79 Park Avenue (31 page)

Slowly his hand came down. He looked at the billy in it as if surprised that it was there. Slowly he dropped it into his pocket. His eyes were clear, and his voice was as calm as if nothing had happened. "Get your things," he said softly.

She didn't move. She was looking down at Mike.

He followed her gaze to the floor. "Christ! He's a mess!" A note of wonder was in his voice. He bent over and slipped his arms under Mike's shoulders. "I'll get him into bed and clean him up a little while you're packing."

It was almost dark when Mike opened his eyes. There

was a dull, throbbing pain across the bridge of his nose. He stifled a groan. "Marja!" he called.

There was no answer.

Reluctantly, memory came to him. Stiffly he got out of the bed. A wave of dizziness rolled over him. He held on to a chair until he fought it off, then made his way to the bathroom. In the dark he turned on the cold water. He put his mouth to the faucet and drank thirstily. At last the dryness in his throat was gone.

He straightened up and turned on the light. A strange face stared at him from the mirror over the sink. The cheekbones were bruised and sore, the nose crushed and flattened, and the Ups cut and split. Most of all, the eyes had changed. They were hollow and deep with pain that was not a physical thing. He closed them slowly, then opened them quickly to see if the look would vanish. It didn't. It was still there.

It would always be there. Just as it was now. A look of pain that no amount of tears could ever wash away.

Chapter 8

THE BRIGHT California sunshine was beginning to slide behind the blue-black shadows of the hills as the tall gray-haired man walked up the steps of the house and pressed the doorbell. From deep within the house came the slight echo of chimes. He looked along the side of the house.

The shimmering aqua blue of the swimming-pool threw oflE sparkling diamonds of Ught as the spray reached up into the sun. He could hear the faint soimd of a child's laughter coming from the water and the gently admonishing tones of the colored nurse who was patrolling the walk aroimd the pool vigilantly. He was nodding with pleased satisfaction as the door opened.

An old colored man looked out at him. A polite smile of recognition appeared on his face. **Come in, Mr. Martin," he said in a deep, rich voice. "I'll tell Miz Drego you're here."

Joker followed the old man into the large living-room

and went over to the big picture window looking out on the pool. He watched the httle girl climb out of the water, her white-gold hair shining. Quickly the nurse threw a big Turkish towel around the child and began to dry her.

The child was just hke her mother, he thought. There was nothing of Ross in her. Strange that a man as strong as Ross could make no mark on his child. A faint smile came to his Ups. But was Michelle really Ross's child? Only Marja could answer that, and he knew better than to ask her. He thought that Ross did too. Joker was sure that if Ross ever asked, Marja would tell him the truth, even if the truth was not to his Uking.

The sound of footsteps behind him made Joker turn around. As always when he saw her, he could feel the faint stirrings inside him. Time had not taken anything from her; if anything it had added. There was something about her so rich and basic and vital that you could almost feel it reaching out and touching you. The smile disappeared from his Ups. He held out his hand. "Maryann," he said.

She took it. Her hand was warm and strong. Her even white teeth gleamed quickly. "Joker," she said. "It's been a long time."

He nodded. "Four years." He gestured toward the window. "Michelle was only two years old then. She's a big girl now."

Maryann smiled. "Six."

"She's just like her mother. She's going to be a heart-breaker," Joker laughed.

A strange expression flitted across Maryarm's face. "Oh, God, I hope not!" she said fervently.

Joker reached for his cigarettes. "You haven't done so bad."

A shadow came into her eyes. "Depends on what you look for, Joker. We all look for different things."

"True," he said.

She pulled the bell cord next to the window. "Can I get you a drink while you're waiting, Joker? Ross won't be home for another hour yet."

"Thanks," he said. "I can use one."

She glanced M him sharply. "Anything wrong?"

His eyes were shrewd. "Depends on what you look for, Maryann." He held a match to his cigarette. "I didn't come to see Ross this time. I came to see you."

Her face was inscrutable. "Yes?" Her voice had just the right amount of poUte curiosity.

The old servant came into the room. "Yes, Miz Drego?"

Maryann turned to him. "Bring Mr. Martin some Scotch."

The old man turned and disappeared. Joker looked after him. "Still have the same man, I see."

She nodded. "I don't know how I'd get along without Tom. He's a real friend."

"He worked for that millionaire that got killed in the plane crash, didn't he? What was his name?"

