner?”
Seigel shrugged.
“I don’t know. He disappeared.”
Gollowitz felt the blood drain out of his face.
“You don’t know?” he repeated, starting out of his chair.
Seigel stared at him.
“He’ll turn up. I’ll kick hell out of the punk when I do catch up with him!”
“You goddamn fool!” Gollowitz shouted, his face twitching. “That girl will give a description of him. A blind man could find the punk with that stain on his face. The police will pick him up quick enough, and if he talks we are really sunk. Don’t you see that? All the girl needs to hang the lot of us is corroboration, and to save his skin Weiner will corroborate till he is black in the face. He got his orders from you, didn’t he? Well, they’ll slap an attempted murder charge on you if Weiner talks! And he will talk, make no mistake about that!” He waved his fat fists in the Mr. “Get after him! Find and silence him! Leave the girl to me! I’ll handle her, but get after Weiner. Put every man you’ve got after him. Go yourself!”
Seigel stood rooted, gaping at the screaming, gesticulating figure, then he realized Gollowitz was talking sense.
“I’ll get him!” he said, and snatched open a drawer in his desk. He took out a .45 automatic and shoved it in his hip pocket. “I’ll get him — I’ll get him myself,” and he went out of the room at a run.