[Just discovering this LoCO feature?
Find the beginning by clicking here.] 

CLEAN BREAK

by

Lionel White

CHAPTER THREE

1

For a full five minutes after she heard the outside door close, Sherry Peatty sat motionless on the bed. There was a thoughtful, speculative expression in her usually very pretty, but listless eyes. The index finger of her right hand played with the tip of her small right ear.

At last she made up her mind. She was out of bed then, with a quick soundless movement, and she thrust her small feet into a pair of high heeled slippers and pulled a silk robe over her shoulders. She crossed the room and went down the hallway to the living room. She didn’t have to look up the telephone number in the book.

The man who answered the phone said that Val wasn’t in and asked who was calling. She told him her first name but it didn’t seem to mean anything to him. He hadn’t seen Val and he wasn’t expecting him. Also he didn’t know where he might be. Sherry used the telephone book then and tried a couple of bars and a cocktail lounge. Exasperated, she went back to the original number. She was about to dial it, when her own telephone rang suddenly from the box next to the table and she jumped, startled.

It was Val.

“You alone?”

She said at once that she was.

He told her he had just got the message that she had called. He wanted to know where George was.

“He’s gone out,” she said. “I’ve got to see you at once. Right away, Val.”

“Something wrong?” the voice asked, lazy, almost disinterested.

“Listen,” she said, “right away. Nothing wrong—just that I got to see you.”

The man’s voice was smooth, but still only half curious.

“I told you, honey,” he said, “that until you’re ready to leave that husband of yours, I don’t want any part of anything. I don’t want to get…”

“Listen,” Sherry said, urgency making her speak swiftly. “You’ll be interested. You’ll be plenty interested. Where can I meet you, Val? How soon?”

There was a long silence and then he spoke.

“Make it in front of the Plaza, say at a quarter to eight. I’ll drive by.”

She said that she’d be there.

Back in her bedroom and sitting before the dressing table, she thought, God damn him, if it wasn’t for George, he’d never dare treat me this way. Oddly enough, however, she didn’t blame Val—she blamed it all on George.

The thing which had first intrigued her about Val Cannon had been his colossal indifference. A woman who had never had the slightest difficulty in attracting men, she had at once been intrigued by the tall, dark, rather ugly man. She’d met him through the Malcolms; had run into him a half dozen times at their apartment during the afternoons. He and Bill Malcolm had some sort of connection and the two of them frequently hung around during the day time and played the horses over the phone, getting the results on the radio.

The man’s overwhelming casualness had first piqued her and then acted almost as a challenge.

It had finally happened one time when he had been alone in the Malcolms’ place and she had knocked at the door. They’d had a drink or two and one thing had led to another. They’d ended up in bed together and she had been pleased to note that the careless attitude of studied indifference had rapidly changed. But it had only changed for that one afternoon.

Later, they’d met outside several times.

Val drove a Cadillac convertible; he dressed expensively and he was a fast man with a dollar. He never talked about himself, never told her what he did or how he made his living. She soon took it for granted that he was mixed up in some sort of racket or other.

They hung around cocktail lounges, occasionally went out to the track together—staying well away from George’s window, of course. Once he had taken her to a bar up on Ninth Avenue, a dimly lighted, tough looking place. He’d told her that he owned a piece of it. From the looks of the men hanging around the booths and silently staring at her, she’d had the impression it was a sort of gang hangout. Val had given her the telephone number of the place and told her if she ever wanted to get in contact with him, to call him there and leave a message. Today had been the first time she’d called.

It would be the first time she’d seen him now in several weeks. In fact, since the night they’d spent together at the hotel. Val, that night, had made himself clear.

“It’s like this, kid,” he told her, “I like you. Like you a lot. But the trouble is, I’m liking you too damn much. I got no objections to laying some other guy’s wife, but I do object to falling in love with another guy’s doll. So from now on, I think it’s going to be best if we just forget about things.”

She’d tried to protest, to tell him that George, her husband, didn’t mean anything to her; that in fact, she couldn’t even stand to have him touch her any more.

“O.K.,” Val had said. “Leave him then.”

“And if I leave him, what then? Do we…”

He’d looked over at her, his eyes indifferent, almost cold.

