Mickey Spillane - [Mike Hammer 02] Read Online Free PDF Page B

leather-covered chair and sank into it, looking around to see how society lived. It wasn’t bad. I picked up a cigar and bit the end off, then looked for a place to spit it. The only ash tray was a delicate bowl of rich Wedgewood pottery, and I’d be damned if I’d spoil it. Maybe society wasn’t so good after all. There were footsteps coming down the hall outside so I swallowed the damn thing to get rid of it.
    When Arthur Berin-Grotin came into the room I stood up. Whether I wanted to or not, there are some people to whom you cannot help but show respect. He was one of them. He was an old man, all right, but the years had treated him lightly. There was no stoop to his shoulders and his eyes were as bright as an urchin’s. I guessed his height to be about six feet, but he might have been shorter. The shock of white hair that crowned his head flowed up to add inches to his stature.
    “Mr. Berin-Grotin?” I asked.
    “Yes, good morning, sir.” He held out his hand and we clasped firmly. “I’d rather you only use the first half of my name,” he added. “Hyphenated family names have always annoyed me, and since I am burdened with one myself I find it expedient to shorten it. You are Mr. Hammer?”
    “That’s right.”
    “And from New York. It sounds as though one of you is important,” he laughed. Unlike his butler, his voice had a good solid ring. He pulled a chair up to mine and nodded for me to be seated.
    “Now,” he said, “what can I do for you?”
    I gave it to him straight. “I’m a detective, Mr. Berin. I’m not on a case exactly, but I’m looking for something. An identity. The other day a girl was killed in the city. She was a redheaded prostitute, and she doesn’t have a name.”
    “Ah, yes. I saw it in the papers. You have an interest in her?”
    “Slightly. I gave her a handout, and the next day she was killed. I’m trying to find out who she was. It’s kind of nasty to die and not have anyone know you’re dead.”
    The old man closed his eyes slightly and looked pained. “I understand completely, Mr. Hammer.” He folded his hands across his lap. “The same thought has occurred to me, and I dread it. I have outlived my wife and children and I am afraid that when I pass away the only tears to fall on my coffin will be those of strangers.”
    “I doubt that, sir.”
    He smiled. “Thank you. Nevertheless, in my vanity I am erecting a monument that will bring my name to the public eye on occasions.”
    “I saw the picture of the vault in the papers.”
    “Perhaps I seem morbid to you?”
    “Not at all.”
    “One prepares a house for every other phase of living... why not for death? My silly hyphenated name will go to the grave with me, but at least it will remain in sight for many generations to come. A bit of foolishness on my part, yes; I care to think of it as pride. Pride in a name that has led a brilliant existence for countless years. Pride of family. Pride of accomplishment. However, the preparations concerning my death weren’t the purpose of your visit. You were speaking of this... girl.”
    “The redhead. Nobody seems to know her. Just before she was killed your chauffeur tried to pick her up in a joint downtown.”
    “My chauffeur?” He seemed amazed.
    “That’s right. Feeney Last, his name is.”
    “And how did you know that?”
    “He was messing with the redhead and I called him on it. He tried to pull a rod on me and I flattened him. Later I turned him over to the cops in a squad car to haul him in on a Sullivan charge and they found out he had a license for the gun.”
    His bushy white eyebrows drew together in a puzzled frown. “He ... would have killed you, do you think?”
    “I don’t know. I wasn’t taking any chances.”
    “He was in town that night, I know. I never thought he’d act like that! Had he been drinking?”
    “Didn’t seem that way to me.”
    “At any rate, it’s inexcusable. I regret the incident extremely, Mr. Hammer. Perhaps it