The Hot Kid Read online

  He crossed the street and walked to the Mayo Hotel on the near corner of Fifth and Cheyenne. The uniformed doorman gave him a salute, said, “How you doing, Mr. Webster?” and stepped over to pull open one of the doors. He let go as Carl walked into the opening and the glass in the twin door next to him shattered with the report of a pistol shot and another punched into the copper door frame and a third shattered the door swinging closed behind him, high-caliber sounds from the street, from the car he had seen double-parked across from the hotel, the shots rapid-fire, semiauto. Carl hit the marble floor inside, rolled and came up holding his Colt, pushed back through the shattered glass to see the double-parked car leaving the scene like it was stripping its gears, a black Ford Coupé, too quick for Carl to get the number, but a black Ford like half the people in Tulsa drove.

  Carl, sitting in the lobby with Tulsa detectives and reporters from the World, told them how Jack Belmont, seven months ago in Kansas City, swore he was going to shoot Carl on sight. Swore he would bust out of prison to do it. And wasn’t kidding, was he?

  No, he couldn’t tell it was Belmont in the car and wasn’t able to get the license number. The doorman didn’t get it either. And fortunately none of the stray shots hit anyone sitting in the lobby. The police had dug two bullets out of chairs and found the one in the dirt of a plant pot it had shattered.

  “I’m sure it’s Jack Belmont,” Carl told the reporters. “Only fired three times and lost his nerve. Couldn’t finish the job. How about if I give you my phone number? Put it in the write-up so Belmont can call me. I’ll tell him where to meet so he can try again.”

  The reporters loved it, the sheer bravado of this cocky young marshal, who had so far shot and killed eight offenders, daring a fugitive to meet him and shoot it out. Bob McMahon wouldn’t love it, but Carl believed he knew what he was doing. Beginning to work a scheme.

  Once the police and reporters left, Carl sat with Tony Antonelli, Carl’s back to one of the columns that rose past the second-floor balcony that rimmed the lobby full of red-patterned chairs and green ones and the red orientals that covered the marble floor.

  “Jack tells you he’s gonna shoot you,” Tony said, “he isn’t fooling. But isn’t every lawman in Oklahoma out looking for him? Why hasn’t he been picked up? I didn’t think he’d get too far out of Hartshorne. As soon as they found the deputy warden bludgeoned, they sent out an allpoints, didn’t they? Thank God the man’s gonna make it. They say Jack almost fractured his skull. A few minutes later we’re riding on a streetcar together. He said he was feeling ill. I imagine so.”

  Carl was patient, smoking a Lucky as he waited for Tony. Finally he said, “Your car was found in Vian.”

  “In better shape than the first time he stole it.”

  “Did he happen to mention Vian for any reason? Or when you were looking up his background, doing your story on him—”

  “I haven’t started writing it yet. That’s what he and I were gonna talk about, his early life.”

  “So Vian doesn’t mean anything to you.”

  “Some of those Cookson Hills bandits were from around there. When he was in McAlester he might’ve met one or two.”

  Carl nodded. “That’s something I could look up. Jack stole another car in Vian, one like yours—”

  “Same model,” Tony said, “and drove through to Stilwell. I wondered if he’d stopped off in the Hills, it was always a favorite place for fugitives to hide out, but they had that roundup a couple months ago, deputies and national guardsmen, hundreds of ’em driving through there like it was a tiger hunt. Let’s see, from Stilwell he went to Muskogee, stole a car—another Ford and a half-dozen license plates. Steal a Ford, all you have to do is stick a coin in the ignition. And after Muskogee it looked like he was coming here.”

  “But only got as far as Sapulpa,” Carl said, “and the trail ends. He ever mention Sapulpa?”

  “He talked about working on an oil patch, cleaning out storage tanks, what he was doing when he set one afire and his dad sent him to prison. But I’m sure he didn’t work there again. The next thing, he says he was digging coal out by Hartshorne, but I checked. For the past seven months he was at McAlester waiting for his appeal.”

  Carl said, “You ever been to Sapulpa?”