“I’m not making bargains,” he said softly. “Leave him and we’ll see what happens. I’m not going to horse trade. You get rid of that bum you’re married to; get yourself free and clear. Then you and I can start fresh.”

She’d been furious, burned up. She’d wanted to spit on him and curse him. But she was crazier than ever about him and he must have known the power he had over her. He hadn’t moved an inch.

When they’d left the hotel the next morning, he’d dropped her off a few blocks from her apartment.

“Lemme hear from you,” he’d said.

She knew what he had meant. Let me hear from you when you have left your husband.

She had, at last, made up her mind to leave George Peatty. Her decision came on the very afternoon that he had come home and broken down and told her about the plan to rob the race track.

The doorman at the Plaza eyed her suspiciously as she walked back and forth in front of the main entrance of the hotel. She looked down several times at the tiny wrist watch and she knew that she still had a couple of minutes to wait. The doorman had asked if he could call her a cab, but she had shaken her head.

She was standing still, tapping her foot in irritation, when the Cadillac pulled around the circle and stopped opposite her. She started for the car, but the doorman reached in front of her and opened the door handle. He tipped his hat as she got in.

“Damn it, Val,” she said, “I wish you wouldn’t make me meet you on the street like this. That damned flunky thought I was out on the town.”

Val laughed.

“Where to, kid?” he asked.

“Any quiet spot where we can talk,” she said.

He nodded and was silent for a time as he swung the car into the traffic heading across town.

“Decided to dump old George at last?” he finally asked. 

She looked at him, a surge of sudden anger coming over her. But when she spoke, her voice was calm.

“Something more important than that, Val,” she said. “That is, if you consider money—say a million or so—important.”

He looked over at her quickly and whistled under his breath.

“We better find a quiet spot,” he said softly.

Twenty minutes later they were seated in a table-high booth in an almost deserted Chinese restaurant on Upper Broadway. Canned music drifted from a speaker on the wall over their heads and drowned out the sound of their voices as they talked in low tones. Neither did more than toy with the dishes in front of them.

Val listened quietly as Sherry told him of her conversation with George.

For several seconds, after she was through, he sat silent and thoughtful. Finally he looked up.

“You mean,” he said, “that your husband told you seriously that he and some mob are planning on knocking over the race track? I just can’t believe it.”

She looked at him, annoyed.

“You can believe it all right,” she said. “George may be a fool—in fact he is—but he’s no liar. Don’t forget, he works at the track; he’d be the logical guy to use as a fingerman on the job.”

Val whistled, under his breath.

“He’s crazy,” he said. “The guy’s nuts. It can’t be done.”

“Yeah, that’s what I told him,” Sherry said. “But he said that it was going to be done—that the job was all set up. They got the mob and they got everything set.”

“Who’s in it with him? He can’t be masterminding it alone, that’s for sure. I thought you always told me this husband of yours was strictly a square?”

Sherry shook her head.

“You can’t tell about George,” she said. “For me—I believe him.”

Val reached for the drink he had ordered and hadn’t touched so far. He stared for a long time at the girl before speaking.

“Look,” he said finally. “What’s your angle in this? Why are you telling me about it? I should think…”

“I’m telling you for a couple of reasons,” Sherry said, her eyes bright and hard. “Until I learned of this when George got home, I was all set to leave him. I guess you know why I was leaving, too. But now things are changed. If this deal goes through—if by some miracle they do knock off the track—George will be in the chips. He’ll have plenty.”

Quickly Val interrupted her.

“That’s all he needs, isn’t it?” he said, his thin lips cynical. 

“He’d still be George,” Sherry said. “With it or without it, he’d still be George.”

Val nodded.

“And you think, that let’s say they do pull the job and that George gets his cut, maybe I could take it away from him?”

Sherry stared him straight in the face and didn’t blush. She nodded her head slowly.

“Yes,” she said. “I think you could.”

There was a long interval of silence and they picked at their food. Neither was hungry.

“How about the others—any idea who they are? Any idea when this thing is to come off?” Val asked at last.

“Only this,” Sherry said, reaching for her handbag, and taking out her lipstick to repair her face. “I know George is having a meeting with the mob tonight. While he was cleaning up in the bathroom, I went through his clothes. I found a slip of paper. It said, ‘712 East 31st Street Room 411 Eight o’clock.’“

“Address mean anything to you?”

