Chandler_Killer in the Rain988_1018

7/29/2019 Chandler_Killer in the Rain988_1018

1/31

IEWERE SITTING ina room at

theBerglund.Iwasontheside

ofthebed,andDravecwas in

theeasy

chair.

It

was

my

room.

Rain beat very hard against the

windows.Theywereshuttightanditwashotin

the room and I had a little fan going on the

table.Thebreeze from ithitDravecs facehigh

up,liftedhisheavyblackhair,movedthelonger

bristles in the fat path of eyebrow that went

acrosshis face ina solid line.He looked likea

bouncerwho

had

come

into

money.

He showed me some of his gold teeth

andsaid:

Whatyougotonme?

Hesaid it importantly,as ifanyonewho

knew anything would know quite a lot about

him.

Nothing,Isaid.Youreclean,asfaras

Iknow.

Heliftedalargehairyhandandstaredat

itsolidlyforaminute.

You dont get me. A feller named

MGeesentmehere.VioletsMGee.

Fine. How is Violets these days?

Violets MGee was a homicide dick in the

sheriffsoffice.

He looked at his large hand and

frowned.Noyoustilldontget it. Igotajob

for

you.

Idontgooutmuchanymore, I said.

Imgettingkindoffrail.

He looked around the room carefully,

bluffing a bit, like a man not naturally

observant.

Maybeitsmoney,hesaid.

Maybeit

is,

Isaid.


2/31

He had a belted suede raincoat on.He

toreitopencarelesslyandgotoutawalletthat

wasnotquiteasbigasabaleofhay.Currency

stuck out of it at careless angles. When he

slappeditdownonhiskneeitmadeafatsound

thatwas

pleasant

to

the

ear.

He

shook

money

out of it, selected a few bills from the bunch,

stuffedtherestback,droppedthewalletonthe

floorand let it lie,arranged five centurynotes

likeatightpokerhandandputthemunderthe

baseofthefanonthetable.

That was a lot of work. It made him

grunt.

Igot

lots

of

sugar,

he

said.

So Isee.Whatdo Ido for that, if Iget

it?

Youknowmenow,huh?

Alittlebetter.

Igotanenvelopeoutofaninsidepocket

andread

to

him

loud

from

some

scribbling

on

theback.

Dravec, Anton or Tony. Former

Pittsburgh steelworker, truck guard, allround

muscle stiff.Made awrong pass and got shut

up. Left town, came West. Worked on an

avocado ranch at El Seguro. Came up with a

ranchofhisown.Sat righton thedomewhen

theElSegurooilboomburst.Gotrich.Lostalot

ofit

buying

into

other

peoples

dusters.

Still

has

enough.Serbianbybirth,sixfeet,twohundred

and forty,onedaughter,never known tohave

had a wife. No police record of any

consequence.NoneatallsincePittsburgh.

Ilitapipe.

Jeeze, he said. Where you promote

allthat?

Connections.Whatstheangle?

He picked the wallet off the floor and

mousedaroundinsideitwithacoupleofsquare

fingers forawhile,withhistonguestickingout

betweenhis thick lips.He finallygotoutaslim

browncard

and

some

crumpled

slips

of

paper.

Hepushedthematme.

Thecardwasingoldtype,verydelicately

done. It said: Mr.Harold Hardwicke Steiner,

and very small in the corner, RareBooks and

De Luxe Editions. No address or phone

number.

Thewhite slips, three in number,were

simpleI.O.U.s

for

athousand

dollars

each,

signed: Carmen Dravec in a sprawling,

moronichandwriting.

I gave it all back to him and said:

Blackmail?

Heshookhisheadslowlyandsomething

gentlecameintohisfacethathadntbeenthere

before.

Itsmy littlegirlCarmen.ThisSteiner,

hebothersher.Shegoestohisjointallthetime,

makeswhoopee.Hemakeslovetoher,Iguess.I

dontlikeit.

Inodded.Howaboutthenotes?

I dont care nothin about the dough.

She plays gameswith him. The hellwith that.

Sheswhat

you

call

man

crazy.

You

go

tell

this

Steinerto layoffCarmen. Ibreakhisneckwith

myhands.See?

All this in a rush, with deep breathing.

His eyes got small and round, and furious.His

teethalmostchattered.

Isaid:Whyhavemetellhim?Whynot

tellhimyourself?


3/31

Maybe I getmad and kill the! he

yelled.

Ipicked amatchoutofmypocket and

proddedthelooseashinthebowlofmypipe.I

lookedat

him

carefully

for

amoment,

getting

holdofanidea.

Nerts,yourescaredto,Itoldhim.

Both big fists came up. He held them

shoulder high and shook them, great knots of

bone and muscle. He lowered them slowly,

heavedadeephonestsigh,andsaid:

Yeah.Im

scared

to.

Idunno

how

to

handleher.All the time somenewguyandall

thetimeapunk.AwhilebackIgaveaguycalled

Joe Marty five grand to lay off her. Shes still

madatme.

Istaredatthewindow,watchedtherain

hit it, flatten out, and slide down in a thick

wave, likemelted gelatine. Itwas too early in

thefallforthatkindofrain.

Giving them sugar doesnt get you

anywhere, Isaid.Youcouldbedoing thatall

yourlife.Soyoufigureyoudliketohavemeget

roughwiththisone,Steiner.

TellhimIbreakhisneck!

I wouldnt bother, I said. I know

Steiner. Id break his neck for youmyself, if it

woulddo

any

good.

He leaned forward and grabbed my

hand.Hiseyesgotchildish.Agrey tear floated

ineachofthem.

Listen,MGeesaysyoureagoodguy. I

tell you something I aint told nobodyever.

Carmenshes not my kid at all. Ijust picked

herup inSmoky,a littlebaby inthestreet.She

didnt

have

nobody.

I

guess

maybe

I

steal

her,

huh?

Sounds like it, I said,andhad to fight

togetmyhandloose.Irubbedfeelingbackinto

itwith theotherone.Themanhadagrip that

wouldcrackatelephonepole.

Igostraight then,hesaidgrimly,and

yettenderly.Icomeouthereandmakegood.

Shegrowsup.Iloveher.

Isaid:Uhhuh.Thatsnatural.

Youdontgetme.Iwantamarryher.

Istaredathim.

Shegetsolder,getssomesense.Maybe

shemarryme,huh?

His voice implored me, as if I had the

settlingofthat.

Everaskher?

Imscaredto,hesaidhumbly.

ShesoftonSteiner,doyouthink?

He nodded. But that dont mean

nothin.

I could believe that. I got off the bed,

threwawindowupand lettherainhitmyface

foraminute.

Letsget

this

straight,

Isaid,

lowering

thewindowagainandgoingbacktothebed.I

cantakeSteineroffyourback.Thatseasy.Ijust

dontseewhatitbuysyou.

Hegrabbedformyhandagain,butIwas

alittletooquickforhimthistime.

Youcameinherealittletough,flashing

your wad, I said. Youre going out soft. Not

from

anything

Ive

said.

You

knew

it

already.

Im

not Dorothy Dix, and Im only partly a prune.


4/31

But Ill take Steiner off you, if you reallywant

that.

Hestoodupclumsily,swunghishatand

stareddownatmyfeet.

Youtakehimoffmyback,likeyousaid.

Heainthersort,anyway.

Itmighthurtyourbackalittle.