  “I’ve been through. They finally paved all the streets.”

  “You know who lives there? His daddy’s girlfriend, Nancy Polis.”

  “Well, she and Jack can’t be friends, can they? But his dad’s wells are around there—he could know some people he can get to hide him. It’s close to Tulsa, and we know he was right here not an hour ago.”

  “But he didn’t know I was coming to the hotel,” Carl said.

  “No, he couldn’t of known that.”

  “He must’ve followed me in the car across Cheyenne.”

  Tony, nodding, said, “Too many people on the street to get a clean shot at you. He believes you’re heading for the hotel and pulls up across the street.”

  “That’s how I see it,” Carl said. “Only it wasn’t Jack Belmont in the car.”

  It stopped Tony, got him frowning at Carl.

  “But he told you he was gonna shoot you.”

  “That’s the point,” Carl said. “He tells you that, you know he means it. I don’t see him firing three shots and running off. He’s got the drop on me, what’s he afraid of? I see him coming in to make sure. Jack Belmont wouldn’t of left with bullets in his gun.”

  “But you told the reporters you’re sure it was Jack.”

  “So the guy did the shooting’ll know I didn’t see him. And if Jack reads the paper he’ll know I insulted him—said he didn’t have the nerve to do it right—and he’s got competition. I’ll bet you a dollar he calls me.”

  “You know who it was shot at you?”

  “I’ll make a phone call and find out for sure, but I think it was a guy from Kansas City, Luigi Tessa.”

  Tony started to smile. “You mean Lou Tessa from Krebs?”

  “You know him?”

  “True Detective wants me to do a piece on him. ‘The Black Hand Rides Again’ spreading terror and death. They think Lou Tessa’s a natural to sell magazines. They’ve been wanting a Black Hand piece ever since I started with them.”

  “You want to meet him?” Carl said. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  Teddy Ritz said, “I couldn’t imagine why you’re calling.”

  “You sent Luigi to Tulsa?”

  “What happened to him?”

  “Did you send him?”

  “It was his idea. Does you, he gets his job back.”

  “You fired him?”

  “Of course I fired him. What happened?”

  “He took three shots at my back and left in a hurry.”

  “Lou wants so bad to be a torpedo.”

  “I told him before we left he’d never make it.”

  “I told him the same thing. What can you do?”

  “Call him and fire him again.”

  “Next time he might get lucky.”

  “Okay, give him my address, 706 South Cheyenne.”

  “You want him to come see you?”

  “I don’t want to keep looking behind me.”

  “You know he’s from Oklahoma?”

  “With two homicide detainers on him.”

  “So, he’s done it. Give him a chance.”

  “He laid for both. Neither one saw him.”

  “Once a punk, uh? What about Belmont?”

  “He’s around someplace.”

  “I read about his escape, on a streetcar.”

  “Why don’t you put Luigi on him?”

  “He’d fuck it up.”

  “You said he might get lucky.”

  “How’s he find him?”

  “Have you talked to Luigi?”

  “He called, said he almost got you.”

  “Yeah?”

  “He said it won’t be long.”

  “Where’s he staying?”

&nbs
p; “I tell you, I’m giving him up.”

  “What’s wrong with that?”

  “It wouldn’t be fair.”

  Carl said, “It wouldn’t be fair?”

  “It’d be the same as finking on him.”

  “Then give him my address.”

  “I don’t know—”

  “He could get it. What’s the difference?”

  “I didn’t write it down.”

  “It’s 706 South Cheyenne, second floor.”

  “You think he’ll knock on the door?”

  “I think he’d wait for me to come out.”

  “You gonna pop him?”

  “You mean is that what I want to do?”

  “What is it you say? ‘If I have to draw my gun—I will shoot to kill,’ uh? I like that,” Teddy said.

  Carl said, “Tell him where I live. And tell him there’s a magazine writer wants to talk to him.”

  Louly was in the kitchen making them each a Tom Collins, Carl’s without the cherry he always picked out and set in an ashtray, and she’d have to take it out before they were flicking ashes on it making a mess. Carl came in and she asked if he’d got through to Teddy.

