Страница 69 из 107
Buzz was just past the edge of the commotion, smothering a showstopper blonde with kisses. Mal recognized her from gossip column pics: Audrey Anders, the Va Va Voom Girl, Mickey Cohen’s on-the-side woman. Buzz and Audrey kissed; Mal gawked from a distance, then turned around and checked the lovebirds’ flank, scoping for witnesses, Cohen goons who’d squeal to their master. The whole crowd was contained behind the crime scene ropes, occupied with Mickey’s tirade; Mal kept sca
Chapter Twenty-Three
“…And Norm says you can fight. He’s a prizefighting fan, so it must be true. Now the question is, are you willing to fight in other ways—and for us.”
Da
“Claire.”
“Claire, I want to help. I want to get moving again. I’m rusty with everything but my fists, and I have to find a job pretty soon, but I want to help.”
Claire De Haven lit a cigarette and sent a hovering waitress packing with a wave of her lighter. “I think for now you should embrace a philosophy of nonviolence. I need someone to come with me when I go out courting contributors. You’d be good at helping me secure contributions from HUAC widows, I can tell.”
Da
Claire smiled. “I reminded you or what I said did?”
Da
“Care to elaborate?”
“Not quite yet.”
Claire called the waitress over and said, “A pitcher of martinis”; the girl curtsied away, writing the order down. Da
Kostenz said, “The time isn’t right, but pretty soon we’ll lower the boom”; Claire shushed him—a mere flicker of her zealot’s eyes. Da
Claire played with her lighter. “Norm has a precipitate streak, and for a boxing fan he’s read a lot of Gandhi. Ted, he’s impatient and I’m impatient. There was a grand jury investigation forming up, sort of a baby HUAC, but now it looks like it went bust. That’s still scary. And I listened to the radio on the ride over. There was another attempt on Mickey Cohen’s life. Sooner or later, he’ll go crazy and sic his goons on the picket line at us. We’ll have to have cameras there to catch it.”
She hadn’t really answered his question, and the passive resistance spiel sounded like subterfuge. Da
Da
Cut her slack, let her move, reel her in. “Don’t be, because it’s all phony.”
“Oh? Meaning?”
“Meaning I was a punk kid revolutionary and a scared car thief.”
“And the ladies’ man?”
The hook baited. “Let’s just say I was trying to recapture an image.”
“Did you ever succeed?”
“No.”
“Because she’s that special?”
Da
“Was?”
Da
Claire said, “Not her.”
“Right, not her. Not strong, not committed, not…”
“Not her.”
Da
Claire laughed. “I’d give you a snappy rejoinder about broken hearts, but you’d hit me.”
“I only beat up fascists.”
“No rough stuff with women?”
“Not my style.”
“It’s mine occasionally.”
“I’m shocked.”
“I doubt that.”
Da
“You’ll get your chance. And they’re not old biddies—unless you think women my age are old.”
A prime opening. “How old are you? Thirty-one, thirty-two?” Claire laughed the compliment out. “Diplomat. How old are you?”
Da
“Well, I’m too old for boys and too young for gigolos. How’s that for an answer?”
“Evasive.”
Claire laughed and fondled her ashtray. “I’ll be forty in May. So thanks for the subtraction.”
“It was sincere.”
“No, it wasn’t.”
Hook her now, get to the station early. “Claire, do I have political credibility with you?”
“Yes, you do.”
“Then let’s try this on the other. I’d like to see you outside our work for the union.”
Claire’s whole face softened; Da
Claire said, “Ted, I’m engaged”; Da
Da
“8:30.”
He’d be there early; pure cop, pure work. “I look forward to it.”
Claire De Haven had gotten herself back together, her face set and dignified. “So do I.”
Krugman back to Upshaw.
Da
“What for?”
“Those guys on your list are now being tailed. Dudley authorized it, so you owe him one, too.”
Da
“No. They’re what you might wanta call Dudley’s boys. You know, Homicide Bureau guys Dudley’s brought up from rookies. They’re smart guys, but they’ll only report to Dud.”