“Nothing.”

Val took a cigar from a thin leather case. He put it in his mouth but didn’t light it. For a long time again he thought before speaking.

“Kid,” he said at last, “I think we got something. If they’re having a meeting tonight, the chances are they’ll be making final plans. Most of the mob will be there. And they’ll take plenty of time. This thing, if it’s true, is a lot bigger than you think. You’re interested in George’s cut, but sweetheart, let me tell you something. George’s cut will probably be peanuts compared with the total take.”

Sherry looked up at him then, sudden surprise on her face. 

“What we gotta know,” Val continued, “is a little more about the over-all plan. You think George will tell you anything…”

“Not a chance,” Sherry interrupted. “I could see that he was scared stiff that he’d talked as much as he did. I don’t think I’ll find out any more until it’s over and done with. George is smart enough to know that my interest isn’t in what he’s going to pull, but only in the dough that it brings in.” 

Val smiled thinly and nodded.

“Probably right,” he said. He watched her closely as he continued to speak. “What we got to know,” he said, “is who’s at that meeting on Thirty-first Street and what goes on during it.”

“You mean…”

“I mean that one of us wants to get up there and get outside the door of that room and case the place.”

Sherry nodded, hesitantly.

“You’re the baby to do it,” Val said. “If by any chance your husband does run into you—that he leaves early or something—why tell him you just didn’t believe his story in the first place. Tell him the address fell out of his pocket when he took his coat off, that you read it and thought he might be two timing you.”

Sherry laughed.

“George knows damn well I wouldn’t care if he was,” she said.

“So what if he does know. You’re smart; you can handle it.”

A half hour later they left the restaurant and Val drove downtown. He dropped Sherry at Thirty-fourth Street.

“Take a cab and get out a half a block from the place,” he said. “I gotta couple of things to do, but I’ll be in the neighborhood a little later. George comes out and if he’s got anyone with him, I want to tail them. You see what you can find out, but be careful as hell. Don’t be seen if you can help it. I won’t plan to see you again tonight, but I’ll stop by tomorrow around noon, as soon as George leaves for the track.”

Sherry was stepping into a taxi as he pulled the Caddie away from the curb and turned back uptown.

# # #

2

Only Marvin Unger looked up at him, sharp and startled, when he finished speaking. Big Mike sat solidly on the couch, his legs spread and staring at a spot of floor between his large feet. Randy Kennan stretched out in a chair, fingers interlaced in back of his neck and his eyes closed. Peatty paced back and forth at one end of the room, nervously dropping ashes on the floor.

“You mean to say,” Unger said, “that there are going to be three more guys in this? Three more guys and that we’re not to even know who they are?” He sounded incredulous. 

“That’s right,” Johnny Clay said.

Unger almost snorted.

“What the hell is this anyway,” he snapped. “I don’t get it. First, why three more; secondly, why don’t we know who they are? Don’t you trust…”

Johnny stood up suddenly and his face was hard. His voice was tense with anger as he answered.

“Listen,” he said. “Let’s get something straight. Right now! I’m running this show. All the way through. And to answer your last question first—yeah, I trust you fine. But I don’t trust the three men I’m bringing in on the deal. If you guys don’t know who they are, then you can be sure they won’t know who you are. That make sense to you?”

He stopped for a moment then and looked at the others. No one said anything.

“These guys we got to have,” he said then. “One of them I need for the job with the rifle. Somebody’s got to handle that and I don’t think any of you want to do it.”

Once more he looked at them, one after the other. Once more no one answered him.

“I need a second guy for the rumble in the lobby,” he said. “The third one runs interference for me when I leave that office. These men are not going to be in on the basic scheme. They’re getting paid to perform certain definite duties at a certain definite time. They’re not cutting in on the take. They will be paid a flat price to do a straight job.”

Kennan opened his eyes and looked at Johnny. He winked, imperceptibly and so that the others didn’t see it.

“Johnny’s right, Unger,” he said. “They don’t know who we are, or what the deal is, so much the better. And if we don’t know who they are, what’s the difference. If you don’t know something, you can’t talk about it.”

Big Mike grunted.

“We can trust Johnny to handle that end all right,” he said. 

Unger still didn’t seem satisfied.

