The Hidden Hand of Death Read online

  “How did that work out?” I asked.

  One of the men stepped up and punched me in the jaw.

  I spat out some blood.

  “I’m reasonably sure that you’re not in the best position to be a wise guy, Ryder. Anyway, you know perfectly well how it worked out.

  “But Everett doesn’t know the story, Ryder. He doesn’t know that you tracked down my wife. You found her when no one else could. She was, as you’ll recall, living with a relative in a small town on the North Shore of Long Island. You knew the area very well.”

  Remington sighed. “And there’s where you went wrong, Ryder. You didn’t keep your word. We had reached a business agreement. You tell me where she is, and I’d pay you more money than you deserved. But you never told me that you found her, Ryder. You didn’t want to help me. You turned your back on me.”

  Remington switched back toward his brother. “What do you think so far, Everett?”

  “I think he’s a weasel. You don’t talk to weasels. You crush them.”

  “But listen to the rest, Everett. So there you are, Ryder. You promise to locate this deceptive and dangerous woman. And, as I say, you do. After all, Ryder does what my men can’t. He actually finds her. I told you he was good, Everett.”

  Remington turned his head back. “Let me repeat your mistake Ryder. I want it out in the open again. You find her, but do you tell me, Ryder? Do you say you know just where my wife is? Why, no you don’t. You talk to her. She tells you what no doubt were fantastic lies. Huge exaggerations about how cruel a man I was. How I punched her. How I enjoyed kicking her. She probably told you about the time I kept hitting her with a baseball bat. It wasn’t very heavy. It wasn’t a full-size bat. She told you all this. Am I right?”

  “She wanted to know where to find the form to nominate you for sainthood.”

  Remington nodded, and the hitter came back. These punches were harder but careful. If the hitter wanted to, he could have busted useful parts of my body.

  Remington said, “You’re stubborn, Ryder. You know I can’t kill you. In truth, by the nature of the punches already given you, I take it you’ve figured out I can’t even send you to the doctor. You’re too useful to too many important people I know.”

  “Then why am I here if we both know what happened?”

  Another smile. I wanted to give Remington’s dentist a lot of work.

  “Everett, what do you think we should do with him? We can’t kill him and we can’t let him go unpunished. It would send a bad message to other people.”

  “I’d say to kill him and make it look like an accident.”

  “That’s a very interesting idea, Everett. But, Ryder, you’ll be glad to learn that I had you brought here to give you some news and a chance to make up for your previous failure.”

  My eyes narrowed. I heard the snake inside Remington hissing.

  “Go ahead.”

  “First the news. I hired the best detective there is. He needed six associates, but he was the one who found and spoke to my wife.”

  “I hope he has a lot of life insurance.”

  “I hope so too. The poor man died in a terrible accident. He fell off a building under construction. No one even knows why he was there or how he got up so high.”

  “He no doubt had it easier than your wife.”

  “Oh his fate was like paradise compared to what my poor wife had to go through. I brought in an expert. I’m sure she experienced pain she didn’t believe was possible.”

  I moved in my seat.

  The men behind me thought I was trying to stand and so one of them put his hand on my shoulder.

  “Take it easy, Ryder. It’s too late to do anything for her. By the way, she’s buried under the construction of the very building the detective fell off. Isn’t that a neatly done job? It’s a bit of homicidal poetry. I thought as a professional killer yourself that you would admire the symmetry of it all.”

  “Okay, so you’ve told me what happened, Remington. You’ve given me your news. You said something about my making up for our unhappy past.”

  “So I did. Now listen to this Everett. I want you to take note of the directions I give Ryder.”

  Another sip of tea.

  “So, Ryder, my dearly departed wife had one relative to who she was very close. Very close. It was her sister named Amy. At one point anyway she was called Amy Pascal. I doubt she is any longer called that. I don’t know what name she is using.”

  Remington moved his face forward to stare at me more closely. “I admit I can’t figure it out. We found my wife but not the sister who wasn’t even in hiding. It’s a puzzle. You see the problem, don’t you Ryder? I don’t know what my wife told her. I don’t know if she gave her some letter about me. In brief, Ryder, I need to find the sister. I can’t afford to hire another disappearing detective. The police may decide to take too close a look at me.”

  “You want me to find her.”

  “I see your triple-digit I.Q. is working just fine.”

  “Tell your man to start slugging. I’m not going to do it.”

  “I thought you might refuse, what with your being so unprofessional and all.”

  “So you’ve given me the news. You’ve asked me to perform a task. I’ve said no. I think it’s time for me to go.”

  Remington shrugged. “What do you say, Everett? Should I inform Mr. Ryder of the consequences of his refusal?”

  “Carve it in blood on his forehead.”

  “Another interesting idea, Everett. But, for now, I think I’ll just tell him.”

  I stiffened up.

  “Okay, go ahead, Remington. Tell me exactly about those consequences.”

  “Ryder, I got very curious about you. I hired accountants to look at your money. I made an interesting discovery. Do you remember last year you killed a man named No Chin Monahan?”

