Free Mickey Spillane - [Mike Hammer 13] by Black Alley

and I slid into the cushion next to her. I told her about Dooley’s tying in with Lorenzo and what he had said about the dons. In a general way I described the discord in the families and what they were going to do with their funds. Right then she turned quickly, her eyes narrowed, and said, “Did you notice that little fat guy as we went into Dooley’s area?”
    “Grey double-breasted suit, pink shirt?”
    “That’s the one.”
    “What about him?”
    “He was either a Treasury man or an IRS agent. Six months ago I covered a trial at the Kings County Courthouse in Brooklyn and he was a witness for the prosecution.”
    “What was he doing at the funeral home?”
    “He was watching, Mike.”
    A little hiss seeped through my lips.
    “What’s happening?” she asked me.
    “You sure about that guy? The fat guy?”
    “About ninety percent,” she stated. “Now tell me what’s going on.”
    “The leaks have started, kitten. One of them got picked up by Uncle Sam. The tax boys have a scent and they’ll follow it all the way through.”
    “To what?”
    “To where eighty-nine billion dollars are stashed.” It was the first time I had mentioned the numbers to her and she opened her mouth in an expression of utter disbelief.
    “Mike . . .”
    “Don’t play it down, kid. The annual take from California’s biggest cash crop would knock your socks off.”
    “What crop is that?”
    “Marijuana. Happy grass.”
    “Mike . . . you said billions. Each billion is a thousand million.”
    “Pat thought so too.”
    “Then you weren’t kidding . . . ?”
    “Not about something that big.” I gave her hand a gentle squeeze of reassurance. “Right now they’re looking for dinosaurs. There aren’t any. All they can find are fossils. Interesting to look at, but that’s all. The only one who could tell them about it is dead.”
    “You believed Dooley, didn’t you?”
    I agreed with her. I did believe Dooley, all right. He told me what he did with all that loot, but he didn’t tell me where. How he did it was another matter. How would you move eighty thousand cartons of pure, spendable cash and valuables in a way that was totally sight unseen? It was like watching Karloff in The Mummy when he was buried alive beside the lady who cheated on her husband. To keep the grave secret all the slaves were killed by the soldiers.
    I always wondered what happened to the soldiers. They had sworn loyalty to the pharaoh so they were considered beyond suspicion of acting traitorously. At least until a stronger pharaoh came on the scene.
    I shook the thought out of my head and stood up. “Tomorrow I want you to go down to the Veterans Administration and run down Dooley’s service record.” I scanned the serial numbers on the urn and wrote them down, handing the slip to Velda.
    “What am I looking for?”
    “His kid. He’s supposed to have a son. All that information would have been recorded when he signed up.”
    “Where do I look first?”
    “Try Washington, D.C. Use the phone. If they want any reason for the query, tell them we’re trying to find an inheritor.”
    “Fine, Mike . . . but why are we looking for him?”
    “Because fathers with sons are funny. They’ll entrust things to their kids they wouldn’t put in a safe deposit box. That kid, Marvin, may know something we need.” After a moment I added, “One more thing. Check your calendar and see when you went to the Kings County Courthouse. Find out who that government witness was. You have any friends over there?”
    “The best. The court stenographer. It’s all public information anyway, but she can expedite matters.”
    When I didn’t come up with something else, Velda folded the slip into her wallet then locked that in her purse. Her eyes came up to mine again, nice clear, deep brown, hungry eyes that didn’t push or play games. She said, “That’s for tomorrow. What’s for tonight?”
    “Kitten,” I said, “you really know how to twist my tail. Now