Teddy was sitting on a chair half-turned from the junk desk that came with the furnished apartment. He brought his arm back to lay it on the desk, not looking, and pushed her rental agreement and check from the Bankers Association off the desk. Teddy looked down at the floor, then bent down and picked up the envelope the check was in, leaving the rental agreement.
He said, “What’s this?”
“A reward they gave me?”
“For what?”
Teddy looked like the kind would get a kick out of her answer, so she told him. “Shooting a bank robber.”
He stared at her for a few minutes.
“You’re telling me you’re in a bank while the guy’s robbing it?” He saw her shaking her head, but knew everything and said, “What were you doing with a gun, in a bank?” Now he seemed confused, frowning. “You were with the guy you shot?”
Louly said, “You want to hear what happened?”
She began telling him how this convict Joe Young stole her stepfather’s car and was holding her against her will in a tourist cabin when the police came looking for him and she was trapped in the cabin with a wanted man. Got that far and saw Teddy wasn’t listening. He had the check out of the envelope and was glancing at the letter from the Bankers Association, thanking her for her courageous act. Teddy looked up.
“What were you going to do with this?”
“I thought I’d put it in the bank.”
“Sweetheart, banks are shaky. Let me take care of it for you. Some guy’ll come along and sell you something.”
Louly made a face and said, “Gee, I don’t know,” like she had anything to say about it.
Teddy slipped the check inside his Chesterfield saying, “Don’t tell me you don’t trust your own boss.”
She had a feeling the young guy, if he had been a fighter, might say something in a kidding way—if it would work with his accent—She’s a big girl, can take care of her own money. But he didn’t. He shrugged.
This evening, Kitty was serving sidecars to three young hotshots at a table in the bar, bringing them each two cocktails at a time so they wouldn’t die of thirst between drinks, Kitty with a smile frozen to her face.
She was waiting for Teddy. When he came in she’d make herself walk up to him and ask for her $500, because her mom had to have an operation and they didn’t have the money, account of their cotton crop had failed this past summer, as so many did, dried to kernels and blew away. She had to see that her mom had her operation.
And Teddy’ll say, You’re lying.
She looked toward the foyer—her story ready, though not anxious to try it on this gangster—and there was Carl Webster.
It was, it was Carl in his raincoat hanging open and his hat that had to sit just right, Carl holding a worn leather grip and standing with a piano player she recognized, both of them looking her way and grinning. Now the piano player was taking the grip from Carl and heading for the coat check and Carl was coming this way and Kitty felt her frozen smile thaw and heard her own voice in her mind say, My God, look at him. She wanted to run into his arms and tell him she was sorry for taking a powder on him, leaving Tulsa the way she did, and thought of that blues song the colored girl sang about going back to Tulsa. He was coming through the bar with only kind of a smile but his eyes not leaving hers.
One of the hotshots was saying, “Kitty Cat, pay attention. What do I have here?” Another one said, “What’s wrong with her?” The first one said, “Take this, Kitty Cat, and fill it with nuts and bring us more sidecars, if you’re not busy.”
She felt Carl’s arms come around her and she slid her bare arms inside his open raincoat, getting in there tight against him and feeling his gun between them, his suitcoat open, too. They were eye to eye grinning and now they were kissing and he was good, Kitty loving his smell of bay rum and whiskey but hearing a hotshot trying to ruin it, the hotshot saying, “Kitty Cat, the hell you doing with this bird?”
They stopped kissing but kept their hands on each other. Carl said, “That’s what they call you, Kitty Cat?”
“These fellas are the only ones.”
Carl was looking at them past her red hair straightened with an iron and brushed as hard as she could stroke it. Carl said to them, “Fellas, don’t call her Kitty Cat no more. She doesn’t like it.”
She said close to him, “It’s all right, they’re just drunk.”
“You want to be called Kitty Cat? Like you’re their pet?”
She hadn’t thought of it like that, but said, “Well, I’d rather not,” knowing she didn’t have to work here or be Kitty, or have to work anywhere or have to stay in Kansas City; knowing it because he had come to get her and she wasn’t alone now.
