Louis Seigel, Maurer’s personal bodyguard and manager of the Paradise Club, opened the door.
Seigel was tall and’ dark, and notorious for his good looks. Ten years ago he had been known to the police and to his fellow mobster as ‘Louis the Looker’, but since hooking up with Maurer he had acquired more dignity, and the tag had been dropped. He was around twenty-nine to thirty years of age, squarejawed, blue-eyed and sun-tanned. An old razor scar that ran from his left eye to his nose gave him a swashbuckling appearance, and his carefully cultivated smile that showed big, gleaming teeth, was a devastating weapon against women, and women were Seigel’s principal interest in life.
“Come in, Captain,” he said, showing McCann his teeth. “The boss will be out in a minute. What’ll you drink?”
McCann looked at Seigel out of the corners of his hard little eyes.
“A Scotch, I guess.” He found it difficult to be civil to this smooth, goodlooking hood. He glanced around the luxurious room, lavishly furnished in excellent taste, and moved ponderously over to the mantelpiece and set his great shoulders against it.
Seigel walked to the bar, fixed a Scotch and soda and brought it over.
“The boss was a little surprised at your message. He had to cancel a theatre date. No trouble, I hope, Captain?” he said, handing the glass to McCann.
McCann gave a short barking laugh.
“Trouble? That’s not the half of it! If you guys don’t handle this right, the whole goddamn lid’s coming off — that’s how bad it is!”
Seigel raised his eyebrows. He disliked McCann as much as McCann disliked him.