Free Parker 01 - The Hunter by Richard Stark Page A

therefore," he said, "is perfectly understandable."
    "It was him or me, Mr. Carter."
    "Of course. Is Mrs. Parker still with you?"
    "No, sir. We broke up about three months ago. I heard he killed her yesterday."
    "Killed her? Do you suppose he found out first where to find you?"
    "She didn't know, Mr. Carter."
    "You're sure of that?"
    "Yes, sir."
    "All right." Mr. Carter made a tent of his fingers again, and studied the fingertips. His lips pursed and relaxed, fishlike, and the silence in the room lengthened. The silent man in the corner shifted position, causing a slight rustle, and Mal jumped, his head snapping around, his eyes staring. He breathed again when he saw that the man was still just sitting there, impassive, smoking a cigarette.
    Mal wanted a cigarette. He wanted one badly. But he didn't think it would be right to light one. He licked his lips and waited.
    Finally, Mr. Carter looked up. "If you remember," he said, "we have three possible choices." He ticked them off on his fingers. "Assist you, leave you to your own devices, or eliminate you from the organization. For the moment, I think we will pursue number two. If you manage to handle this problem yourself, so much the better. If you find you're having too much difficulty, come back and we'll talk it over, and decide whether we should shift to choice one or choice three." His wintry smile came out again, "I think that's our best decision for now."
    Mal got unsteadily to his feet, a growing chill in the pit of his stomach. "Thank you, Mr. Carter."
    "That's perfectly all right. Any time. Oh, and Resnick. You are responsible for the work of a group within the organization. That group has a sufficient workload. They won't be available to help you in this personal matter."
    "No, sir," said Mal.
    "One other thing. Perhaps it would be best, until this matter is settled one way or the other, if you were to move out of the Oakwood Arms. Your suite will be saved for you, of course. We wouldn't want any unpleasantness at the hotel. You understand?"
    "Yes, sir," said Mal.
    The silent man accompanied him to the outer door.

Chapter 5
    Mal stood at the phone, counting the rings. On the tenth, he jammed his thumb on the cradle button, breaking the connection, and dialed another number. Pearl wasn't at home. Maybe she was at that crummy bar again.
    She wasn't. The bartender recognized his voice and told him no, Pearl wasn't there. It irritated him that the bartender recognized his voice. He'd been relying on Pearl too much, he should get hold of something else.
    It occurred to him that she might be at the hotel, waiting for him, not knowing that he'd moved, or that at least he could leave a message for her there at the desk. But the hell with it. He wanted something else, something good. Like that blonde of Phil's.
    He hesitated, almost calling the Oakwood Arms anyway, but finally dialing a different number. A woman answered, a woman with a husky cigarette-raw voice, and he said, "Mal Resnick, Irma. I could use a girl."
    "Couldn't we all, honey? What's your price range?"
    "I want something good, Irma," he said, visualizing what he wanted. "A blonde, something really good. For all night."
    "Mal, honey," she said, "it's been a while since you called. There's been something I've wanted to say to you."
    "What?"
    "The envelope, honey. The last two girls complained to me. There wasn't enough in the envelope."
    He laughed, feeling not at all like laughing. "What the hell, Irma, discount to a fellow worker in the Outfit, right?"
    "Wrong, honey. The girls got to make a living too. They got their price, they want to stick with customers who pay the price, you see what I mean?"
    Mal was in no mood to argue. "All right," he said abruptly. "All right, all right. I'll pay a hundred cents on the dollar. Satisfied?"
    "Rarely, honey. Now I asked you, what price range?"
    "I told you what I wanted. A blonde, something really good. Young, Irma, young and stacked."
    "You are talking about a hundred