The hotshots lounging at the table were after Carl now in their lazy way, wanting to know who the hell he was and what he thought he was doing, saying things like, “Who the fug you think you are?”
Carl moved Louly aside, took the dish one of them was holding and handed it to her. “They want some nuts.” She looked confused holding the dish. Carl said, “Why don’t you get ’em some?” She started toward the bar as he turned to the table.
Carl said, “I’m sorry if I disturbed you,” and leaned over to get closer to them, placing his hands flat on the table, his raincoat and suitcoat hanging open. “But don’t call her Kitty Cat again, okay?” Carl’s tone quiet. “You do, I’ll throw you girls out on the street.” There was a silence as he kept looking at their upturned faces, young guys about Carl’s age, giving them time to see his holstered revolver and make a judgment about him and say something to him if they had the nerve. Their time ran out and he turned to Kitty bringing the dish of peanuts.
She said, “I bet I just lost my job.”
“What do you need it for?” Carl said, scooping up a handful of nuts. “You got me.”
They went to the servants’ quarters in back to what looked like a dressing room for showgirls: a mess of makeup at a row of vanities, clothes thrown on chairs, dozens of pairs of teddies hanging from an overhead pipe, a pile of torn ones in a trash basket and on the floor around it. Carl noticed the bathroom door closed while Louly put on her street clothes, Louly telling him she couldn’t wait to get out of here.
“They’re so confident the way they treat you. Especially the real rich ones, copping a feel whenever they want.” But Teddy had her reward money, damn it, and she didn’t want to leave without it.
“What’s he doing with it?”
“I don’t have any idea.”
“We’ll go see him and get it.”
Carl walked toward the dozens of teddies hanging across the room wall to wall.
“I’ve got a story I made up,” Louly said. “I tell him my mom needs money for an operation.”
“It’s yours—why you have to make up a story?”
“You don’t know him.”
Carl parted the wall of teddies to look at the rest of the room. “I read up on him in Marshals Service reports on Kansas City. Teddy supervises Jackson County precinct captains.” Carl stepped through the underwear toward a window that looked out on part of the backyard, a garden illuminated by a spotlight mounted on the house. “Teddy’s got four hundred men under him, some of ’em ex-convicts. His bodyguard did time in Oklahoma. Luigi Tessa.”
He walked back to the curtain of teddies and parted them as Louly said, “Luigi? That’s his name?”
“He’s called Lou. From that coal mine district.”
“Was he a prizefighter?”
“Yeah, but he wasn’t any good. He went to work for the Black Hand some boys started up again, selling protection to Italian stores and restaurants. The owners are told, leave a thousand or so a month at the Choctaw Brick Company’s abandoned works or some night your place of business goes up in flames. Tessa was caught and convicted of arson and did six years at Atoka, that’s a prison farm. He came out—now they’d tell the owner of the business, pay up or some night when you aren’t looking you get shot. This time th
ey came after Tessa with a couple of homicide warrants.”
“If they know he’s here,” Louly said, “why don’t they come get him?”
“You’re in Kansas City. They can’t get a judge to sign the extradition order.”
They heard the toilet flush.
Both looked at the bathroom door as it opened, swinging in. From where she stood Louly had a direct view inside. She said, “I didn’t know anyone was in there. You entertain the old guys?”
Carl, standing to the side, heard a girl say, “You know what wears you out? Acting like you’re having a good time.”
“Smiling,” Louly said, “till your face aches.”
“Yeah, but I made sixty bucks. Not bad, uh? Now I go upstairs and work the ballroom.”
She came out in her black stockings and heels, the crotch of her teddy hanging open, unsnapped.
Carl said, “Heidi?” stepping out of the wall of underwear. “Sounds like you’re doing okay.”
It wasn’t the same as at the roadhouse, Carl appearing and Heidi throwing herself at him, old friends. This time she said, “Oh, shit. How in the world did you find us?”
“You know her?” Louly said, and to Heidi, “He came looking for me, not you.” Serious about it.