Thats okay. Thats what its for, he

said.

Hebuttonedhimselfup,dumpedhishat

onhis

big

shaggy

head,

and

rolled

on

out.

He

shutthedoorcarefully,asifhewasgoingoutof

asickroom.

I thought he was as crazy as a pair of

waltzingmice,butIlikedhim.

Iputhisgoldbacksinasafeplace,mixed

myself a longdrink, and satdown in the chair

thatwasstillwarmfromhim.

WhileIplayedwiththedrinkIwondered

ifhehadanyideawhatSteinersracketwas.

Steinerhadacollectionofrareandhalf

raresmutbookswhichheloanedoutashighas

tendollarsadaytotherightpeople.

IIItrainedallthenextday.LateintheafternoonI

sat parked in a blue Chrysler roadster,

diagonallyacross theBoulevard fromanarrow

store front, over which a green neon sign in

scriptletterssaid:H.H.Steiner.

The rain splashed kneehigh off the

sidewalks, filled the gutters, and big cops in

slickersthat

shone

like

gun

barrels

had

alot

of

funcarrying littlegirls insilkstockingsandcute

littlerubberbootsacrossthebadplaces,witha

lotofsqueezing.

The rain drummed on the hood of the

Chrysler, beat and tore at the tautmaterial of

thetop,

leaked

in

at

the

buttoned

places,

and

madeapoolonthefloorboardsformetokeep

myfeetin.

IhadabigflaskofScotchwithme.Iused

itoftenenoughtokeepinterested.

Steiner did business, even in that

weather; perhaps especially in that weather.

Verynicecarsstoppedinfrontofhisstore,and

verynice

people

dodged

in,

then

dodged

out

againwithwrappedparcelsundertheirarms.Of

coursetheycouldhavebeenbuyingrarebooks

anddeluxeeditions.

At fivethirty a pimplyfaced kid in a

leatherwindbreakercameoutofthestoreand

slopedupthesidestreetatafasttrot.Hecame

backwithaneatcreamandgreycoup.Steiner

came out and got into the coup. He wore a

darkgreen

leather

raincoat,

acigarette

in

an

amber holder, no hat. I couldnt see his glass

eyeatthatdistancebutIknewhehadone.The

kid in thewindbreaker held an umbrella over

him across the sidewalk, then shut it up and

handeditintothecoup.

Steiner drove west on the Boulevard. I

drovewestontheBoulevard.Pastthebusiness

district,atPepperCanyon,heturnednorth,and

Itailed

him

easily

from

ablock

back.

Iwas

pretty sure he was going home, which was

natural.

He leftPepperDriveand tookacurving

ribbonofwet cementcalled LaVerneTerrace,

climbedupitalmosttothetop.Itwasanarrow

roadwith a high bank on one side and a few

wellspaced cabinlike houses built down the

steepslopeontheotherside.Theirroofswere

not

much

above

road

level.

The

fronts

of

them


5/31

weremasked by shrubs. Sodden trees dripped

alloverthelandscape.

Steiners hideaway had a square box

hedge in front of it, more than windowhigh.

Theentrance

was

asort

of

maze,

and

the

house

doorwasnotvisible fromtheroad.Steinerput

his greyandcream coup in a small garage,

locked up, went through the maze with his

umbrellaup,andlightwentoninthehouse.

WhilehewasdoingthisIhadpassedhim

andgonetothetopofthehill.Iturnedaround

thereandwentbackandparked infrontofthe

nexthouseabovehis.Itseemedtobeclosedup

orempty,

but

had

no

signs

on

it.

Iwent

into

a

conference with my flask of Scotch, and then

justsat.

Atsixfifteenlightsbobbedupthehill.It

wasquitedarkbythen.Acarstoppedinfrontof

Steinershedge.A slim, tallgirl ina slickergot

outof it.Enough light filteredout through the

hedge forme to see that shewas darkhaired

andpossiblypretty.

Voices drifted on the rain and a door

shut.IgotoutoftheChryslerandstrolleddown

thehill,putapencil flash intothecar. Itwasa

darkmaroonorbrownPackard convertible. Its

license read toCarmenDravec,3596 Lucerene

Avenue.Iwentbacktomyheap.

A solid, slowmoving hour crawled by.

No more cars came up or down the hill. It

seemedto

be

avery

quiet

neighborhood.

Then a single flash of hard white light

leaked out of Steiners house, like a flash of

summer lightning.As the darkness fell again a

thintinklingscreamtrickleddownthedarkness

andechoed faintlyamong thewet trees. Iwas

outof theChryslerandonmywaybefore the

lastechoofitdied.

Therewasnofear inthescream. Itheld

thenoteofahalfpleasurableshock,anaccent

ofdrunkenness,andatouchofpureidiocy.

TheSteinermansionwasperfectlysilent

whenIhit

the

gap

in

the

hedge,

dodged

around

theelbowthatmaskedthe frontdoor,andput

myhanduptobangonthedoor.

At that exact moment, as if somebody

had been waiting for it, three shots racketed

closetogetherbehindthedoor.Afterthatthere

was a long, harsh sigh, a soft thump, rapid

steps,goingawayintothebackofthehouse.

Iwasted

time

hitting

the

door

with

my

shoulder, without enough start. It threw me

backlikeakickfromanarmymule.

The door fronted on a narrow runway,

like a small bridge, that led from the banked

road.Therewasnosideporch,nowaytogetat

the windows in a hurry. There was no way

aroundtothebackexceptthroughthehouseor

upalongflightofwoodenstepsthatwentupto

theback

door

from

the

alley

like

street

below.

OnthesestepsInowheardaclatteroffeet.

Thatgaveme the impulseand Ihit the

dooragain,fromthefeetup.Itgaveatthelock

and I pitched down two steps into a big, dim,

cluttered room. Ididntseemuchofwhatwas

in the room then. I wandered through to the

backofthehouse.

Iwas

pretty

sure

there

was

death

in

it.

A car throbbed in the streetbelow as I

reachedthebackporch.Thecarwentawayfast,

withoutlights.Thatwasthat.Iwentbacktothe

livingroom.

III


6/31

Thatroomreachedallthewayacrossthefront

of the house and had a low, beamed ceiling,

wallspaintedbrown.Stripsoftapestryhungall

aroundthewalls.Booksfilledlowshelves.There

wasathick,pinkishrugonwhichsomelightfell

fromtwo

standing

lamps

with

pale

green

shades.Inthemiddleoftherugtherewasabig,

lowdesk and ablack chairwith a yellow satin

cushion at it. There were books all over the

desk.

Onasortofdaisnearoneendwallthere

was a teakwood chair with arms and a high

back.Adarkhairedgirlwassitting inthechair,

onafringedredshawl.

Shesatverystraight,withherhandson

thearmsofthechair,herkneesclosetogether,

her body stiffly erect, her chin level.Her eyes

werewideopenandmadandhadnopupils.

She looked unconscious of what was

going on, but she didnt have the pose of

unconsciousness.Shehadaposeas if shewas

doing something very important andmaking a

lotof

it.

Outofhermouthcameatinnychuckling

noise, which didnt change her expression or

moveherlips.Shedidntseemtoseemeatall.

She was wearing a pair of long jade

earrings, and apart from those she was stark

naked.

Ilooked

away

from

her

to

the

other

end

oftheroom.

