THUGLIT Issue One - страница 25
“Where’s the money they brought with them?”
Mimi lifted her face from her hands. Her mascara smeared all over her face. “Terry, please. I…”
He kicked the table over. Champagne bottle and glasses flew. “The Van Dorn money, Mimi. Now!”
Slowly, she pulled the briefcase out from under the couch and she set it on her lap. She fumbled with the locks, but got them open. It looked to be about two grand in greenbacks. Just like he’d been told. Enough for the rich kids to buy a piece of the place.
Or at least think they had.
He wondered how long it would’ve been before they got killed in a convenient mugging once they realized Carmine and Joey had fooled them.
Mimi grinned up at him and ran her tongue along the edges of her teeth. “It’s all right here, sugar. Two grand in cold cash. Enough to pay back Archie what we owe him.”
She lowered the lid of the briefcase enough for him to look down her dress. Her smeared mascara gave her a mean, desperate look. “Enough for you and me to blow town and have ourselves some real fun somewhere. What do you say?”
Quinn shut the case and yanked it off her lap. The Van Dorn kid groaned as he began to stir on the floor.
“I’d say you’re going to have a couple of angry playmates when they wake up in a few minutes.”
Mimi sat back on the couch and folded her arms across her chest. Modesty had returned. “What am I supposed to tell them when they do?”
“That the deal is off and you’ll pay them back with your own money. Tell them this is still Doyle’s place and if they don’t like it, they’ll have to answer to Archie. And me.”
“That’s swell,” Mimi said. “Just swell. But who’s gonna tell Joey? Somebody’s gonna have to tell that crazy son of a bitch what happened and it sure as hell ain’t gonna be me. He’ll beat the hell outta me for this.”
He locked the briefcase. “No he won’t.”
“Yeah?” Mimi said. “How do you know?”
He smiled as he opened the door. “Trust me.”
He shut the door behind him as he went out through the crowd of gamblers. If any of them had heard the commotion in the office, none of them let on. They were too busy poring over the tables, looking for a way to chisel in on the action.
The blonde boy in the tuxedo was nowhere in sight. Probably back with Mummy and Daddy up on Fifth Avenue or wherever that type holed up.
He wondered if the stupid bastard would ever realize that Quinn had actually saved his life.
Otis was back at his piano, pawing out an old Jolson number on the ivories. Quinn made sure he saw him drop another twenty in his tip jar. He patted the piano as he passed by. “Safe and sound, Otis. I’m a man of my word.”
“Night’s still young,” Otis called after him.
Quinn’s fatigue returned as he walked to an all-night drugstore right around the corner and called Archie from the payphone in the back.
Archie came on the line quick, “How’d it go, kid?”
“I got the cash the swells were going to kick in for a share of the place. Two grand, just like Joey told us.”
“Good. Any bloodshed?”
“Not much, boss. You told me to go easy, so I did.”
Doyle didn’t sound convinced. “Terry…”
“I had to knock the Van Dorn brat around and I stopped Carmine from shooting Mimi. They’re banged up but alive, I promise.”
“What about that bastard Rizzo,” Doyle said. “Where’d you park his Plymouth?”
“Right across the street from the place, just like you wanted. I made sure I left the keys in the car for the cops to find.”
“Good. I’ll call our friend and tip him off about Joey’s body being in Carmine’s trunk.” Quinn knew their friend was Andrew Carmichael, Commissioner of the New York Police Department. “If they get there fast enough, maybe they’ll nab Carmine in Mimi’s place. The Van Dorn punk too. Give them back-stabbing bastards somethin’ to chew on.”
Quinn hadn’t slept in two whole nights and was too tired to care anymore. He had Archie’s money and that’s what mattered. “You know best, boss.”
“Goddamned right, kid,” Archie laughed. “Goddamned right. Now get some sleep. You earned it.”
Quinn hung up the phone and let Archie make his calls. He squeezed out of the phone booth and ordered a coffee from the counterman. It was late-night coffee-lukewarm and bitter-but it was better than no coffee at all. It had enough of a kick to keep him from falling asleep in the cab on the way home.