"Gordon Paynter," she answered. "When I read about it, I went and looked Tom up. I was very lucky that he was willing to come to me. Gordon had left him well taken care of."

"You knew Paynter, then?" His voice was polite.

"I knew him," she answered in a flat voice. "We were almost married."

Tom came into the room bringing Scotch, glasses, and ice. "Shall I fix the drinks, ma'am?" he asked.

Maryann nodded. They were silent imtil Tom had given

Joker his drink and left the room. Then Joker held up his glass. "Your good health."

*Thank you," she said pohtely. She sat down in a chair opposite the fireplace and looked at him expectantly. There was that about her which reminded him of a cat. Maybe it was the tawny color of her eyes, or the way she sat there, sensitive and alert.

*'Have you noticed any changes in Ross lately?" he asked suddenly.

The expression in her eyes changed only slightly. There was a wariness in them that had not been there a moment before. "What do you mean?" she parried.

His voice was harsh. "You know what I mean.'*

She didn't answer.

"Ross is getting to be a big man," he said. "Some people can't take it"

"He's very nervous," she said. "He works hard."

"So do I," Joker said flatly. "So do a lot of people, but they don't act Uke Ross."

"You know Ross," she said. "He's a kid in some ways.**

"I know Ross," he said. "That's why I'm out here."

Her eyes looked at him levelly. "What do you expect me to do?" she asked.

He turned to the sideboard and made himself another drink before he spoke. He looked out the window. The child and the nurse were coming toward the house. They disappeared around the comer. "Do you love Ross?" he asked.

There was a faintly admonishing tone in her voice. **Joker, isn't that a silly question?"

He turned from the window and looked at her. "I don't know. You tell me. Is it silly?"

She didn't answer.

"You've been livin' with him for seven years now. You must feel somethin' for him or you wouldn't still be here.'* He sipped his drink. "All I want to know is whether it is love or not''

Her eyes gazed directly into his. "I like Ross, if that's what you want to know."

He shook his head. "That's not what I want to know. I want to know if you love him."

A shadow came into her eyes. "No, I don't love him."

He let a deep breath escape his lips. He had been counting on just this answer. It would make things easier. He sat down in the chair opposite her. "Ross has an incurable disease," he said slowly. "Ambition. It's going to kill him."

He could see her face whiten under the tan. "It is really incurable or do some people just think it is?"

He shook his head. "It's too far gone, there's no way to cure it now. Nobody has faith in the patient."

"Is it that last hotel? The Shan Du?" she asked.

"That and other things. That was the last straw. He should have known better than to use our money for him-self."

"But he paid it all back," she said. —

"The money, yes," he said. "But he ^ shared nothing else. We didn't put him out here to be an independent operator. We took too many chances."

"If I spoke to him?" she asked.

"It wouldn't help now," he said. "They've already made up their minds."

"You mean you've made up your mind," she snapped.

He shook his head slowly. "No. The only reason I came out was to see that you're all right."

Chapter 9

'"you're getting too well known, Ross,'* Joker said as he reached for another roll. "You're goin' to have to cut back a Uttle bit. Too many eyes are on you. The columns report every move you make."

Ross shoved another slice of steak into his mouth. "What difference does it make?" he asked surlily. "I'm gettin' things done."

"We can't afford the publicity," Joker repeated.

Ross threw his fork down angrily. "What's eatin' you guys back east anyway? The only way to get things done out here is to make a big noise. Then everybody knows you an' runs to help."

"Along with the cops and Internal Revenue and the F.B.I.," Joker added, smiling.

''Nobody's been able to tie anything on me yet, have they?" Ross asked.

"Depends on who you're talkin' about," Joker answered. "And what."

Ross looked at him quickly. He pushed his plate away

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with a decisive gesture. "You didn't fly out here to give me a lecture on behavior," he snapped. "What's eatin' you?"

Maryann chose that moment to get up. 'I'm going up to see that the baby's in bed," she said.

Ross didn't look up. He was staring at Joker as she left the room. ''WeU?" he asked.

"The Shan Du, for one thing," Joker said softly.

"What about it?" Ross demanded. "It's mine."

Joker shook his head. "You don't understand, kid. That's what's wrong. We got enough opposition without it being from inside."

"There's room in Vegas for twenty more hotels," Ross said.

"Right," Joker answered. "That's why we went into this so long ago. We want as many^of them as possible to be ours."

