Sleep Tight by Jeffrey Jacobson Page B

not get any more simple than that.” This was Lee’s uncle Phil. He was an alderman, and although Lee was the star, nobody was kidding anybody.
    Phil ran the show.
    Phil, with his hunched figure, sunken eyes, and gray hair, would never rise beyond an alderman. He was, however, a very skillful Chicago alderman. As a Chicago alderman, as long as you weren’t a convicted child molester or a member of the NRA, you could get away with most anything. But he had gotten his fingers too dirty for the kind of scrutiny that comes with the elections for a higher office.
    Lee, however, was handsome and charming enough for the business. Phil found all possibilities of opportunities as far as Lee was concerned. Lee wasn’t going to be just a Streets and Sans commissioner forever. No, he was being groomed. Whispers floated through the elevators and walls in City Hall. “Congressman. Maybe even a senator. After that, who knows?”
    And Phil would be the man behind the throne. The only one Lee trusted utterly. Phil was looking forward to all the new pies he’d be able to dip into.
    This morning, however, made the job difficult. “You some kinda run-of-the-mill, bought-and-paid-for politician who puts his dick before the job? Is that it? Is that who you are? Somebody who’d rather fuck some coked-up whore than take care of himself?”
    Lee stammered out, “No . . . no . . . I . . .”
    â€œâ€˜I’ what?” What’s that? What are you trying to say for yourself?”
    â€œI just found out.”
    â€œOh. You just. Found. Out. I see.”
    â€œI’m taking care of this situation.”
    â€œI see.”
    They listened to the whore trying to cry through a shattered face.
    Lee said, “I’ll deal with it. I promise.”
    Phil pushed past him and shut the door softly. He locked it. Tested it. Took a deep breath. He turned on Lee. “What kind of fucking hotel did you set us up with here? Jesus Christ, did my sister beat you in the head with a frying pan when you were a child?”
    â€œWhat the fuck are you talking about?”
    â€œYou aren’t the only one that’s been bit, dickhead.”
    Phil waited until Lee met his eyes, making sure that Lee understood that he was talking about the businessmen who worked so adeptly behind the scenes to make sure the Machine was well-oiled in their favor. “Nobody’s blaming you. Not yet. This goddamn hotel—it’s got fucking bugs, Lee.”
    â€œBugs?” The beating had quickened Lee’s pulse, but his head was still foggy.
    â€œYeah, you fucking idiot. Our friends, they’re all bit up. So am I. Itches like a sonofabitch.”
    Puzzle pieces finally started snapping together for Lee.
    Phil saw the light of understanding finally dawn on Lee’s face. “First, get on the phone with the manager. I want eggs and oysters and Bloody Marys in their rooms five minutes ago. Make sure those guys are taken care of. Next, get Dr. Preston up here immediately. I’ll be there in ten minutes. I gotta go back and get some ointment on these rashes. Tell the manager to meet me in the lobby in fifteen minutes, but I’ll stop by the rooms first, see if I can’t calm the old bastards down.”
    â€œOkay.” Lee looked back at his whore. “Call that pimp. He needs to escort his property from my room. Stupid bitch got drunk and fell out of the tub.”

C HAPTER 12
    9:10 AM
    December 28
    Â 
    Two men and a dog moved in a halting shuffle along the wide corridor. The beagle, Daisy, padded silently along and stopped at the sixth doorway. The two men froze and held their breath. The dog nosed the door open and pushed inside. They followed her inside. Daisy sniffed and pawed at the crumpled sheets that lay at the foot of the bed in the vast suite, gave one short bark, and promptly sat down.
    â€œWhat does that mean?” Mr. Ullman, the general manager asked. He was a sweating,