“Are you kidding?” Heidi said. “He’s looking for Jack, wants to take him back to Oklahoma.”
“I swear,” Carl said to Louly, “you’re the reason I’m here.” He turned to Heidi, noticing her crotch hanging open, “But if Jack’s around, I wouldn’t mind saying hello to him. Where y’all staying?”
Heidi stood with her legs apart, hands on her hips. “You think I’d tell you?”
“I swear I don’t have a warrant,” Carl said.
“You can shoot him. How’d you know to come here?”
“That piano player, McShann, told me a girl named Kitty worked here. Go up and ask him.”
She stared at Carl like she might be thinking about it. Now she slipped her hands down her hips, turned around to snap herself up, squirmed to adjust the fit and turned back to Carl. “You could take him back to Oklahoma if you wanted, couldn’t you? With or without a warrant.”
“Now you want me to arrest him?”
“How about for taking that reporter’s car?”
“I could.”
“Why don’t you?”
“He’s in some trouble, huh?”
“Teddy says Jack owes him twenty-five hundred and has to pay it by tomorrow. Jack doesn’t owe him, and wouldn’t pay him if he had it.”
“Why doesn’t he run?”
“The car won’t start.”
“Boost another one.”
“Teddy says if he leaves the house he’s dead. Carl, all you have to do is walk in and make out like you’re arresting him, taking him back to Oklahoma.”
“If he’s charged with anything he’ll likely do time.”
“That’s better’n getting shot and dumped in the river.”
“They don’t mess around here, do they?”
“They’re mean and evil,” Heidi said. “Tell me you’ll arrest him—please?”
“Tell me the truth,” Carl said, “is this to save him or take him off your hands?”
Heidi said, “Would it matter?” And said, “Elodie’s working here and Jack’s making eyes at her.”
“She quit selling it?”
“’Cause of the True Detective writer. She wrote to him and is waiting to hear if he loves her.”
“You think they’ve done it yet?”
“I doubt it.”
“Write down your address.”
Heidi took her purse to a vanity and crouched over it. Kitty came over to stand by Carl.
“You sure know all the whores, don’t you?”
He said, “Be nice.”
Heidi came over now to hand him a piece of notepaper folded. She said, “Make it before noon, okay?” She opened the door to leave, stopped short and said, “Lou—”
Lou Tessa, wearing a tuxedo, came in looking at Carl. He turned to Heidi standing in the doorway and said, “You waiting for the streetcar?”
Heidi rolled her eyes at Carl and walked out, and Louly said to him, “We were just talking about you.”
Tessa said, “Yes?”
“Carl told me all about you.”
Carl got out his I.D. and star, wishing Louly hadn’t said that. Who he was. He offered his hand.
Tessa said, “I know who you are,” not taking his hand, and Carl got ready for whatever was coming. Tessa said to Kitty, “Teddy wants to see you,” then turned to Carl with, “You too, sport.”
Carl could see this as a movie set, the office of a guy who ran a nightclub, all white and chrome, potted palms, photos of celebrities and Tom Pendergast on the wall, a pale desk with round corners where Teddy Ritz sat waiting.
His manager, Johnny, came past them to stand at the side of the desk and light a cigaret. He said to Carl, “I’ll tell you this once. You get frisky, Lou will knock your head off.”
Carl wondered if he meant Lou Tessa would use his fists and looked around. No, Lou Tessa in his tux was holding a baseball bat.
Teddy said, “What’s going on?” to Louly, ignoring Carl and sounding surprised. “You want to get fired?”
She was looking at celebrity photos, at Will Rogers on the wall, Amelia Earhart and that flyer with the eye patch, Wiley Post. She turned to Teddy. “I’ve already quit.”
Teddy frowned. “What’re you talking about?”
“She means she’s leaving,” Carl said, “after you return her check. Or keep it and give her cash.”
“Before I talk to you,” Teddy said, “I want you to remove your weapon. Hand it to Johnny.”
Carl paused, wondering about delivering his line. But it wouldn’t make sense, it wasn’t that kind of situation. He wondered if he could get by saying, The only time I pull it…
But Teddy was saying, “These guests of mine you insult to their face told me you came in with a gun. I want to see what you pack.”
