The Burning Day by Timothy C. Phillips Read Free Book Online

information. Lonnie is planning to move against Don Ganato soon, and I need to know how, where and when. Most of all, I need to know what that move’s going to be.”
    “So what am I supposed to do?” Johnny asked, a whine in his voice.
    “You haven’t attended one of Lonnie’s poker games lately.”
    “I been in Dutch with him.”
    “For how much?” Broom asked, with a note of what seemed genuine concern.
    “I’m down two large.”
    “You don’t say.” Broom smiled and reached in his pocket, and pulled out an envelope.  
    Johnny immediately wished he’d quoted a larger figure than the two grand he actually owed Lonnie.
    “Here.” Broom thrust the envelope towards Johnny. “Approved operating funds. Take this to Lonnie and tell him that you’ve come to settle up, and you want in on the next game.”
    “Okay.” Johnny took the envelope and resisted the urge to tear it open immediately. “When you’re in the game, I want you to keep your ears open for anything that he and the others say about their plot against the Ganato crew. Anything you hear, and I mean anything, you beat a path to a phone and pass it on to me. And no fairy tales. You play games with me, and I’ll give you a cold, hard dose of reality. Got that?”
    “Got it,” was all that Johnny Shakes said. Broom walked away without another word.
    Johnny opened the envelope, and counted the hundreds inside. Two thousand dollars, and not a penny more. Johnny frowned sourly as he folded the money and put it into his pocket. Broom, he thought with a bitter smile. That son of a bitch knew all along that I owed Longshot two grand. He’d already had the money counted out and in his pocket, which meant Johnny would have to stake himself in the game with Lonnie using his own money.  
    Suddenly Johnny Shakes smiled. “Oh, well,” he mused aloud. “Who knows? Maybe I’ll actually win something, this time.”

 
    Chapter 9
     
    I wondered what Mary Wiggins had been up to in that hotel room. I sat in my car and watched her walk down the stairs and get into her car and leave. I waited five minutes, just in case she forgot something and had to come back.
    A few minutes later I walked up the stairs and stopped in front of the door to her room. I keep some lock picks on my person, and I am rather skilled in their use. In no time at all I was inside Mary Wiggin’s room.
    I looked around. She was coming back, all right. An open suitcase full of clothes was on the bed, and I could see a makeup bag and other toilet articles in the bathroom, since the door had been left open and the light on. I went over to the table by the telephone. There, on the stationary pad, was written, “Bessemer Airport, 9:00 p.m.” Bessemer was a suburb that lay just to the southwest of Birmingham. If there was an airfield out there, I didn’t know where it was. Like everyone else, if I had occasion to fly, I used the Birmingham-Shuttlesworth International Airport.
    Whatever was going on, Mary Wiggins had plenty of time to keep her date at the airport. Assuming the note referred to nine that night, she had seven hours, since it was only a little after two as I sat perusing the contents of her room. There wasn’t a lot other than the clothes and the note. Mary either traveled light, or wasn’t planning on staying long. Either way, there was no indication of a male presence in the room. The bed hadn’t even been slept in. I let myself out, and went back down to my car.
    The entire affair seemed strange. Mary wasn’t acting like someone with something to hide, although I couldn’t for the life of me figure out just what it was that she was doing. An airport might be the meeting place for the other man, although I could think of more discreet locations. Maybe he was a pilot or an airplane mechanic, out there at this small airport—if he even existed. Maybe Mary wasn’t cheating on Henry, but she had piqued my interest. She certainly wasn’t acting like someone with a