Ross got to his feet. "You mean I can't have anything for myself?"

Joker held up his hands. "Don't get me wrong, Ross. You can have anything you want. I just don't think it's wise."

"I made a lot of dough for you guys," Ross said.

Joker got to his feet and stared at him. "You got your share out of it," he said harshly. "More than just a percentage. Your trouble is that you grab too much. You been like that ever since you were a kid. Always tryin' to grab more than you should. This time you tried too hard." He turned to leave the room.

Ross grabbed at his arm. "WTiat do you mean?"

Joker's eyes were cold and gray. "Remember that time you came to the crap game in the back room of the dance hall? The first time you brought Marja?"

Ross nodded. "*What's that got to do with it?'*

"You thought you were smart, switchin' dice on us. You weren't so smart. I covered for you then because I thought you'd learn. 1 can't cover any more." He pulled his arm from Ross's grip and walked out of the room.

Maryann was just coming down the stairs. "Going so soon?" she asked.

He looked at her. "Yeah," he said, "I can't wait. I got some people to see."

"There's no other way?" she asked.

He shook his head almost imperceptibly. He hesitated a moment, then spoke in a very low voice. "I'd take the kid and go for a little trip if I were you."

She stood very still. "It's that bad?"

"It's that bad," he said. "You'll go away?"

She shook her head. "No. I can't leave him now. I'll send the baby away in the morning, though."

A look of admiration crossed his face. "Okay, but be. careful. Stay away from the open windows." He walked to the door and opened it. He looked back at her. "I'll call yuh some tirhe."

She watched the door close behind him, then walked into the living-room. Ross was pouring himself a drink. "What did Joker want?" she asked.

"Nothing," he answered.

"Nothing?" she asked. "That's not like him. He didn't come all the way out here for nothing."

He drained the glass quickly. "I said nothing, and that's what I mean." He slammed the glass down on the sideboard. "Leave me alone," he said angrily. "I gotta think."

She stared at him for a moment, then turned and left the room.

When she had gone, he went to the telephone and dialed quickly. A voice answered. "Pete," he said, "I want you to get two boys out here right away. Joker just left."

The receiver crackled. Ross laughed tensely. "It had to come some time," he said. "We couldn't pay off to them forever. . . . No—I'm not worried. They won't dare try anything. They know everybody's watchin' me. I'm just being careful."

He put down the telephone and mixed another drink. He sank into a chair and sipped it. How much did Marja know? he wondered. He could never figure her out. You could only get so far with her and then you ran into a stone wall. He remembered the time she had told him she was pregnant. It had been a long time ago. They had been out here only two months.

He had come into the apartment they had rented temporarily while he was looking for a house. It was a lavish apartment in one of the big hotels. He walked into the bedroom, looking for her.

A valise was on the bed and she was folding her clothing into it. He crossed the room quickly. "Where do you think you're goin'?" he asked.

Her eyes met his gaze cahnly. "Away." Her voice was flat and emotionless.

"What for?" he asked. "I'm treatin' you good."

She nodded. "I'm not complaining.'*

"Then why are you goin'?"

Her eyes looked right into him. "I'm goin' to have a baby," she said.

"Oh, that," he said, a curious relief running through him. "We can get it fixed. I know a doc that'U—"

She shook her head. "Uh-uh. I want this baby."

A proud smile came over his face. "Then have it. We'll get married and—"

"I don't want to marry you," she said.

He was puzzled. "But you said you wanted the baby.'*

She nodded. "I do.'* She snapped the vaUse shut, brought another vaUse from the closet, and put it on the bed.

He watched her begin to pack the second valise. "Then, why not get married?" he asked. "After all, if I'm going to be a father, everything might as well be right."

Again her eyes met his across the bed. "That's just it. It's not your child."

He stood very still. He could feel the blood running from his face, leaving it white and paUid. "Whose is it?" he asked, his throat suddenly harsh and hurting.

She shrugged her shoulders casually. "What difference does it make, as long as it isn't yours?"

His hand grabbed her arm across the bed and pulled her toward him roughly. She fell across the bed and looked up at him. There was pain in her eyes, but no fear. He spat the word out: "Mike's?"

She didn't answer.

His free hand flew up and slashed viciously across her face. He could see the white marks of his fingers, then the sudden rush of blood to fill the marks. There was a poimding in his temple. "It was Mike, wasn't it?" he snarled.