Dark Maze

go before I sleep.
    Ho, ho, ain't that the truth?
    Miles to go!
    Meantime, wait’ll the little lady gets a load of what’s coming to her!

NINETEEN

    I made one last telephone call.
    Neglio did not seem pleased to hear from me so soon after our last conversation. He said, “Christ Almighty, Hock, what do you want out of me now?”
    “I need you to run a rapid warrant.”
    “Search?”
    “Yes. I’ll be on the F train out to Coney Island in about fifteen minutes, it’ll take me forty-five minutes to get to the Stillwell Avenue station and five minutes more to walk from the station to the Seashore Hotel on Surf Avenue. Which is already under police guard. I’d like the warrant to be in the hands of the cops at the hotel by the time I arrive.“
    “You’re taking the subway out to Coney Island?”
    “And I’ll be putting the out-of-pocket for tokens on my expense report.”
    “Hock, there are faster ways of getting around town, you know. Not to mention safer.”
    “You’re saying you want to loan me that armored black Chrysler of yours with Officer Flunky at the wheel?“
    “I don’t think...“
    “Neither do I.” I could hear steaming noises from Neglio’s end of the line.
    “Total time for me to get from my place out to the Seashore Hotel is one hour and five minutes, okay? I’m asking you to run a search warrant through the Brooklyn D.A.’s office during lunchtime, plus have a police courier deliver the paper for me all the way out to Coney inside of that time. Now that’s a very rapid warrant. Which is how come I need you. Or I could call up your pal the mayor if you don’t think you can handle it yourself.”
    Neglio made a few more steaming noises. “In case anybody should ask, Hock, what’s the purpose here?”
    “I want to search the business and residential premises of Johnny Halo. Make the warrant out for the Seashore and his bar, the Neptune. And make it for forty-eight hours in case I have to make two visits.”
    “Johnny Halo? This is the same guy you’ve already got me doing the nine yarder on? If you go turning over his place, Hock, you might wind up crumbing the play.”
    “Read the Post. Right there, black on white, it says I’ve got my own quirky ways of doing things, but that I always bring them in, boy.”
    “Cut it, Hock. That’s an order. And so’s this: spill.”
    “All right,” I said. “The thing is, Halo’s been missing since last night.”
    “Johnny Halo. He ties up to Charlie Furman, alias our man Picasso?”
    “Yes, he does. Only I don’t know exactly how. I can’t read between the lies yet.”
    “But what do you figure right now?”
    “Today, I figure there’s a percentage in taking Halo off the tilt. He’s an easier guy to find than Charlie Furman. And I figure if I find Halo, then I’m closing in on Picasso.” Neglio paused, thinking over the percentages. Then he said, “Okay, Hock. The warrant will be there. Go catch your cockamamie train.”

    True to his word, the warrant was waiting for me an hour and change later with a cop at the wheel of a squad car on surveillance duty outside the Seashore Hotel. The name tag on his blue twill shirt said he was Patrolman Harold Gotha. I showed him my gold shield.
    Gotha looked it over, then he flicked off a transistor tape player on the dashboard. I had recognized “Tangerine,” somewhere halfway through the piece and nearing the end of the lengthy middle-saxophone solo.
    He turned the warrant over to me. I slipped it into a pocket of my windbreaker and asked, “That’s Dexter Gordon you’re playing?”
    Gotha ’s voice was loose and smoky, like a jazz musician’s. “Long Tall, the one and only.”
    “From ‘Nights at the Keystone,’ right?”
    He gave me an approving lopsided smile and said, “You’re all right. I’ve been reading about you today, Superman. The story didn’t say anything about you knowing your bebop, though. By the way, you take a lousy picture.”
    “It only shows you how it wasn’t my idea to get in the newspaper.”
    “Yeah, I guess. You need any help up there in the hotel, detective?”
    “Not for what I’m after now, but maybe later. How long are you on this detail?”
    “I started at noon, I’ll be here awhile.”
    “Good. I’ll see you when I come down.”
    “I ain’t going anywhere.” Gotha flicked on the tape player and Long Tall played on, from beyond his grave.
    The lobby was almost the same as it had been the evening before: coldly lit,