Steinerwasonhisbackonthefloor,just

beyondtheedgeofthepinkrug,andinfrontof

a thing that looked like a small totem pole. It

hadaroundopenmouth inwhichthe lensofa

camera showed.The lens seemed tobeaimed

atthegirlintheteakwoodchair.

There

was

a

flash

bulb

apparatus

on

the

floorbesideSteinersoutflunghand ina loose

silk sleeve. The cord of the flashbulb went

behindthetotempolething.

Steiner was wearing Chinese slippers

withthickwhitefeltsoles.Hislegswereinblack

satinpyjamas

and

the

upper

part

of

him

in

an

embroideredChinese coat. The front of itwas

mostlyblood.His glass eye shonebrightly and

was the most lifelike thing about him. At a

glancenoneofthethreeshotshadmissed.

The flashbulbwas the sheet lightning I

had seen leak out of the house and the half

gigglingscreamwasthedopedandnakedgirls

reaction to that. The three shots had been

somebodyelses

idea

of

how

the

proceedings

oughttobepunctuated.Presumablytheideaof

the ladwhohadgonevery fastdown theback

steps.

I could see something in his point of

view.AtthatstageIthoughtitwasagood idea

to shut the front door and fasten it with the

short chain thatwas on it. The lock had been

spoiledbymyviolententrance.

Acoupleofthinpurpleglassesstoodon

aredlacquertrayononeendofthedesk.Alsoa

potbellied flagon of something brown. The

glasses smelled of ether and laudanum, a

mixture Ihadnever tried,but it seemed to fit

thesceneprettywell.

I found the girls clothes on a divan in

thecorner,pickedupabrown,sleeveddressto

beginwith,

and

went

over

to

her.

She

smelled

ofetheralso,atadistanceofseveralfeet.

The tinny chuckling was still going on

and a little froth was oozing down her chin. I

slappedherface,notveryhard.Ididntwantto

bring her out of whatever kind of trance she

wasin,intoascreamingfit.

Comeon,Isaidbrightly.Letsbenice.

Lets

get

dressed.


7/31

She said: Gggoterell, without any

emotionthatIcouldnotice.

I slapped her a little more. She didnt

mind the slaps, so Iwent towork getting the

dresson

her.

Shedidntmindthedresseither.Shelet

meholdherarmsupbutshespreadherfingers

wide,as ifthatwasverycute. Itmademedoa

lotoffinaglingwiththesleeves.Ifinallygotthe

dresson. Igotherstockingson,andhershoes,

andthengotheruponherfeet.

Lets take a little walk, I said. Lets

takeanice

little

walk.

Wewalked.Partofthetimeherearrings

banged againstmy chest and part of the time

welookedlikeacoupleofadagiodancersdoing

thesplits.WewalkedovertoSteinersbodyand

back. She didnt pay any attention to Steiner

andhisbrightglasseye.

She found it amusing that she couldnt

walkand

tried

to

tell

me

about

it,

but

only

bubbled. IputheronthedivanwhileIwadded

her underclothes up and shoved them into a

deeppocketofmyraincoat,putherhandbagin

myotherdeeppocket.IwentthroughSteiners

deskandfoundalittlebluenotebookwrittenin

code that looked interesting. I put that in my

pocket,too.

Then I tried to get at the back of the

camerain

the

totem

pole,

to

get

the

plate,

but

couldntfindthecatchrightaway.Iwasgetting

nervous,and I figured Icouldbuildupabetter

excuse if I ran into the lawwhen I cameback

latertolookforitthananyreasonIcouldgiveif

caughttherenow.

Iwentbacktothegirlandgotherslicker

onher,nosedaroundtosee ifanythingelseof

herswasthere,wipedawayalotoffingerprints

I

probably

hadnt

made,

and

at

least

some

of

thoseMiss Dravecmust havemade. I opened

thedoorandputoutboththelamps.

Igotmy leftarmaroundheragainand

westruggledoutintotherainandpiledintoher

Packard.Ididnt

like

leaving

my

own

bus

there

verywell,butthathadtobe.Herkeyswere in

hercar.Wedriftedoffdownthehill.

Nothing happened on the way to

Lucerne Avenue except that Carmen stopped

bubbling and giggling and went to snoring. I

couldntkeepherheadoffmyshoulder. Itwas

all Icoulddotokeep itoutofmy lap. Ihadto

drive rather slowly and it was a long way

anyhow,clear

over

to

the

west

edge

of

the

city.

The Dravec home was a large old

fashioned brick house in large groundswith a

wallaroundthem.Agreycompositiondriveway

went through iron gates and up a slope past

flowerbedsand lawns toabig frontdoorwith

narrow leadedpanelsoneachsideof it.There

was dim light behind the panels as if nobody

muchwashome.

IpushedCarmenshead into thecorner

and shed her belongings in the seat, and got

out.

Amaidopenedthedoor.ShesaidMister

Dravecwasntinandshedidntknowwherehe

was. Downtown somewhere. She had a long,

yellowish,gentleface,a longnose,nochinand

largeweteyes.Shelooked likeaniceoldhorse

thathad

been

turned

out

to

pasture

after

long

service,andasifshewoulddotherightthingby

Carmen.

Ipointed into thePackardandgrowled:

Better get her to bed. Shes lucky we dont

throwherinthecandrivinaroundwithatool

likethatonher.

ShesmiledsadlyandIwentaway.


8/31

I had to walk five blocks in the rain

beforeanarrowapartmenthouseletmeintoits

lobby to use a phone. Then I had to wait

another twentyfiveminutes fora taxi.While I

waited I began to worry about what I hadnt

completed.

I had yet to get the used plate out of

Steinerscamera.

IVI

paid

the

taxi

off

on

Pepper

Drive,

in

front

of

a

housewhere there was company, andwalked

backup thecurvinghillofLaVerneTerrace to

Steinershousebehinditsshrubbery.

Nothing looked any different. Iwent in

throughthegap inthehedge,pushedthedoor

opengently,andsmelledcigarettesmoke.

It hadnt been there before. There had

beenacomplicatedsetofsmells, including the

sharp memory of smokeless powder. But

cigarette smoke hadnt stood out from the

mixture.

I closed the door and slipped down on

one knee and listened, holding my breath. I

didnthearanythingbut the soundof the rain

on the roof. I tried throwing the beam of my

pencilflashalongthefloor.Nobodyshotatme.

Istraightened

up,

found

the

dangling

tasselofoneofthelampsandmadelightinthe

room.

The first thing I noticed was that a

coupleofstripsoftapestryweregonefromthe

wall. I hadnt counted them, but the spaces

wheretheyhadhungcaughtmyeye.

ThenIsawSteinersbodywasgonefrom

infront

of

the

totem

pole

thing

with

the

camera

eye in its mouth. On the floor below, beyond

the margin of the pink rug, somebody had

spread down a rug over the place where

Steinersbodyhadbeen.Ididnthavetoliftthe

rugtoknowwhyithadbeenputthere.

Ilit

acigarette

and

stood

there

in

the

middle of the dimly lighted room and thought

about it.Afterawhile Iwent to thecamera in

the totem pole. I found the catch this time.

Therewasntanyplateholderinthecamera.

My hand went towards the mulberry

coloredphoneonSteiners lowdesk,butdidnt

takeholdofit.

Icrossed

into

the

little

hallway

beyond

the livingroom andpoked intoa fussylooking

bedroom that looked like a womans room

more than amans. The bed had a long cover

witha flouncededge. I lifted thatandshotmy

flashunderthebed.