“If they don’t know anything about the basic plan, about the job,” he asked, “then why are they doing it? How do they know they’re going to get paid if they don’t know where the dough’s coming from?”

“Simple,” Johnny said. “These boys are straight hoods. They get paid in advance. Five grand for the guy with the rifle; twenty-five hundred apiece for each of the others.”

This time they all looked up at Johnny, startled.

It was Marvin Unger, however, who spoke.

“Ten thousand dollars,” he said, aghast. “Where in the hell are you…”

Johnny cut in quick.

“Yeah, ten grand,” he said. “And cheap. For Christ sake, we’re shooting for between a million and a half and two million dollars. What the hell are you doing, screaming about a lousy ten grand?”

For the first time George Peatty spoke up.

“It isn’t that, Johnny,” he said, “it’s just that where are we going to get the ten grand from.”

Johnny looked at him coldly.

“What the hell do I care where you get it from,” he said caustically. “There are four of you—that’s twenty-five hundred apiece. You’ll just have to get it up.”

Unger interrupted angrily.

“Fine,” he said, “just get it up. So what about you—you going to get your share up too?”

Johnny went over to the couch and sat down before answering.

“Listen,” he said, at last, his voice unhurried. “Let’s get one thing straight. This is my caper; I’m setting it up, I’m doing the brain work and the planning. I’m the one who figured it out and got you guys together. I’ve worked four damned long years perfecting this thing. Also, I’m the guy who’s taking the big chance when we pull the job. I’m the guy who goes in with the chopper under his arm.

“Each one of you is working; each one has a job. You got some sort of income, some sort of legit connections. So go to the banks if you got any dough; borrow from ‘em if you haven’t. Go to the loan sharks if you can’t get it from the banks. It’s the least you can do. We’re shooting for real money; you can’t be pikers if you want in on this deal.”

He turned suddenly to Marvin Unger.

“You,” he said, “what about you? You’re supposed to be financing this thing. What the hell do you think you’re in this for—a few lousy sandwiches, a flop for a couple of weeks and a messenger service that any kid could handle? You’re too goddamn yellow to waltz in on the caper itself—the least you can do is get up some dough!”

Unger reddened and for a moment looked sheepish.

Kennan stood up and stretched.

“I’m not at all sure, Johnny,” he said, “that I can get any dough. “I’m head over …” 

Big Mike and Peatty both started to talk at once, but Johnny interrupted them.

“All right,” he said, “let’s settle it this way. We’ll bring in three more boys; cut ‘em in on the total take that you guys are splitting. It’s simple enough.”

They began to protest all at once and Johnny suddenly pounded the table in front of him.

“For Christ sake, quiet down,” he said. “You want everyone on the block to hear you?”

Unger spoke then as the others suddenly stopped talking.

“All right,” he said. “I guess it’s up to me. I’ll raise the ten grand. Only thing is,” he added petulantly, “I feel I should be reimbursed…”

Randy Kennan guffawed.

“Haw,” he said. “Reimbursed! Brother, you’re being reimbursed several hundred thousand dollars worth. However, once we pull this job and get the dough, I’m perfectly willing to see you get an extra ten off the top.”

The others agreed and Johnny turned back to the rolled up drawing lying on the table.

 

“Well, that’s that, then,” he said. “I’ll see that the contacts are made, that the three boys are arranged for. Just be sure I got the money to operate on. I’ll need half of it by the first of this next week; the other half the day before the big race.”

He reached down and picked up the roll of paper and carefully spread it out.

“This is rough,” he said. “It’s a drawing of the clubhouse and track as I remember it. Randy,” he turned toward the cop, “you got to get me a damned good street map of the whole district. And you, George, I want you and Mike to go over this drawing with me careful as hell. I want to bring it completely up to date. Add or subtract even the slightest change which may have been made. Even if it’s something as unimportant as the placing of a soda stand.”

The four men in the room crowded around him looking down at the two foot square of paper he spread out. Randy Kennan pulled a tall piano lamp over and took the shade off so that they could see better.

The room was thick with smoke and Unger began to cough. He left the table and walked to the window and started to raise it. Johnny turned toward him at once.

“Goddamn it,” he said, “keep that window closed. You want…”

“It only opens on a court,” Unger said.