Teddy looked at Lou Tessa, and Carl was aware of the guy moving up on his right with the bat cocked, Carl thinking to use it as a threat—pull your gun or get your head knocked off—but he was swinging through with it, slamming the Louisville Slugger across Carl’s midsection hard enough to pound the air out of him and double him over gasping, stumbling into Johnny who caught him, reached into his coat and pulled his gun from its holster and handed it across the desk to Teddy. Carl went to his knees and Johnny’s hand slipped into his suit again to come out with the I.D. wallet and slide it across the desk to Teddy, Carl hanging on to the desk with his elbows, Louly trying to get to him but Johnny holding her away from him.
Teddy said, “Deputy United States marshal,” and raised his eyes from the I.D., Carl almost close enough to touch. He said, “Boy, you don’t have to get on your knees to me. I have a number of friends are marshals, good boys, too.” He released the Colt’s cylinder and dumped out the bullets, saying, “Tell me what you’re doing here. Come all the way from Tulsa to help out your sweetheart?” He shoved the wallet and empty revolver across the desk at Carl, who opened his hands to catch them. Teddy said, “Lou, help the marshal up. He’s got a tummyache.”
Carl felt Tessa’s hands under his arms lifting him. He pushed his thighs against the desk while he picked up his gun and wallet. He said to Tessa, “I bet you learned to hit like that on a prison farm.”
“Hurts, don’t it?”
“Hurts like hell. Can I see the bat?”
Tessa cocked it. “Where you want it? Is a Pepper Martin thirty-four inch.”
“I played high school ball,” Carl said. “I liked a thirty-five-inch brown bat with white tape on it. I’d choke up a couple of inches.”
Teddy said, “Hey,” to get Carl’s attention. “You believe Kitty Cat shot a bank robber and this association gave her a check for five hundred dollars?”
“I was there,” Carl said, “when she shot him, a fugitive felon. I don’t think h
e was worth five hundred, but that’s what they gave her. Do I believe you took the check from her? Yes I do, ’cause she told me you did and I wouldn’t put it past you.”
Teddy said, “Can you walk okay?”
“I’m pretty sure.”
“Then you better walk out,” Teddy said. “I see you here again, Lou’ll fix it you ride in a wheelchair the rest of your life.”
Louly held him by the arm. She asked a few times if he was all right, if he wanted to go to the hospital. There was one close to where she lived. Carl said no, he’d make it. He said it was like getting thrown off a bull and landing on your stomach. Other than that they didn’t speak until they came to Louly’s Ford, the one she stole from Mr. Hagenlocker, parked on Twelfth Street.
Getting him in the car she said, “I don’t suppose you want to go dancing.”
“When we get home,” Carl said. “I mean Tulsa.”
She turned on to Central heading south, Carl’s hands flat on the seat on both sides of him, trying to hold himself off the bumps in the road.
“I had something I wanted to say to Teddy, but Lou Tessa was dying to swing at me again, go for the fence this time.”
“What did you want to tell him?”
“To keep five hundred bucks on him, so the next time we saw him he could give it to you.”
Louly turned from headlights and what traffic there was to look at Carl. “I’m there with you?”
“The way I see it, yeah. Tomorrow at Heidi and Jack’s. Why I got their address.”
15
Jack Belmont was the only man Heidi had ever known who put on a bathrobe when he got up in the morning. She thought he might’ve picked it up from the movies; guys who were well-off put on bathrobes over their pajamas even if they got up to answer the phone. Jack was still sleeping when she came home at half past seven and had to keep shaking him before he opened his eyes, cranky as hell.
She said, “Jack, you want to get shot lying down or standing up? Teddy’s coming for his check today. But guess what. Help is on the way.”
He sat in the kitchen now in his robe drinking French-drip coffee she’d had to learn patience to make, adding just a speck of water at a time and heating the milk without letting it boil over. When Heidi sat down with him and first mentioned Carl Webster coming, Jack wanted to know how Carl found out he was here.