  “I remember.”

  “A terrible man. He caused people at the top much trouble. He brought police to us. This is a capital crime among the leaders. I recall some of the top men were particularly disturbed. Luciano, from prison mind you, ordered that No Chin die. They picked you. They figured you were good with killing killers. And they were right. No Chin died, and no one was ever charged for his murder.”

  I said, “If Luciano wanted him dead, I’m guessing you’d have no problem with who killed him, whoever that might be.”

  “No problem at all. But you’ll recall I had my accountants at work. You were paid ten thousand dollars for killing No Chin. Not bad. You deduct the cost of a bullet, and you have a very high profit margin.”

  “I still don’t see how you’re having a problem.”

  “I’m just talking, Ryder. You donated that money. All ten thousand of it. To an orphanage on the Lower East Side. That was very generous of you. I bet at Christmas you dressed as Santa and went to visit the children. You care about people. That’s the essence of your weakness. You’re too sentimental. People are like ants, just crawling along. The strong kill the weak. And everyone has to search for food. We’re animals is all. That’s why I have no idea why, but you do seem to care about other people.”

  “That’s a terrible trait in a killer,” Everett said.

  “Indeed it is, Everett.”

  I tried to make sure my face had no expressions.

  “For instance, Ryder, you cared about your late wife Maggie.”

  “Don’t talk about her.”

  “Ah, but I have to. She’s dead. Forever. How sad. But her parents are alive. Her younger sister. Her two younger brothers. No children yet, but there is always the promise of the future. A nice little family. Unless I have them all killed.”

  I looked at Remington’s face. He was beaming, enjoying the idea of pain and death.

  “So here’s the deal, Ryder. You find my wife’s sister Amy or whatever name she’s using now. If you don’t, I will murder your dead wife’s family. They will join her in eternity.”

  I stared at him, hoping there was some hesi
tation in his eyes.

  There was none.

  I knew Remington would do it.

  “You have two months, Ryder. You better hope Amy is not dead. That won’t serve as an excuse. When you find her, you call me. I’ll have two of my men join you and all three of you will bring her to me. I don’t want any more escapes.”

  Remington leaned forward again.

  “Since we are both professionals, I take it we understand each other.”

  “You shouldn’t trust me. Let me hire a detective. It won’t come back to you.”

  “That’s not punishment enough for you, Ryder. You’ve got to be the one to turn her over. If you want, you can be present when I deal with her.”

  “She’s innocent, Remington.”

  “She’s a woman who may have secrets that can harm me. And before you say she may have the secrets but she also may not, I simply can’t take the chance. There’s no room for maybes in our business, Ryder. You seem to think there is such room. I don’t.”

  Remington turned to his brother.

  “What do you think, Everett?”

  “I’d like five minutes with him to convince him to do it your way all the way.”

  “Oh, Everett, if Mr. Ryder tries to cheat me in any way, you’ll have more than five minutes. And some amazing machinery to help you.”

  Remington pointed to the men behind me.

  “Gentlemen, you may now bring Mr. Ryder back to where you got him. The clock is ticking, and he’s got a job to do.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  The first problem I had was getting rid of the man following me. The guy wasn’t very good at tailing. He never went ahead of me and looked in store windows to make sure I was still walking. He never crossed the street. He didn’t even try to wear some elementary disguise. I wasn’t sure if it was incompetence or if Remington didn’t care if I knew I was being followed.

  I walked into an automat. My shadow followed. He looked as though he had decided in third grade that school was not his passion. His face looked as though it bore a shield against ideas. He didn’t look like a killer to me, which was in his favor. I thought he looked as though he was confused by life and liked to escape it by having a good time.

  I got a tray, went over to the window with some apple pie, put in the money, and took the pie out. Then I went over and drew myself a cup of coffee. I saw the shadow sitting down near the door.

  I walked over to him.

  “Your name is Joe Bendix, isn’t it?”

  The man looked up, embarrassed to be spotted.

  “Yeah.”

  I sat down. I’m not particularly good at looking friendly, but I did my best.

  “Look Joe, this is silly. If you keep following me, I’m not going to look for the woman I’m supposed to find. And then Remington will ask me why. I’ll have to tell him it was that I spotted you and I need to work in privacy. I might need to talk to people I don’t want Remington to know about. And I don’t want to tip off my methods. Maybe then he won’t need me and figure out he can do the job himself or get people like you to do it. Maybe if I can’t look because you’re tailing me he’ll blame me. Or maybe he’ll blame you.”

  “I’m supposed to stick with you.”

  “Sure. I get that. I really do. But if you look at it another way, you’re really supposed to make sure I do my job, right?”

  “I guess so.”

  I reached into my wallet and took out a twenty dollar bill and put it down on the table in front of Joe Bendix.

  I said, “Let’s keep this between us. You take some dame to Coney Island. Have yourself a good time. Tomorrow you take her somewhere else. Just stay away from me. When I find the woman, I’ll complain to Remington that you were always there. He’ll be happy with you. And I’ll be free to work the way I always do.”