“I don’t care, keep it closed.” He turned back to the table.

He reached down with the yellow pencil in his right hand so that it traced a line from the section marked off “clubhouse” to the main entrance gate.

“This,” he began, and then his voice went suddenly silent. He lifted his head and listened intently. In a moment he looked up at the others who were staring at him. He started to speak again, but quickly whirled and took three swift steps across the room. His hand reached out and he turned the snap lock on the front door of the apartment and jerked it open.

There was a quick short cry and the sound of a sudden scuffle.

A minute later and he was back in the room.

He held the girl by both arms as he pulled her in with him. She started to scream again and one of his hands reached up and covered her mouth.

“Close that door!” He snapped out the command as he half carried the girl across the room.

Randy Kennan quickly kicked the door shut. Mike and Unger stood in the center of the room, motionless and speechless. George Peatty was completely white and he weaved on his feet. He looked as though he were about to faint.

Johnny took his right hand from over the girl’s mouth and simultaneously his left hand shot out and his fist caught her flush on the chin. She sank back on the couch unconscious.

# # #

3

“Oh my God, Sherry!”

The four men took their eyes from the girl and stared at George Peatty as the words left his mouth.

Randy Kennan was the first to recover. He was across the room in a flash. He spoke as he pulled the blackjack from his hip pocket.

“You stupid, double-crossing, son of a bitch,” he said. He lifted the blackjack.

George was still staring helplessly at his wife as the weapon descended across the front of his forehead. He fell slowly to the floor.

Johnny reached the cop as his foot started back to kick the fallen man.

“Hold it,” he said. “Hold it, boy. Get the girl in the other room before she comes to. We’ll bring this bastard around and find out what this is all about. And keep it as quiet as you can. We don’t want a rumble.”

Unger was looking pale and he went over to a chair and sat down, his eyes still on the girl. Big Mike looked at Peatty for a moment and then went into the kitchen. He came back with a glass of water and threw it into the fallen man’s face.

“Whoever she is,” he said, “George knows her. But he wasn’t expecting her; he was as surprised as any of us.”

Kennan had lifted Sherry’s slight, unconscious form and carried her into the other room. He closed the door behind himself and was gone several minutes before he returned. He held a small pocketbook in his hand and was carrying a driver’s license.

“Tied her up and gagged her,” he said. “It’s his wife.”

Johnny and Mike between them had lifted George Peatty up and half sat him on the couch. He was still unconscious.

“Christ,” Mike said, “you shouldn’t of hit him so hard. You maybe fractured his skull.”

Randy grunted.

“Wish I had,” he said. “The bastard. But don’t worry. I didn’t. I know how to hit them safe.”

“Well, let’s get him so he can talk,” Johnny said. 

Unger looked up then.

“He’s supposed to be your friend, Clay,” he said, “how well …”

“I know him,” Johnny said shortly. “Let’s just get the story before we go off half cocked.”

“He must have told her,” Randy said. “The damn fool, he must have told her about the meet.”

Peatty began to groan and a moment later his eyes opened. He looked up then, dazed, for a second. His eyes cleared and he darted a glance around the room. They could see that he was looking for his wife.

Johnny reached down and grabbed him by the lapels of his coat.

“O.K., George,” he said. “O.K., boy. Let’s have it. Quick!”

Peatty looked up at him, watery blue eyes wide with fear. “Jesus, Johnny,” he said, “she must a followed me. She must have followed me here. Where…”

“She’s in the other room,” Johnny said. “Never mind about her. Just tell me; what have you told her—what does she know?”

“Nothing,” George said, stuttering to get the words out. “I swear to God she don’t know anything. She must have followed me.”

He looked up and his eyes were wide and beseeching. “Johnny—Johnny, don’t hurt her. She’s—well, she doesn’t mean anything.”

Mike walked over in front of them. He stared coldly at George.

“You give her this address?”

George shook his head violently. “God no!” he said. “I never even…”

Randy got up and slapped his face hard.

“Shut up,” he said. “God damn it, Johnny, this does it. If this bastard’s been talking…”

“I haven’t,” Peatty said. “I swear I haven’t. She followed me.”

“How much do you suppose she heard?” Johnny said.

Randy and Mike both shrugged.