Steinerwasntunderthebed.Hewasnt

anywhere in the house. Somebody had taken

him away.He couldnt verywellhave goneby

himself.

It wasnt the law, or somebody would

havebeentherestill.Itwasonlyanhouranda

halfsinceCarmenandIlefttheplace.Andthere

wasnoneofthemesspolicephotographersand

fingerprintmenwouldhavemade.

Iwent back to the livingroom, pushed

theflashbulbapparatusaroundthebackofthe

totempole

with

my

foot,

switched

off

the

lamp,

leftthehouse,got intomyrainsoakedcarand

chokedittolife.

It was all right with me if somebody

wantedtokeeptheSteinerkillhushhush fora

while.ItgavemeachancetofindoutwhetherI

could tell it leaving Carmen Dravec and the

nudephotoangleout.

It

was

after

ten

when

I

got

back

to

the

Berglund and put my heap away and went


9/31

upstairs to the apartment. I stood under a

shower, then put pajamas on andmixed up a

batch of hot grog. I looked at the phone a

coupleof times, thoughtaboutcalling tosee if

Dravec was home yet, thought it might be a

goodidea

to

let

him

alone

until

the

next

day.

Ifilledapipeandsatdownwithmyhot

grogandSteinerslittlebluenotebook.Itwasin

code, but the arrangement of the entries and

theindentedleavesmadeitalistofnamesand

addresses. There were over four hundred and

fiftyofthem.IfthiswasSteinerssucker list,he

had a gold minequite apart from the

blackmailangles.

Anynameonthelistmightbeaprospect

as the killer. I didnt envy the cops their job

whenitwashandedtothem.

Idranktoomuchwhiskeytryingtocrack

the code. About midnight I went to bed, and

dreamed about a man in a Chinese coat with

bloodalloverthefrontwhochasedanakedgirl

with long jade earrings while I tried to

photographthe

scene

with

acamera

that

didnt

haveanyplateinit.

VViolets MGee called me up in the morning,

before Iwasdressed,butafter Ihad seen the

paperandnot foundanythingaboutSteiner in

it.His

voice

had

the

cheerful

sound

of

aman

who had slept well and didnt owe too much

money.

Well,howstheboy?hebegan.

I said I was all right except that I was

havingalittletroublewithmyThirdReader.He

laugheda littleabsently,andthenhisvoicegot

toocasual.

ThisguyDravec that Isentover tosee

youdoneanythingforhimyet?

Toomuchrain,Ianswered,ifthatwas

ananswer.

Uhhuh. He seems to be a guy that

things happen to. A car belongin to him is

washinaboutinthesurfoffLidofishpier.

I didnt say anything. I held the

telephoneverytightly.

Yeah, MGee went on cheerfully. A

nicenewCadallmessedupwithsandandsea

waterOh,

Iforgot.

Theres

aguy

inside

it.

I letmy breath out slowly, very slowly.

Dravec?Iwhispered.

Naw. A young kid. I aint told Dravec

yet.Itsunderthefedora.Wantarundownand

lookatitwithme?

IsaidIwouldliketodothat.

Snap itup. Illbe inmyhutch,MGee

toldmeandhungup.

Shaved,dressedandlightlybreakfastedI

wasattheCountyBuildinginhalfanhourorso.

I found MGee staring at a yellow wall and

sittingatalittleyellowdeskonwhichtherewas

nothingbutMGeeshatandoneoftheMGee

feet.Hetookbothofthemoffthedeskandwe

wentdown

to

the

official

parking

lot

and

got

intoasmallblacksedan.

The rain had stopped during the night

and themorningwas all blue and gold. There

wasenoughsnap intheair tomake lifesimple

andsweet,ifyoudidnthavetoomuchonyour

mind.Ihad.

ItwasthirtymilestoLido,thefirsttenof

them

through

city

traffic.

MGee

made

it

in

threequarters of an hour. At the end of that


10/31

timewe skidded toa stop in frontofa stucco

archbeyondwhichalongblackpierextended.I

tookmyfeetoutofthefloorboardsandwegot

out.

Therewere

afew

cars

and

people

in

front of the arch. A motorcycle officer was

keepingthepeopleoffthepier.MGeeshowed

him a bronze star andwewent out along the

pier, intoa loudsmellthateven twodaysrain

hadfailedtowashaway.

Theresheisonthetug,MGeesaid.

A lowblacktugcrouchedofftheendof

thepier.

Something

large

and

green

and

nickeled was on its deck in front of the

wheelhouse.Menstoodaroundit.

Wewentdown slimy steps to thedeck

ofthetug.

MGee said hello to a deputy in green

khakiandanothermaninplainclothes.Thetug

crewof threemoved over to thewheelhouse,

andset

their

backs

against

it,

watching

us.

We lookedatthecar.Thefrontbumper

was bent, and one headlight and the radiator

shell. The paint and the nickelwere scratched

upbysandandtheupholsterywassoddenand

black.Otherwisethecarwasntmuchtheworse

forwear.Itwasabigjobintwotonesofgreen,

withawinecoloredstripeandtrimming.

MGeeand

Ilooked

into

the

front

part

of

it.A slim,darkhairedkidwhohadbeengood

looking was draped around the steering post,

withhisheadatapeculiarangle to the restof

his body. His face was bluishwhite. His eyes

werea faintdullgleamunderthe lowered lids.

His open mouth had sand in it. There were

traces of blood on the side of his headwhich

theseawaterhadntquitewashedaway.

MGee

backed

away

slowly,

made

a

noise in his throat and began to chew on a

couple of the violetscented breath purifiers

thatgavehimhisnickname.

Whatsthestory?heaskedquietly.

Theuniformed

deputy

pointed

up

to

the

end of the pier. Dirty white railings made of

twobyfours had been broken through in a

wide space and the broken wood showed up

yellowandbright.

Went through there. Must have hit

pretty hard, too. The rain stopped early down

here, about nine, and the brokenwood is dry

inside.Thatputsitaftertherainstopped.Thats

allwe

know

except

she

fell

in

plenty

of

water

nottobebangedupworse;atleasthalftide,Id

say.Thatwouldberightaftertherainstopped.

She showed under the water when the boys

camedowntofishthismorning.Wegotthetug

toliftherout.Thenwefindthedeadguy.

The other deputy scuffed at the deck

withthetoeofhisshoe.MGeelookedsideways

atmewith foxy littleeyes. I lookedblank and

didntsay

anything.

Pretty, drunk that lad, MGee said

gently.Showinoffallaloneintherain.Iguess

he must have been fond of driving. Yeah

prettydrunk.

Drunk, hell, the plainclothes deputy

said. The hand throttles set halfway down

and the guys been sapped on the side of the

head.Ask

me

and

Ill

call

it

murder.

MGee looked at him politely, then at

theuniformedman.Whatyouthink?

It could be suicide, I guess.His necks

broke and he could have hurt his head in the

fall. And his hand could have knocked the

throttle down. I kind of like murder myself,

though.


11/31

MGee nodded, said: Frisked him?

Knowwhoheis?

Thetwodeputies lookedatme, thenat

thetugcrew.

Okay. Save that part, MGee said. I

knowwhoheis.

