Read Online 361 by Donald E. Westlake - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Donald E. Westlake
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with you?”
“Amington Hotel.”
“I’ll call you Monday.”
He went upstairs with us. His wife showed up long enough to say goodbye. She smiled and said, “I hope you didn’t sell him a treasure map. I don’t think I could take another treasure map.”
Bill grinned. “No treasure map,” he said.
Beeworthy handed her his cup. “Coffee,” he said.
He stood in the doorway as we went down the walk to the car. He looked too big for the house. He said, “I’ll call you Monday.”
Thirteen
Bill twisted the car around side streets back to Woodhaven Boulevard. “Where to?”
“Manhattan,” I said.
“Okay.” He made a right turn. “Any place special?”
“Lafayette Street. Johnson’s office.”
“You trust him now?”
“Part of the way. I don’t think he’d lie to us. He seems to have the idea he could help. I want to know how.”
“What street was that? You better look it up.”
I opened the glove compartment and got out the map and street guide. It wasn’t that tough to find. But the nearest parking space was four blocks away. We walked back and took the elevator to the fifth floor. It was a rundown building with green halls. Johnson’s office was 508, to the right.
It was one room. Desk, filing cabinet, wastebasket, two chairs, all bought secondhand. Walls the same green as the hall. One window, with a view of a tarred bumpy roof and beyond it a brick building side. The ceiling paint was flaking.
Johnson stood in the corner, wedged between a wall-turn and the filing cabinet. His one arm was up resting on top of the cabinet. His face was bloody. He looked as though he’d been standing there a long time.
He turned his head slowly when we came in. “Hello,” he said. His voice was low and flat, his pronunciation bad. His lips were puffed. “I was going to call you,” he said carefully.
We went over and took his arms and led him over to his desk. We sat him down and I said, “Where’s the head?”
“Left.”
I went down the hall to the left and found it. The tile floor was filthy. I got a lot of paper towels, some wet and some dry, and went back.
Bill had a bottle and glass out of a drawer. He was pouring into the glass. I said, “Let me wash the face first.”
He grunted when I touched the towels to his face. Wet first, and then dry. Somebody’d been wearing a ring. He had scrapes on both cheeks and around his mouth. Bill handed him the glass and he said, “Thanks.”
I wet a couple of towels from the bottle. When he put the glass down, I said, “Hold still.”
He tried to jump away when I pressed the towels to the scrapes, but I held his head. “Christ sake!” he shouted. “Christ sake!”
I finished and stepped back. “Okay, have another snort.”
He did, and Bill handed him a lit cigarette. His hands were shaking.
I said, “How long ago?”
“Half an hour? Fifteen minutes? I don’t know. I just stood there.”
“Why were you going to call us?”
He motioned vaguely at his face. “This was because of you. They wanted to know where you were.”
“And you told them.”
He looked down at his hands. “Not at first.”
“It’s all right. We’ve been looking for them, too. You did right telling them.”
He emptied the glass and reached for the bottle. He drank from the bottle.
I said, “Where did they connect you with us? They didn’t see us together, or they’d know where to find us. You’ve mentioned our names to somebody.”
He coughed and dragged on the cigarette. “Half a dozen people. A couple cops I know, a reporter, a guy works for one of the big agencies.”
“It’s one of them. You find out which one. You need any money?”
“Not now. Later on, maybe. Unless you could advance me twenty.”
I nodded at Bill. He dragged out his wallet and gave Johnson two tens.
I said, “Move as quick as you can. And don’t be afraid to talk. If they come after you again, tell them anything they want to know. It’s
“Amington Hotel.”
“I’ll call you Monday.”
He went upstairs with us. His wife showed up long enough to say goodbye. She smiled and said, “I hope you didn’t sell him a treasure map. I don’t think I could take another treasure map.”
Bill grinned. “No treasure map,” he said.
Beeworthy handed her his cup. “Coffee,” he said.
He stood in the doorway as we went down the walk to the car. He looked too big for the house. He said, “I’ll call you Monday.”
Thirteen
Bill twisted the car around side streets back to Woodhaven Boulevard. “Where to?”
“Manhattan,” I said.
“Okay.” He made a right turn. “Any place special?”
“Lafayette Street. Johnson’s office.”
“You trust him now?”
“Part of the way. I don’t think he’d lie to us. He seems to have the idea he could help. I want to know how.”
“What street was that? You better look it up.”
I opened the glove compartment and got out the map and street guide. It wasn’t that tough to find. But the nearest parking space was four blocks away. We walked back and took the elevator to the fifth floor. It was a rundown building with green halls. Johnson’s office was 508, to the right.
It was one room. Desk, filing cabinet, wastebasket, two chairs, all bought secondhand. Walls the same green as the hall. One window, with a view of a tarred bumpy roof and beyond it a brick building side. The ceiling paint was flaking.
Johnson stood in the corner, wedged between a wall-turn and the filing cabinet. His one arm was up resting on top of the cabinet. His face was bloody. He looked as though he’d been standing there a long time.
He turned his head slowly when we came in. “Hello,” he said. His voice was low and flat, his pronunciation bad. His lips were puffed. “I was going to call you,” he said carefully.
We went over and took his arms and led him over to his desk. We sat him down and I said, “Where’s the head?”
“Left.”
I went down the hall to the left and found it. The tile floor was filthy. I got a lot of paper towels, some wet and some dry, and went back.
Bill had a bottle and glass out of a drawer. He was pouring into the glass. I said, “Let me wash the face first.”
He grunted when I touched the towels to his face. Wet first, and then dry. Somebody’d been wearing a ring. He had scrapes on both cheeks and around his mouth. Bill handed him the glass and he said, “Thanks.”
I wet a couple of towels from the bottle. When he put the glass down, I said, “Hold still.”
He tried to jump away when I pressed the towels to the scrapes, but I held his head. “Christ sake!” he shouted. “Christ sake!”
I finished and stepped back. “Okay, have another snort.”
He did, and Bill handed him a lit cigarette. His hands were shaking.
I said, “How long ago?”
“Half an hour? Fifteen minutes? I don’t know. I just stood there.”
“Why were you going to call us?”
He motioned vaguely at his face. “This was because of you. They wanted to know where you were.”
“And you told them.”
He looked down at his hands. “Not at first.”
“It’s all right. We’ve been looking for them, too. You did right telling them.”
He emptied the glass and reached for the bottle. He drank from the bottle.
I said, “Where did they connect you with us? They didn’t see us together, or they’d know where to find us. You’ve mentioned our names to somebody.”
He coughed and dragged on the cigarette. “Half a dozen people. A couple cops I know, a reporter, a guy works for one of the big agencies.”
“It’s one of them. You find out which one. You need any money?”
“Not now. Later on, maybe. Unless you could advance me twenty.”
I nodded at Bill. He dragged out his wallet and gave Johnson two tens.
I said, “Move as quick as you can. And don’t be afraid to talk. If they come after you again, tell them anything they want to know. It’s
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