“Couldn’t have heard too much,” Randy said. “But that isn’t the point. What was she doing at that door listening? Why did she come? That’s what we got to find out.”

Marvin Unger crossed the room and spoke to Johnny.

“You got to get her out of here,” he said. “We can’t have anything happen here.”

Johnny sat down on the couch and thought for several minutes. Finally he looked up.

“All right,” he said. “There’s only one thing to do. First, get Peatty out. You Randy, take him home; stick with him. Don’t let him out of your sight. Mike, you and Unger take a powder for a while. Go for a long walk. I’m going to find out what she was doing here; what she knows.”

Peatty looked over at Johnny, his eyes wild.

“God,” he said, “don’t hurt her. Don’t do anything to her!” 

“I’ll …”

Peatty interrupted him.

“Listen, Johnny,” he said. “I had the address here written down. I know it was crazy, but I thought I might forget it. She probably found it and came here. Maybe she thought I was two-timing her or something. Yeah, that was probably it. It couldn’t have anything to do with the…”

“Pipe down,” Randy said, making a threatening gesture.

“I won’t hurt her,” Johnny said. “But George, get one thing straight. I’m not letting anything interfere with this job. I’ve planned it too long; there’s too much at stake. Nothing is going to crap up this deal—you or your goddamned wife or anything else.”

“She doesn’t know anything. She…”

“I’ll find out what she knows,” Johnny said. “Get up now and go with Randy. Don’t give him no trouble. You’re telling the truth then you got nothing to worry about.”

“Johnny,” Peatty said. “Please don’t…”

Johnny Clay looked at him coldly.

“I’m going to find out what she knows,” he said. “If she knows too much, then she’s got to be cooled off until this thing is over. Someway she’s got to be cooled.”

“You can’t do it to her here,” Unger said hurriedly. “Jesus, Clay, you wouldn’t …” 

“You damned fool,” he said, “I’m not going to kill her. But I am going to find out the score. If you’re nervous, take a powder.”

Big Mike reached over and his ham-like hand grabbed Peatty by the shoulder and he pulled him to his feet.

“I’ll go along with Randy,” he said. “We’ll take George out for a ride around the park for an hour or an hour and a half. You go ahead and do what you have to do.”

A moment later he pushed the other man in front of him through the door. Randy followed on their heels.

Unger waited until they were gone and then turned to Johnny.

“I’ll go out for a while,” he said. “I don’t want to…” 

“Go ahead,” Johnny said.

He turned to the bedroom as the other man put his hat on.

“Don’t let this throw you,” he said, over his shoulder. “Peatty himself is all right. I know he’s O.K. About the dame—well, we’ll soon find out. When you’re shooting for this kind of dough,” he added, “you have to expect trouble. It never comes easy. And I’d just as soon have the trouble now as later.”

Unger didn’t answer. He didn’t look happy as he left the apartment.

Johnny hesitated for a minute and then turned and went to the door and locked it after the other man. He looked over toward the bedroom door then for a minute, but instead of going in that direction, turned and went into the kitchen. He poured a stiff shot of Scotch in a water glass and downed it without a chaser.

Then he went to the bedroom.

She lay in a crumpled heap on the bed, her hands bound with a necktie at her back. Her feet were also tied and her short skirt was hitched up almost to her waist.

Johnny tried to keep his eyes from the soft bare flesh of her thighs as he approached. He leaned down and with one hand turned her over so that she lay on her back facing up at him. 

Her huge midnight eyes were wide open and they stared into his own.

He reached under her head and untied the handkerchief gagging her mouth. There was a single drop of blood on her chin.

He felt around and behind her and found the knot binding her wrists.

Untying it, he said, “One God damn peep out of you and I’ll knock your teeth down your pretty throat.”

As he released her hands he looked once more into her face. He looked for the fear that he knew he would find there. She was looking right at him. She was laughing.

# # #

Tune in next week for the next chapter of Clean Break!

Stark House Sunday Serial is brought to you by the Lost Coast Outpost and Stark House Press.

Based in Eureka, California since 1999, Stark House Press brings you reprints of some of the best in fantasy, supernatural fiction, mystery and suspense in attractive trade paperback editions. Most have new introductions, complete bibliographies and two or more books in one volume! 

More info at StarkHousePress.com.