Asmallmanwithglassesandatiredface

andablackbagcameslowlyalongthepierand

down the slimy steps. He picked out a fairly

cleanplaceon thedeckandputhisbagdown.

He tookhishatoffand rubbed thebackofhis

neckandsmiledwearily.

Lo,Doc.Theresyourpatient,MGee

told him. Took a dive off the pier last night.

Thatsallweknownow.

The medical examiner looked in at the

dead man morosely. He fingered the head,

moved itarounda little,feltthemansribs.He

liftedonelaxhandandstaredatthefingernails.

Heletitfall,steppedbackandpickedhisbagup

again.

About twelvehours,he said. Broken

neck,ofcourse. Idoubt if theresanywater in

him.Bettergethimoutoftherebeforehestarts

togetstiffonus.IlltellyoutherestwhenIget

himonatable.

He nodded around, went back up the

steps and along the pier. An ambulance was

backinginto

position

beside

the

stucco

arch

at

thepierhead.

Thetwodeputiesgruntedandtuggedto

get the deadman out of the car and lay him

downonthedeck,onthesideof thecaraway

fromthebeach.

Lets go, MGee told me. That ends

thispartoftheshow.

We said goodbye and MGee told the

deputiestokeeptheirchinsbuttoneduntilthey

heard fromhim.Wewent back along the pier

and got into the small black sedan and drove

back towards the city along a white highway

washedclean

by

the

rain,

past

low

rolling

hills

of

yellowwhite sand terraced with moss. A few

gullswheeled and swoopedover something in

thesurf.Farouttoseaacoupleofwhiteyachts

on the horizon looked as if they were

suspendedinthesky.

We laid a fewmiles behind uswithout

saying anything to each other. Then MGee

cockedhischinatmeandsaid:

Gotideas?

Loosenup,Isaid.Ineversawtheguy

before.Whoishe?

Hell,Ithoughtyouwasgoingtotellme

aboutit.

Loosenup,Violets,Isaid.

He growled, shrugged, and we nearly

wentofftheroadintotheloosesand.

Dravecs chauffeur. A kid named Carl

Owen. How do I know? We had him in the

cooler a year ago on aMann Act rap.He run

Dravecs hotcha daughter off to Yuma.Dravec

went after them and brought them back and

had theguyheaved in thegoldfishbowl.Then

thegirl

gets

to

him,

and

next

morning

the

old

man steams downtown and begs the guy off.

Says the kid meant to marry her, only she

wouldnt. Then, by heck, the kid goes back to

work forhimandbeen thereeversince.What

youthinkofthat?

ItsoundsjustlikeDravec,Isaid.

Yeahbut the kid could have had a

relapse.


12/31

MGee had silvery hair and a knobby

chin and a little pouting mouth made to kiss

babieswith. I lookedathis face sideways,and

suddenlyIgothisidea.Ilaughed.

Youthink

maybe

Dravec

killed

him?

I

asked.

Whynot?The kidmakesanotherpass

at the girl andDravec cracksdown athim too

hard. Hes a big guy and could break a neck

easy.Thenhesscared.Herunsthecardownto

Lido in the rainand lets it slideoff theendof

the pier. Thinks it wont show. Maybe dont

thinkatall.Justrattled.

Itsakickinthepants,Isaid.Thenall

hehadtodowaswalkhomethirtymiles inthe

rain.

Goon.Kidme.

Dravec killed him, sure, I said. But

theywereplayingleapfrog.Dravecfellonhim.

Okay,pal.

Some

day

youll

want

to

play

withmycatnipmouse.

Listen,Violets, I said seriously. If the

kid was murderedand youre not sure its

murder at allits notDravecs kind of crime.

Hemight kill aman in a temperbut hed let

himlay.Hewouldntgotoallthatfuss.

We shuttled back and forth across the

roadwhile

MGee

thought

about

that.

Whatapal,hecomplained.Ihaveme

a swell theoryand lookwhat youdone to it. I

wish the hell I hadnt brought you. Hell with

you.ImgoinafterDravecjustthesame.

Sure,Iagreed.Youdhavetodothat.

ButDravecneverkilled thatboy.Hes too soft

insidetocoveruponit.

Itwasnoonwhenwegotbacktotown.I

hadnt had any dinner but whiskey the night

beforeandvery littlebreakfast thatmorning. I

gotoffon theBoulevardand letMGee goon

alonetoseeDravec.

Iwas interested inwhat hadhappened

to Carl Owen; but I wasnt interested in the

thoughtthatDravecmighthavemurderedhim.

I ate lunch at a counter and looked

casually at an early afternoon paper. I didnt

expecttoseeanythingaboutSteinerinit,andI

didnt.

Afterlunch

Iwalked

along

the

Boulevard

sixblockstohavealookatSteinersstore.

VIItwasahalfstorefrontage,theotherhalfbeing

occupied by a creditjeweler. Thejewelerwas

standing in his entrance, a big, whitehaired,

blackeyed Jew with about nine carats of

diamond on his hand. A faint, knowing smile

curvedhislipsasIwentpasthimintoSteiners.

A thick blue rug paved Steiners from

walltowall.Therewereblueleathereasychairs

with smoke standsbeside them.A few setsof

tooled leather books were put out on narrow

tables.Therestofthestockwasbehindglass.A

paneledpartitionwithasingledoorinitcutoff

aback

part

of

the

store,

and

in

the

corner

by

this a woman sat behind a small desk with a

hoodedlamponit.

She got up and came towards me,

swinging lean thighs in a tight dress of some

blackmaterial thatdidnt reflectany light.She

was an ashblonde, with greenish eyes under

heavilymascaraed lashes.Therewere largejet

buttonsinthelobesofherears;herhairwaved

back

smoothly

from

behind

them.

Her

fingernailsweresilvered.


13/31

She gave me what she thought was a

smile of welcome, but what I thought was a

grimaceofstrain.

Wasit

something?

I pulled my hat low over my eyes and

fidgeted.Isaid:

Steiner?

Hewontbeintoday.MayIshowyou

Imselling,

Isaid.

Something

hes

wantedforalongtime.

Thesilveredfingernailstouchedthehair

overoneear.Oh,asalesmanWell,youmight

comeintomorrow.

Hesick? Icouldgoup to thehouse, I

suggestedhopefully. Hedwant to seewhat I

have.

Thatjarredher.Shehadto fightforher

breath foraminute.Buthervoicewassmooth

enoughwhenitcame.

Thatthat wouldnt be any use. Hes

outoftowntoday.

Inodded, lookedproperlydisappointed,

touchedmyhatandstartedtoturnawaywhen

thepimply

faced

kid

of

the

night

before

stuck

hishead through the door in thepaneling.He

wentbackassoonashesawme,butnotbefore

I saw some loosely packed cases of books

behindhimonthefloorofthebackroom.

The cases were small and open and

packedanyoldway.Amaninverynewoveralls

was fussingwith them.SomeofSteinersstock

wasbeingmovedout.

I left thestoreandwalkeddown to the

corner,thenback to thealley.BehindSteiners

stood a small black truck with wire sides. It

didnt have any lettering on it. Boxes showed

through thewire sides and, as I watched, the

manin

overalls

came

out

with

another

one

and

heaveditup.

IwentbacktotheBoulevard.Haifablock

on,afreshfacedkidwasreadingamagazine in

aparkedGreenTop. I showedhimmoneyand

said:

Tailjob?