  “Yeah, but he said Luig came on his own. He said he fired him, but if Luig was able to do me, Teddy would consider taking him back. I asked where he was staying. Teddy said it wouldn’t be fair to tell me. You imagine him saying that?”

  “It wouldn’t,” Louly said, with a cute foam mustache on her upper lip.

  “When’s Teddy ever fair? He walked off with your Bankers Association check.”

  “He can’t send the guy to shoot you and then tell you where he’s staying.”

  “He said he didn’t send the guy.”

  “Well, you know he did. Why would Lou come on his own?”

  “Make up for not pulling on me. So I said okay, give him my address and I gave it to Teddy.”

  “You’re telling the guy who wants to shoot you,” Louly said, “where you live?”

  “He won’t come to the door. He’ll wait outside for me to come out, in the morning. That’s how he should do it. If I wanted him, I’d go upstairs and take him out handcuffed.”

  “You come out in the morning,” Louly said, “and you know he’s waiting for you, what do you do?”

  “I’ll think of something. In the meantime, from now until this happens, you have to stay at the Mayo. I worked it with that assistant manager for events—”

  “Winona?”

  “Is that her name? I told her it’s Justice Department business and got a special rate. Housing a federal witness.”

  “I’m not going,” Louly said. She had her hands on her hips, to Carl, a bad sign. She said, “You’re not here half the time you’re supposed to be, and now you’re pulling this. You’re here and you make me leave.”

  “You liked it the last time, didn’t you?”

  “I had a suite.”

  “Is that what you want, a living room you won’t need?”

  “And a girl to do my hair.”

  “I’ll see what I can do.”

  “And I get to stay in the suite at night and not in some dinky room.”

  “You know who I saw in the lobby, I was talking to Antonelli? Amelia Earhart.”

  Louly had another Tom Collins, Carl switched to bourbon and they were on the sofa fooling around, not sure yet if they were going all the way and then they’d eat, or hold up and eat first, since Louly had a chicken in the oven. The phone rang. Louly said, “It looks like we eat and do it tonight at the regular time.”

  Carl went in the kitchen to get the phone.

  Jack Belmont said, “Hey, Carlos, this guy shoots at you going in the hotel and runs and you think it’s me? Tries to shoot you in the back? I told you, I’m bustin’ you on sight, but it won’t be from behind. I have to I’ll call your name. You know who this guy sounds like?”

  “It was.”

  “Lou Tessa?”

  “I called Teddy to check. He said Luigi came on his own.”

  “Yeah, after you showed him up. But he’s still a punk, huh? I’m not surprised he shot at you and ran.”

  “I said to Teddy, why don’t you put him on Belmont? He said he’d never find you.”

  “You won’t either,” Jack said. “You can’t even start to guess where I am.”

  Carl said, “Sapulpa?” and listened to a silence.

  “I stayed there at one time, when I was with Emmett Long? Stayed at the St. James Hotel, where Heidi was working at the time cleaning rooms. Me and Norm Dilworth. I’d hump her when Norm wasn’t looking. I don’t need her right now, but that girl’s still my favorite hump.”

  Carl said, “You still want to shoot me?”

  “Hell, yeah. I made a vow.”

  “You want my address?”

  “I know where you live, Carlos, over on Cheyenne. Anthony told me. He says he hasn’t been to your apartment, but visited your daddy’s place near Okmulgee, his nut farm. Tony says he likes your dad, he’s interesting to talk to. He says you start to tell him something and change the subject in the middle of it.”

  Carl said, “I do?”

  “Tony said you and Lou-Lou go down there to visit your old dad. I might look in on you there at the nut farm. Get ’er done like a couple of cowpokes. I been thinking, I want to be facing you from not too far.”

  “You want to meet somewhere?”

  “Has to be a surprise.”

  “I can come wherever you’re hiding,” Carl said.

  “Boy, if you knew. I’ve acquired more respect in the past few days…I’m gonna stop right there before I give it away. You gonna take care of Lou Tessa?”