  “I don’t know if I can trust you.”

  “You can’t. But Joe, let’s be honest. Do you seriously think I can’t lose you if I wanted? Or worse, Joe. Do you seriously doubt I could get a couple of my friends to make sure you don’t follow me anymore? You’re going to be much better off having fun at Coney Island. With a dame.”

  I stuck my hand out.

  “Do we have a deal?”

  “I guess so. Just don’t tell the boss.”

  “I promise you. I swear. I will not tell your boss about our agreement.”

  “Make it forty dollars. Dames got expensive tastes these days. They get scared by the war and want to have some fun to forget the world.”

  I nodded and handed Bendix two ten dollar bills to go along with the twenty.

  “Here are a couple of sawbucks.”

  “All right. Don’t mess me up, mister.”

  “You’re safe with me,” I said.

  Bendix folded the money and walked out of the automat.

  I ate my pie and sipped my coffee slowly. I went back for another cup. Coffee was my liquor and beer. I knew I drank too much of it, but I needed it. I thought, falsely, that it gave me resolve and strength.

  There was a rush of thoughts going through my head, like streams all headed to the same river.

  There really was no other answer. I wasn’t going to turn over Amy Pascal to a madman like Remington. And I wasn’t going to let my wife’s family die.

  I made my decision.

  Then I began to plan. I took a napkin and wrote on it, jotting ideas that would have no meaning for anyone who saw them.

  The problem, or the first problem, was that Remington seemed never to be alone. He had multiple bodyguards. I was fast, but it was just because I worked hard to be good that I knew my own limitations.

  I walked outside, went to a phone booth on the corner and made a call.

  “Vinny?”

  “Yeah.”

  “It’s Ryder.”

  “You call me, it means you got a problem. I got to find someone for you?”

  “No, Vinny. I need you to get a couple of guys. I got a tailing problem. I want to know all about where a guy goes.”

  “Regular rates.”

  “Double the regular rates.”

  “Now you got my attention, Ryder. Who am I tailing? Franklin Roosevelt?”

  “Remington.”

  “I’m pretty sure you meant to say triple rates, Ryder. This sounds like a suicide mission.”

  “You don’t have to touch him. Just follow him.”

  “I didn’t hear you answer about the triple rates.”

  “Yeah. Triple.”

  “Don’t tell my men.”

  “You’re a devious man, Vinny.”

  “I’m still here, ain’t I?”

  “That you are.”

  “So where are we looking for Remington to go?”

  “I have a problem I need solved. I want to know if there’s a moment when he’s alone.”

  “You’re talking Remington. He always has bodyguards.”

  “Which is why you’re going to tail him.”

  “I’m the best guy for tailing in the City.”

  “You won’t get an argument from me, Vinny.”

  “And I have no contact. None. Not a hello. No weapons are needed. Right?”

  “That’s right. You’ll have some nice walks.”

  “It’s still Remington.”

  “And you’re still Vinny. Yes or no?”

  “I come through I’m expecting a bonus.”

  “Now you’re getting greedy.”

  “Again, Ryder, you talk but you didn’t answer me about the bonus.”

  “I’ll decide. Yes, a bonus if you do a very good job and if none of your boys get caught. Don’t tell them who hired you. If Remington asks you, you say it came from Luciano.”

  “He’s not going to believe that.”

  “So let him check it out with Luciano.”

  “All right. It doesn’t matter. I’m not going to get caught.”

  I spent the next few days picking out the revolver I would use and the knife I would have in reserve. I paced a lot and was drink
ing too many cups of coffee. Then I remembered my promise to Maggie and stopped. I vowed to get in better shape.

  I walked the streets at night. Greenwich Village was a good place to walk in the darkness. I knew some writers and painters and stopped in to say hello to them.

  And then I thought I should eventually check in at my office.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  It was a few nights later. I prowled through the dark, but it wasn’t by choice. I would rather have been in bed resting, storing up energy, allowing thrilling dreams to gallop through my mind or to fend off nightmares.

  But I lost the battle with insomnia almost every night. That night, though, it was a matter of choice. I needed to unwind.

  The all-night diner where I had my office at a back booth was never crowded when I went there. I didn’t like crowds.

  It was ten minutes before three. There were a few people in the diner. The Greenwich Village street was as dark as Europe’s future I thought, but at least filled with imaginary monsters and terrors unlike the real ones in Europe.

  There were concrete steps on either side of the front door leading into the diner. I held onto the black railing and slowly walked up to a landing in front of two giant glass doors. I sighed and then went inside.

  I walked quickly to my booth in back. Then I removed the reserved sign and sat down. At the counter, a man wearing a fedora was sitting next to a woman, but they weren’t talking, and their hands weren’t touching. A married couple angry at their marriage and angry at themselves for staying married, I decided. My mind worked oddly. Maybe they were thieves, the Bonnie and Clyde of Greenwich Village. Or maybe they had suffered from insufferable tragedy and feared getting any closer to each other.