Free The Long Wait by Mickey Spillane Page B

sipped his beer and made circles with the glass on the bar. “Servo has lots of women.”
    â€œThis one was a blonde, a real honey blonde.”
    â€œNice build?”
    I couldn’t say for sure, but women take care of those things if they haven’t already got them so I just nodded.
    â€œHe had one tomato a long time ago who was a knockout. She was a blonde.”
    â€œRemember her name?”
    He made more circles with the glass. “Mac, if I did know I don’t think I’d tell you. I’m a family man. I work here and let it go at that.”
    â€œServo’s trouble?” I tried to act surprised.
    â€œNot personally .. he’s too much of a big shot to do his own knuckle-work. Let’s quit asking questions.”
    â€œSure, sure,” I agreed “but you know how it is. I’d like to find her.”
    He spoke more to the open door than to me. “The babes Servo makes usually wind up in the cellar. Try the red light district once.”
    I tossed the beer down and pushed the change out to him. “I’ll do that Thanks.” He picked up the change with a nod and was feeding it in the slot when I went out the door.
    It was hot as hell again. The sky was a hazy gray and over in the east I could see the outlines of an early thunderstorm building up. It didn’t seem to bother any of the people on the street Not with all those nice air-conditioned places with the blue signs in the window to wait out the weather. That was another monopoly Servo seemed to have.
    I took it easy walking down the street, acting like I had all the time in the world on my hands. I spent an hour at it, getting an idea of what made the city tick. There were a lot of things that helped, like the cops who poured the coal on the residents for parking overtime while anybody with a tag from outside the city got away with murder. Practically.
    Like the candy store where I bought the paper and saw a guy in a flashy sports outfit stuff a roll of bills in a briefcase and hand it over to another guy who had a car waiting outside.
    Like the women who had everything but “for rent” signs hanging from their nipples cruising the streets for customers.
    Like the expensive-looking guy who had an early load on being helped into a police car very gently with orders from the bar owner to see that he got to the train station safely.
    Like the shoeshine boys who charged a half a buck for a polish and rub then griped when there wasn’t any tip besides.
    Oh, Lyncastle was a great town. Great.
    Then I saw Lindsey. He was having a coke at the counter of a modern version of an old general store. The sign over the front read “Philbert’s” in neon script and a directory listed what was to be found inside. Food and drugs on the left. Sodas on the right and beer further back. Hardware, paints and home supplies up the middle aisles. Printing, photostating and office supplies in the back.
    I walked in and sat down beside him. Like the spider and Miss Muffet. I said, “Howdy, pardner,” and he didn’t even look at me. His face seemed to puff up around his mouth and the straw flattened out from too much pressure at the top. I said, “Cat got your tongue?”
    He turned around slowly. “Johnny, you’re too goddamned wise for your own good.”
    â€œSo I’ve been told.”
    â€œI’m telling you again.”
    â€œThen get some smarter cops. That deal you pulled this morning stunk.”
    â€œYou seem to know a lot about cops.”
    I ordered a coke and a sandwich for myself. “I do ... about the kind you have in this burg. You know about them?”
    â€œI know about them.” His voice was a flat snarl.
    â€œThen keep them off my back, Lindsey. When you slap me with a murder charge you can do what you damn well please, but until then, lay off.”
    â€œYou bastard!” He almost whispered it.
    I took a bite of my sandwich and grinned