Helooked

me

over,

swung

his

door

open, and stuckhismagazinebehind the rear

visionmirror.

Mymeat,boss,hesaidbrightly.

Wewentaroundtotheendofthealley

andwaitedbesideafireplug.

Therewereaboutadozenboxesonthe

truckwhen

the

man

in

the

very

new

overalls

got

up in front and gunned his motor. He went

downthealleyfastandturnedleftonthestreet

at theend.Mydriverdid the same. The truck

wentnorth toGarfield, theneast. Itwentvery

fast and therewas a lot of traffic onGarfield.

Mydrivertailedfromtoofarback.

I was telling him about that when the

truckturnednorthoffGarfieldagain.Thestreet

atwhich

it

turned

was

called

Brittany.

When

we

gottoBrittanytherewasntanytruck.

The freshfacedkidwhowasdrivingme

made comforting sounds through the glass

panel of the cab and we went up Brittany at

fourmilesanhour lookingforthetruckbehind

bushes.Irefusedtobecomforted.

Brittany bore a little to the east two

blocks

up

and

met

the

next

street,

Randall

Place,inatongueoflandonwhichtherewasa


14/31

whiteapartmenthousewithitsfrontonRandall

Place and its basement garage entrance on

Brittany,astorylower.Weweregoingpastthat

andmydriverwastellingmethetruckcouldnt

beveryfarawaywhenIsawitinthegarage.

We went around to the front of the

apartment house and I got out andwent into

thelobby.

Therewas no switchboard.A deskwas

pushedbackagainstthewall,asifitwasntused

anymore.Above itnameswereon apanelof

giltmailboxes.

Thename

that

went

with

Apartment

405

was JosephMarty. JoeMartywas thenameof

themanwhoplayedwithCarmenDravecuntil

herpapa gavehim five thousanddollars to go

awayandplaywithsomeothergirl. Itcouldbe

thesameJoeMarty.

Iwentdownstepsandpushedthrougha

doorwithawiredglasspanel intothedimness

ofthegarage.Themanintheverynewoveralls

wasstacking

boxes

in

the

automatic

elevator.

I stoodnearhimand litacigaretteand

watchedhim.Hedidnt like itverywell,buthe

didntsayanything.AfterawhileIsaid:

Watch the weight, buddy. Shes only

testedforhalfaton.Wheresitgoin?

Marty, fourofive, he said, and then

lookedas

ifhe

was

sorry

he

had

said

it.

Fine,Itoldhim.Itlookslikeanicelot

ofreading.

Iwentbackupthestepsandoutofthe

building,gotintomyGreenTopagain.

We drove back downtown to the

buildingwhereIhaveanoffice.Igavethedriver

too

much

money

and

he

gave

me

a

dirty

card

which Idropped into thebrass spittoonbeside

theelevators.

Dravecwasholdingup thewalloutside

thedoorofmyoffice.

VIIAfter the rain, itwaswarm and bright but he

still had the belted suede raincoat on. It was

opendownthefront,aswerehiscoat,andvest

underneath.Histiewasunderoneear.Hisface

looked

like

a

mask

of

grey

putty

with

a

black

stubbleonthelowerpartofit.

Helookedawful.

I unlocked the door and patted his

shoulderandpushedhim inandgothim intoa

chair.Hebreathedhardbutdidntsayanything.

Igotabottleofryeoutofthedeskandpoured

a couple of ponies. He drank both of them

without aword. Thenhe slumped in the chair

and blinked his eyes and groaned and took a

squarewhiteenvelopeoutofan innerpocket.

Heputitdownonthedesktopandheldhisbig

hairyhandoverit.

Tough about Carl, I said. I was with

MGeethismorning.

He looked at me emptily. After a little

whilehesaid:

Yeah. Carlwas a good kid. I aint told

youabouthimmuch.

Iwaited, lookingat theenvelopeunder

hishand.Helookeddownatithimself.

Igotta letyousee it,hemumbled.He

pushed it slowly across the desk and liftedhis

hand off it as if with the movement he was

givingup

most

everything

that

made

life

worth


15/31

living.Two tearswelledup inhiseyesand slid

downhisunshavencheeks.

I lifted the squareenvelopeand looked

at it. Itwas addressed to him at his house, in

neatpen

and

ink

printing,

and

bore

aSpecial

Delivery stamp. I opened it and looked at the

shinyphotographthatwasinside.

CarmenDravecsatinSteinersteakwood

chair, wearing her jade earrings. Her eyes

looked crazier, if anything, than as I had seen

them. I looked at the back of the photo, saw

that itwasblank,andput the thing facedown

onmydesk.

Tellmeaboutit,Isaidcarefully.

Dravecwipedthetearsoffhis facewith

his sleeve, put his hands flat on the desk and

stared down at the dirty nails. His fingers

trembledonthedesk.

A guy called me, he said in a dead

voice. Ten grand for theplateand theprints.

Thedeals

got

to

be

closed

tonight,

or

they

give

thestufftosomescandalsheet.

Thatsalotofhooey,Isaid.Ascandal

sheetcouldntuseit,excepttobackupastory.

Whatsthestory?

He liftedhiseyesslowly,as iftheywere

veryheavy.Thataintall.Theguysaystheresa

jamto it.Ibettercomethroughfast,or Idfind

mygirl

in

the

cooler.

Whatsthestory? Iaskedagain,filling

mypipe.WhatdoesCarmensay?

He shook his big shaggy head. I aint

askedher. Iaintgot theheart.Poor littlegirl.

No clothes on herNo, I aint got theheart

YouaintdonenothinonSteineryet,Iguess.

I

didnt

have

to,

I

told

him.

Somebody

beatmetoit.

He stared at me openmouthed,

uncomprehending. It was obvious he knew

nothingaboutthenightbefore.

DidCarmen

go

out

at

all

last

night?

I

askedcarelessly.

Hewasstillstaringwithhismouthopen,

gropinginhismind.

No.Shessick.Shessick inbedwhen I

get home. She dont go out at allWhat you

meanaboutSteiner?

Ireached

for

the

bottle

of

rye

and

poureduseachadrink.ThenIlitmypipe.

Steinersdead, I said. Somebody got

tiredofhistricksandshothimfullofholes.Last

night,intherain.

Jeeze, he saidwonderingly. Youwas

there?

Ishook

my

head.

Not

me.

Carmen

was

there. Thats thejam your man spoke of. She

didntdotheshooting,ofcourse.

Dravecs face got red and angry. He

balledhis fists.Hisbreathmadeaharshsound

andapulsebeatvisiblyinthesideofhisneck.

Thatainttrue!Shessick.Shedontgo

outatall.ShessickinbedwhenIgethome!

You told me that, I said. Thats not

true. IbroughtCarmenhomemyself.Themaid

knows,only shes trying tobedecentabout it.

Carmen was at Steiners house and I was

watchingoutside.Agunwentoffandsomeone

ran away. I didnt see him. Carmen was too

drunktoseehim.Thatswhyshessick.

Hiseyes tried to focusonmy face,but

they

were

vague

and

empty,

as

if

the

light

behindthemhaddied.Hetookholdofthearms


16/31

of the chair.His big knuckles strained and got

white.

Shedont tellme,hewhispered.She

dont tellme.Me, thatwould do anything for

her.There

was

no

emotion

in

his

voice;

just

the

deadexhaustionofdespair.

