Tony Rome Page #7

I asked to see

Mr. Rome alone.

- I'm Lieutenant Santini.

- I said alone.

When you're finished, do you mind coming

down and take a look at some mug shots?

- Catleg may turn up.

- Oh, I'd be thrilled.

Thanks.

Contract? What contract?

What's he talking about?

Farmed-out gun,

Mr. Kosterman.

Tell me something. You got a will, right?

How does it read?

Well, now look...

Look, Rome. I don't want any people

digging into my personal...

Why don't you wise up?

Losing a little jewelry is one thing...

but being dead's

another one.

I know what you're thinking, but...

No, it must be some kind of mix-up.

- They mistake me for somebody...

- Will you please cut it out?

People don't shoot at other people

just for the hell of it, you know.

You've been signed for.

Now how does

the will read?

Well, my wife...

my wife, she gets almost everything.

What do you call

"almost"?

Oh, boy, you're

a nosy bastard.

She gets the corporation...

stocks, the bonds, the cash.

And Diana, she gets...

What the hell does Diana get?

Oh, yeah.

She gets the boat and the kennels.

And the summer place on Sea Island

and a trust fund.

I'd like to wind up

with the leftovers.

But I'd rather

have your wife's end.

Rome, you don't really think

she would do a thing like this.

I don't know.

I don't know.

All I know

is that she's a liar.

That's all I know so far.

No luck on Catleg.

I'm down to out-of-state felons.

I got a rundown on that car.

It was reported stolen Tuesday night.

That's four days ago. He certainly wouldn't

be driving around Miami all this time.

Probably stashed somewhere.

Hello?

Yes, who's calling?

What?

No, he's not.

Honest to God, you're hopeless.

Do you know who that was on the phone?

Mm-hmm. My bookmaker.

This is supposed to

be a police station.

How do you think it looks...

a bookie using our main switchboard?

Not very nice.

Not very nice.

Huh-huh-huh-huh.

Mr. Catleg.

Alias, alias, alias.

He's got enough names

to start his own phone book.

Arson, armed robbery, assault with

a deadly weapon, but no murder charge.

That only means

he's a lousy shot.

I'll get copies made, and we'll canvass

all the downtown hotels and motels.

I don't know, Dave. If I were an imported gun,

I wouldn't hang around Miami.

I'd jump down

to maybe the Keys.

That's out of

our jurisdiction.

But since you seem

to be running this case...

I'll grab a sandwich. Be back in a few

minutes and get a copy of that picture.

Oh, by the way, Dave.

If that guy calls back, bet me $50

to win... Firefly in the fifth race.

Fifty.

You're in luck.

We got a vacancy.

How nice.

Do you know him?

- Why?

- Five.

Not till

you make me happy.

- Can you make it 10?

- I'm thinking to make it two-fifty.

Well, he, uh,

he was staying here...

but he checked out

early this morning.

- To where?

- How would I know?

You got 50 cents.

You wanna try for a buck?

Well, he registered as, uh, Fields.

John Fields.

- Drove a Pontiac sedan. That's all I can think of.

- Mm-hmm.

Did he ever make any calls

through that switchboard?

- Yeah, yeah, he made one.

- To whom?

That oughta

cost you more.

You haven't

earned this yet.

Here it is.

Uh, Wednesday night.

To a Sally Bullock

in, uh, Miami.

634-424...

I got it. I got it.

Get the number.

You won't get anybody there now.

It's a joint.

It's called the Paradise Cove.

It ain't open till night.

What did he say

to this here Sally Bullock?

I don't listen in.

You should have.

You just blew yourself an extra fin.

Hi. I was beginning to think

you were still hung up on that stripper.

No, she's outta

my league.

- Can I use your phone?

- Sure. Go ahead.

Listen. You told me that, uh, Rita

chilled Nimmo at Kosterman's one night.

How big a chill?

A gale or a breeze or what?

She chilled him.

No more, no less.

He must have done something. Did he

insult her, throw her on the rug or what?

He said hello and struck out.

That's all I know.

Why all this harping

on Nimmo?

'Cause I think he keyed

this whole affair.

I don't know why,

but I think he did.

Homicide.

What's the matter?

Couldn't you afford a whole dress?

Santini, please.

Where?

Oh. Thanks.

- Get ready, baby. We're eating.

- I'm ready.

Are you sure you told me

everything you know about Nimmo?

- You were pretty close to him, weren't you?

- Not close close.

I'm not as wicked as you think.

I've only had one affair since I've been here.

It's off-season.

Well, he was

a nice young guy.

He wanted to get the hang of it

before he got married.

Oh, come on.

- What do ya say, Packy?

- Hiya, Tony.

- Say hello to Miss Archer.

- How do you do?

- My pleasure.

- In shape?

Great.

Looking to make a comeback.

Let me see

that right hand.

- Not bad. Not bad.

- How about a tie?

- Pretty, ain't it?

- Oh, it's beautiful.

I'm a little light.

Can you handle it?

It usually costs a fin,

but give him 10, huh?

- Pretty tie.

- Thanks, lady.

I wish I could afford you.

Maybe if I started a syndicate.

He was pretty good in his day. He went

the whole route with LaMotta twice.

Hello, Sal.

How are ya?

Manny left this for you.

- Firefly had legs today.

- And you've been peeking.

I already took out

what you owed the joint.

Thanks a lot. Will you show Miss Archer

to a table? I'll be right there.

Miss Archer,

this way, please.

- Hey, Packy.

- Yeah, Tony.

You remember

my ex-partner Turpin?

Sure.

A real crumb.

He's down at the morgue.

Bury him.

Oh, uh, see he gets a nice tie.

Something with stripes.

With purple.

Hello, Lieutenant.

Why don't you come over and join us.

- Do you mind if I finish my meal?

- Not at all. Not at all.

Thank you.

Two martinis...

one gin, one vodka.

Yes, sir.

Doubles.

Your 10.

- Tony.

- Yeah.

Why don't we go away on that boat

of yours for a few days.

You know I can't do that.

I'm too busy.

- I wish I could get busy.

- Get a job.

That's too busy.

Dave, this is Ann Archer. This is Lieutenant

Dave Santini of the police department.

- How do you do?

- Please join us.

I regret to say you're

not interrupting anything.

- What do you hear?

- Nothing on Catleg.

But on Joe Furman, alias Nimmo,

we heard from New York P.D.

They think they'll turn up

a Miami address for him soon.

- That's it? That's all?

- That's all.

Except that your friend, Mrs. Kosterman,

was once married to him.

To him?

To who him?

Furman. Nimmo, the guy

we're talking about.

I didn't know anything about it

if that's what you're thinking.

It never dawned on me.

So, she's been married twice.

There's no rule against it.

If there were, I would have been

stopped cold years ago.

There's nothing wrong with it.

She's young, and I imagine she's attractive.

Oh, she's attractive.

She's got all the goodies, all right.

Make no mistake about it.

Vodka over here.

I'll get it.

You know anything about a joint

called the Paradise Cove?

Yeah. Junkie hangout.

We made a few arrests.

Or if you're looking for some action,

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