Myra took a sip from her glass. Her eyes were cloudy. “He looks big enough to take care of himself,” she said.
Roxy shook his head. “You wait an’ see. Little Ernie’s gunnin’ for him. An’ Little Ernie’ll get him all right.”
Myra moved restlessly. “Maybe he’ll get Little Ernie first,” she suggested.
“You ain’t got the lowdown to this burg.” Roxy spun his glass between his finger and thumb. “Hurst runs the Automatic racket. He’s been makin’ a pile of dough for some time. Little Ernie runs the Cat shops. He’s in a big way too. That’s the set-up. For years these guys ain’t overlapped. They’ve made their pile outta their rackets an’ kept to their side of the town. These guys are never contented, see? Maybe they pick up a couple of million bucks a year. Good money? Not to these guys. They want more. They’ve got big overheads. They’ve got a long list of retainers to pay off. So they always want more.”
Myra said softly, “A couple of million bucks?”
Roxy nodded. “Sure, that ain’t so much to guys like that,” he said. “Hurst is startin’ somethin’. He’s expandin’. He’s pushin’ into Little Ernie’s territory. That wop won’t stand for that. Hurst says it’s okay. Automatics can’t hurt Little Ernie’s Cat «hops. So he pushes ahead.” Roxy shrugged. “One day, mighty soon, Hurst’s goin’ to get a handful of slugs tossed into his guts. Then his million bucks ain’t goin’ to mean a thing.”
Myra lit a cigarette. “Maybe he’ll get the wop first,” she said.
“Yeah, maybe he will.”
Fanquist said, “So you ain’t taking Hurst after all?”
Myra shook her head. “I’ll take him a little later on,” she said.