He pushed his chair back a little. I go

getthedough,hesaid.Thetengrand.Maybe

theguydonttalk.

Thenhebroke.Hisbigroughheadcame

down on the desk and sobs shook his whole

body.Istoodupandwentaroundthedeskand

pattedhis

shoulder,

kept

on

patting

it,

not

sayinganything.Afterawhilehe liftedhis face

smearedwithtearsandgrabbedformyhand.

Jeeze,youreagoodguy,hesobbed.

Youdontknowthehalfofit.

Ipulledmyhandawayfromhimandgot

adrinkintohispaw,helpedhimliftitanddown

it.Then

Itook

the

empty

glass

out

of

his

hand

andputitbackonthedesk.Isatdownagain.

Youve got to brace up, I told him

grimly. The law doesnt know about Steiner

yet.IbroughtCarmenhomeandkeptmymouth

shut.IwantedtogiveyouandCarmenabreak.

That putsme in ajam. Youve got to do your

part.

Henodded

slowly,

heavily.

Yeah,

Ido

whatyousayanythingyousay.

Get themoney, I said. Have it ready

forthecall.Ivegotideasandyoumaynothave

touse it.But itsno time toget foxyGet the

moneyandsittightandkeepyourmouthshut.

Leavetheresttome.Canyoudothat?

Yeah, he said. Jeeze, youre a good

guy.

Donttalk toCarmen, Isaid.The less

she remembers out of her drunk, the better.

Thispicture Itouchedthebackofthephoto

on thedesk, shows somebodywasworking

withSteiner.Wevegottogethimandgethim

quickevenif

it

costs

ten

grand

to

do

it.

He stood up slowly. Thats nothin.

Thatsjust dough. I go get it now. Then I go

home.Youdo it likeyouwantto.Me, Idojust

likeyousay.

Hegrabbedformyhandagain,shookit,

andwent slowly out of the office. I heard his

heavystepsdragdownthehall.

I drank a couple of drinks fast and

moppedmyface.

VIIIIdrovemyChryslerslowlyupLaVerneTerrace

towardsSteinershouse.

In the daylight, I could see the steep

dropof thehilland the flightofwooden steps

downwhichthekillerhadmadehisescape.The

streetbelowwasalmostasnarrowasanalley.

Two small houses fronted on it, not very near

Steiners place. With the noise the rain had

beenmaking,itwasdoubtful ifanyone inthem

hadpaidmuchattentiontotheshots.

Steinerslooked

peaceful

under

the

afternoon sun. The unpainted shingles of the

roofwerestilldampfromtherain.Thetreeson

theothersideof thestreethadnew leaveson

them.Therewerenocarsonthestreet.

Something moved behind the square

growth of box hedge that screened Steiners

frontdoor.

CarmenDravec,

in

agreen

and

white

checkered coat and no hat, came out through


17/31

the opening, stopped suddenly, looked at me

wildeyed, as if she hadnt heard the car. She

wentbackquicklybehindthehedge.Idroveon

andparkedinfrontoftheemptyhouse.

Igot

out

and

walked

back.

In

the

sunlight

it felt like an exposed and dangerous thing to

do.

Iwent inthroughthehedgeandthegirl

stood thereverystraightandsilentagainst the

halfopenhousedoor.Onehandwentslowlyto

hermouth,andherteethbitatafunnylooking

thumbthatwaslikeanextrafinger.Therewere

deep purpleblack smudges under her

frightenedeyes.

Ipushedherbackintothehousewithout

saying anything, shut the door. We stood

looking at each other inside. She dropped her

hand slowly and tried to smile. Then all

expression went out of her white face and it

looked as intelligent as the bottom of a shoe

box.

Igot

gentleness

into

my

voice

and

said:

Take iteasy. Impals.Sitdown in that

chairby thedesk. Ima friendofyour fathers.

Dontgetpanicky.

She went and sat down on the yellow

cushionintheblackchairatSteinersdesk.

Theplace lookeddecadentandoffcolor

bydaylight.

It

still

stank

of

the

ether.

Carmen lickedthecornersofhermouth

with the tipofawhitish tongue.Herdarkeyes

were stupid and stunned rather than scared

now. I rolled a cigarette around inmy fingers

andpushedsomebooksoutofthewaytositon

theedgeofthedesk.Ilitmycigarette,puffedit

slowlyforamoment,thenasked:

What

are

you

doing

here?

She picked at thematerial of her coat,

didntanswer.Itriedagain.

Howmuchdoyourememberaboutlast

night?

Sheanswered that.Rememberwhat? I

wassick lastnightathome.Hervoicewasa

cautious, throaty sound that onlyjust reached

myears.

Before that, I said. Before I brought

youhome.Here.

Aslowflushcreptupherthroatandher

eyeswidened.

Youyou

were

the

one?

she

breathed, and began to chew on her funny

thumbagain.

Yeah,Iwastheone.Howmuchof itall

stayswithyou?

Shesaid:Areyouthepolice?

No. I told you I was a friend of your

fathers.

Yourenotthepolice?

No.

It finally registered. She let out a long

sigh.Whatwhatdoyouwant?

Whokilledhim?

Her shoulders jerked in the checkered

coat,butnothingchangedmuchinherface.Her

eyesslowlygotfurtive.

Whowhoelseknows?

About Steiner? I dont know. Not the

police, or someone would be here. Maybe

Marty.


18/31

Itwasjustastabinthedark,butitgota

sudden,sharpcryoutofher.

Marty!

Wewere

both

silent

for

aminute.

I

puffedonmycigaretteandshechewedonher

thumb.

Dontgetclever,Isaid.DidMartykill

him?

Herchincamedownaninch.Yes.

Whydidhedoit?

IIdontknow,verydully.

Seenmuchofhimlately?

Her hands clenched. Just once or

twice.

Knowwherehelives?

Yes!She

spat

it

at

me.

Whatsthematter? Ithoughtyou liked

Marty.

Ihatehim!shealmostyelled.

Thenyoudlikehimforthespot,Isaid.

Shewasblanktothat.Ihadtoexplainit.

Imean,

are

you

willing

to

tell

the

police

it

was

Marty?

Suddenpanicflamedinhereyes.

If I kill the nude photo angle, I said

soothingly.

Shegiggled.

That

gave

me

a

nasty

feeling.

If

she

had

screeched, or turned white, or even keeled

over, thatwould have been fairly natural. But

shejustgiggled.

I began to hate the sight of her. Just

lookingathermademefeeldopey.

Her giggles went on, ran around the

room like rats. They gradually got hysterical. I

gotoff thedesk, tooka step towardsher,and

slappedherface.

Justlikelastnight,Isaid.

The giggling stopped at once and the

thumbchewing started again. She still didnt

mindmy

slaps

apparently.

Isat

on

the

end

of

thedeskoncemore.

Youcamehere to look for the camera

plateforthebirthdaysuitphoto,Itoldher.

Herchinwentupanddownagain.

Toolate.Ilookedforitlastnight.Itwas

gone then. Probably Marty has it. Youre not

kiddingme

about

Marty?

She shookherhead vigorously.She got

outof the chair slowly.Hereyeswerenarrow

andsloeblackandasshallowasanoystershell.

Imgoingnow, she said,as ifwehad

beenhavingacupoftea.

She went over to the door and was

reachingout

to

open

it

when

acar

came

up

the

hill and stoppedoutside thehouse. Somebody

gotoutofthecar.