  “I hope so.”

  “Well, you get me next. Be seeing you.”

  Jack hung up the phone.

  Carl turned to Louly looking at the chicken in the oven.

  “You know who that was?”

  “Your buddy Jack. I could tell.”

  “He’s dying to let me know where he’s hiding, ’cause I’d never believe him.”

  “He’s at home,” Louly said, “with mommy and daddy. Right here in Tulsa.”

  “I thought of that,” Carl said. “But his mom told me she’d shoot him if he ever showed up. And he might sense that she would.”

  “You believe it?”

  “She showed me her thirty-two. Then Jack started to say, ‘I’ve acquired more respect in the past few days…’ and stopped. He said, ‘Before I give it away.’”

  “More respect for what,” Louly said, “a person? A place? A way of living? A kind of work?”

  “I asked him was he in Sapulpa,” Carl said, “and it caught him by surprise. That’s where his dad’s girlfriend has her boardinghouse.”

  “Does Jack know her?”

  “I heard one time he tried to kidnap her.”

  20

  He was almost to her house and still hadn’t made up his mind how to play it.

  Not exactly beaten but hat in hand? “Miss Polis, you remember me? I’m Oris Belmont’s son, Jack.” And hope she sensed a change in him, his tone so different it touched her heart, gave her a tender feeling she couldn’t help.

  Except that time he had kidnapped her and realized she knew who he was, she was the one said, “You want to be a real crook, go rob a bank.”

  Remind her of it.

  “Nancy, remember what you told me in Norm Dilworth’s house that time? The one near Kiefer by the railroad tracks?” Then with kind of a grin, “Well, I took your advice.”

  Or tell her the truth.

  “Nancy, I’ve always thought of you as a woman dying to get in bed naked with a man just about anytime, and I’d try to imagine you with Oris if I wasn’t the one myself jumping on your bones, getting in there between your legs.” And then, “’Cause I have this passionate affection for you I’d hate to have to shoot you.”

  Something like that, but toned down.

  He had left the car parked behind the St. James Hotel and walked the three bl
ocks to the big, two-story frame house painted white, kept up, flower beds around it, young redbud trees along the street.

  Nancy Polis opened the door as he came up the walk, stood there in a cotton shift with thin straps, the skirt halfway to the anklets she wore and heels with bows that looked like tap shoes. But look at her—standing with her hip cocked, her hand high on the edge of the door.

  “You come to kidnap me again,” Nancy said, “you’re out of luck. I haven’t seen your daddy in close on a year.”

  But Oris had given her a farewell speech and enough money to live on for the rest of her life, a hundred thousand dollars. She told Jack not to get any ideas, the money was in the Exchange National Bank, which Oris swore would never close but might change its name. And if for any reason she ran out, Oris said to let him know.

  Jack hadn’t got around yet to thinking of robbing her. No, but it put him in mind of that Creek at McAlester, his cell mate, telling him about Virgil Webster putting away money to last so many years, a lot of money if he was to keep up running his nut farm, sounding like at least as much as Nancy had, a hundred thousand, Jesus Christ, but cash. Inside his house.

  That was one thing to think about. See how he could work out popping Carlos and picking up Virgil’s extra cash at the same time. A trip to Okmulgee for a twofer. The other more immediate thing was Miss Polis. She certainly had a nice plump figure. You’d never call her fat. The only word for her figure was plump. You wanted to dive on it.

  She was way more relaxed than when he first met her as a Harvey Girl in that uniform. He walked in the house, looked at her pumps with the bows and said, “What’re you fixing to do, some tap dancing?”

  She said, “If I feel like it,” looking him in the eye. It was the same as telling him they’d be in bed by the time the sun set.

  She had whiskey, Choc beer, and a sign she put on a tree out front that said no vacancy. Nancy had five rooms upstairs counting her own and eight beds for boarders, but no one staying here this week; so she put up the sign and told her colored girl, Geneva, who cleaned and did some of the cooking for ten bucks a week, she’d let her know when to come back to work. Got rid of her so they’d have the house to themselves.