Part 23 (1/2)
”The girls said she went with Caine into his dressing room. She was usually in there during his breaks. They thought they were being on the sly, but everyone knew.”
”So maybe Evie did do it,” said Kroun.
”When we find her we'll ask her,” I said. ”And Hoyle. And Ruzzo. And Mitch.e.l.l.” All I needed was to check hands and arms for scratches. I thought about sharing that detail with Kroun, but held back. Mitch.e.l.l was still his boy.
Under his protection.
”Mitch.e.l.l?” Derner was surprised and glanced uneasily at Kroun for his reaction, only there was none.
”Just covering the bases,” I added. ”Mr. Kroun doesn't mind.”
”It's business,” Kroun put in with a snort. ”Biz-iii-nessss.”
I got Derner's attention back. ”Have you seen Mitch.e.l.l tonight?”
”Only earlier. I heard he left before the ruckus.”
”Find out for sure. See to it the guys are looking for all five of them and it's only to talk. I want everyone alive and undamaged. Let the boys know when I say talk I mean only talk. No sparring sessions, no turkey shoots.”
”What if the ones they're after shoot first?”
He got a look from me.
”Okay-okay!” He left to take care of things. After a minute of thinking about it, I moved to the desk and the phone there. Kroun still had his feet up on the edge.
”Nice shoes,” I said.
”Thanks.”
I dialed Lady Crymsyn's lobby phone.
Wilton answered pretty fast this time. ”Yes, Mr. Fleming?”
”How di-ahh, never mind. Everything going okay there?”
”No problems. We had a good night. Good shows, lotta people. You want I should get Mr. Escott?”
”Nah. Just tell him or Bobbi that I won't be back, so they'll have to close. It's business.” They'd both understand.
Wilton said he'd pa.s.s the message, and I hung up.
”Biz-iii-nessss,” Kroun drawled, then snorted again.
I checked the clock. ”It's pretty late. If you're tired...”
”Just resting my eyes, kid. There's still one more errand to run tonight.”
Kroun had surprised me about overseeing the transport job. I'd have thought he'd want to stay well clear of a potential disaster if anything went wrong. Instead, he sat in the front seat of Gordy's Caddy with me on the pa.s.senger side. We were parked just up the street from Caine's hotel. It was so late that only the deep-night creeps were out- which included us and a select few others.
A gray panel truck sat backed into the alley between the hotel and the next building over. I couldn't see what was going on. That was good. None of us wanted the activity there to be visible to pa.s.sing cars. I was mostly worried about cops. They would be the only others out at this hour. A sharp one might wonder why laundry was being delivered at this time of the morning.
Strome was one of the laundrymen. He'd turned up at the Nightcrawler with a couple of shut-mouthed goons, coverall uniforms, and the truck. An hour after the club was closed and the last straggling worker left, Strome helped the goons load in an exceptionally heavy laundry basket, then they drove off. Kroun and I followed at a distance.
Things went without a hitch. About five minutes after parking in the alley, Strome and his crew were out again and driving away. They must have used the service elevator instead of the fire escape stairs to get up to the right floor.
No matter, so long as they weren't caught. Kroun had supplied the key. Wiped clean, it was to be dropped on the desk in the room, just like he told the clerk earlier.
There would be a h.e.l.l of a stink over this tomorrow. I felt sorry for the poor maid, who'd likely be the one to find the body. I also hoped the night clerk would be unhelpful about descriptions of Kroun and me. When it came down to it, we had a pretty lousy cover. Two mystery men go up to Caine's room. Caine is found dead there the next day, but not seen to come in by the front entrance. Any halfway-good cop would tear into that pretty quick and backtrack to the Nightcrawler. The best I could expect from our interference was to confuse things, buy some time to find the killer.
Then-if the hideous head pain would leave me alone for long enough-I could whammy him or her to marching in to the D.A.'s office to dictate a complete confession. We'd all be off the hook.
Of course, that was the ideal way for this to turn out. I focused on thinking about it, rather than the countless ways it could go wrong.
Kroun had cut the motor for those five minutes. He started the car again, and the heater blasted air against my legs.
I winced. ”You still cold?” he asked.
”Yeah.” I'd been fighting off s.h.i.+vering again, vowing to buy a heavier coat.
”Go home then. Get some sleep.” He didn't look remotely tired himself.
”I need to see to things.”
”What things? We're finished here. Even those guys are flying back to their roost.” He gestured ahead, where the taillights of the panel truck made a turn and vanished. ”Where's home?”
”Just take me to my club.”
”You live there?”
”I flop in the office sometimes. When it's a late night.”
”That's what we have here, ladies and gentlemen. A late night. Which way?”
As before, I gave directions, and he drove. He seemed to enjoy hauling the big car around corners.
Kroun dropped me at the front of Crymsyn, and said he knew how to get back to his hotel from there.
”Why are your lights still on?” he asked. ”Someone in inside?”
”We leave 'em on to scare off burglars.” That was better than trying to explain about Myrna.
He tossed an easy good night at me and drove off, the well-tuned Caddy barely making a sound. I hurried to unlock Crymsyn's front doors.
Kroun was right about this chill not being related to winter. I shook from it, but my teeth weren't chattering.