Sheturnedandstaredatme,horrified.

The door opened casually and a man

lookedinatus.

IX


19/31

Hewasahatchetfacedmaninabrownsuitand

ablack felthat.Thecuffofhis left sleevewas

foldedunderandpinnedtothesideofhiscoat

withabigblacksafetypin.

He tookhishat off, closed the door by

pushing itwithhisshoulder, lookedatCarmen

with a nice smile.He had closecropped black

hairandabonyskull.Hefittedhisclotheswell.

Hedidntlooktough.

Im Guy Slade, he said. Excuse the

casualentrance.Thebelldidntwork. IsSteiner

around?

Hehadnt tried thebell.Carmen looked

athimblankly,thenatme,thenbackatSlade.

Shelickedherlipsbutdidntsayanything.

I said: Steiner isnt here,Mister Slade.

Wedontknowjustwhereheis.

He nodded and touched his long chin

withthebrimofhishat.

Youfriendsofhis?

Wejustdroppedbyforabook, Isaid,

andgavehimbackhissmile.Thedoorwashalf

open. We knocked, then stepped inside. Just

likeyou.

I see, Slade said thoughtfully. Very

simple.

Ididntsayanything.Carmendidntsay

anything. Shewas staring fixedly at his empty

sleeve.

A book, eh? Sladewent on. Theway

he said it told me things. He knew about

Steinersracket,maybe.

I moved over towards the door. Only

you

didnt

knock,

I

said.

He smiled with faint embarrassment.

Thatsright.Ioughttohaveknocked.Sorry.

Welltrotalongnow,Isaidcarelessly.I

tookholdofCarmensarm.

Anymessageif Steiner comesback?

Sladeaskedsoftly.

Wewontbotheryou.

Thatstoobad,hesaid,withtoomuch

meaning.

IletgoofCarmensarmandtookaslow

stepaway

from

her.

Slade

still

had

his

hat

in

his

hand. He didnt move. His deepset eyes

twinkledpleasantly.

Iopenedthedooragain.

Sladesaid:Thegirlcango.ButIdliketo

talktoyoualittle.

Istaredathim,tryingtolookveryblank.

Kidder,eh?Sladesaidnicely.

Carmen made a sudden sound at my

sideandranoutthroughthedoor.Inamoment

Iheardher stepsgoingdown thehill. Ihadnt

seen her car, but I guessed it was around

somewhere.

Ibegantosay:Whatthehell

Save it, Slade interrupted coldly.

Theressomethingwronghere.Illjustfindout

whatitis.

He began to walk around the room

carelesslytoocarelessly.Hewasfrowning,not

paying much attention to me. That made me

thoughtful. I took a quick glance out of the

window,butIcouldntseeanythingbutthetop

of

his

car

above

the

hedge.


20/31

Slade found the potbellied flagon and

the two thin purple glasses on the desk. He

sniffed at one of them. A disgusted smile

wrinkledhisthinlips.

Thelousy

pimp,

he

said

tonelessly.

He looked at the books on the desk,

touched one or two of them,wenton around

the back of the desk and was in front of the

totem pole thing. He stared at that. Then his

eyes went down to the floor, to the thin rug

that was over the place where Steiners body

had been. Slade moved the rug with his foot

andsuddenlytensed,staringdown.

Itwas a good actor else Slade had a

noseIcouldhaveused inmybusiness. Iwasnt

sure whichyet, but I was giving it a lot of

thought.

Hewentslowlydowntotheflooronone

knee.Thedeskpartlyhidhimfromme.

I slippedagunout fromundermyarm

andput

both

hands

behind

my

body

and

leaned

againstthewall.

There was a sharp, swift exclamation,

thenSladeshottohisfeet.Hisarmflashedup.A

long, black Luger slid into it expertly. I didnt

move.SladeheldtheLugerinlong,palefingers,

notpointingitatme,notpointingitatanything

inparticular.

Blood,he

said

quietly,

grimly,

his

deepset eyes black and hard now. Blood on

thefloorthere,underarug.Alotofblood.

I grinned at him. I noticed it, I said.

Itsoldblood.Driedblood.

He slid sideways into the black chair

behindSteinersdeskand raked the telephone

towardshimbyputtingtheLugeraround it.He

frowned

at

the

telephone,

then

frowned

at

me.

Ithinkwellhavesomelaw,hesaid.

Suitsme.

Sladeseyeswerenarrowandashardas

jet.He

didnt

like

my

agreeing

with

him.

The

veneer had flaked off him, leaving a well

dressedhardboywithaLuger.Lookingas ifhe

coulduseit.

Justwhothehellareyou?hegrowled.

A shamus. The name doesnt matter.

The girl ismy client. Steiners been riding her

with some blackmail dirt. We came to talk to

him.He

wasnt

here.

Justwalkin,huh?

Correct. So what? Think we gunned

Steiner,MisterSlade?

He smiled slightly, thinly, but said

nothing.

Ordo

you

think

Steiner

gunned

somebodyandranaway?Isuggested.

Steinerdidntgunanybody,Sladesaid.

Steinerdidnthavethegutsofasickcat.

I said:Youdontseeanybodyhere,do

you?MaybeSteinerhadchickenfordinner,and

likedtokillhischickensintheparlor.

Idont

get

it.

Idont

get

your

game.

Igrinnedagain.Goaheadandcallyour

friends downtown. Only you wont like the

reactionyoullget.

He thought thatoverwithoutmovinga

muscle.Hislipswentbackagainsthisteeth.

Whynot?heaskedfinally, inacareful

voice.


21/31

Isaid:Iknowyou,MisterSlade.Yourun

theAladdinClub downon the Palisades. Flash

gambling.Soft lightsandeveningclothesanda

buffet supper on the side. You know Steiner

well enough to walk into his house without

knocking.Steiners

racket

needed

alittle

protectionnowandthen.Youcouldbethat.

Slades finger tightened on the Luger,

then relaxed. He put the Luger down on the

desk,kepthisfingersonit.Hismouthbecamea

hardwhitegrimace.

Somebody got to Steiner, he said

softly,hisvoiceand theexpressiononhis face

seemingto

belong

to

two

different

people.

He

didntshowatthestoretoday.Hedidntanswer

hisphone.Icameuptoseeaboutit.

Glad to hear you didnt gun Steiner

yourself,Isaid.

The Luger swept up again and made a

targetofmychest.Isaid:

Putit

down,

Slade.

You

dont

know

enoughtopopoffyet.Notbeingbulletproofis

an idea Ivehadtogetusedto.Put itdown. Ill

tell you somethingif you dont know it.

Somebody moved Steiners books out of his

storetoday thebookshedidhisrealbusiness

with.

Sladeputhisgundownon thedesk for

the second time.He leanedbackandwrestled

anamiable

expression

on

to

his

face.

Imlistening,hesaid.

I thinksomebodygot toSteiner too, I

told him. I think that blood is his blood. The

books being moved out from Steiners store

givesusareasonformovinghisbodyawayfrom

here. Somebody is taking over the racket and

doesnt want Steiner found till hes all set.

Whoever

it

was

ought

to

have

cleaned

up

the

blood.Hedidnt.

Slade listened silently. The peaks of his

eyebrowsmadesharpanglesagainstthewhite

skinofhisindoorforehead.Iwenton:

KillingSteiner

to

grab

his

racket

was

a

dumb trick, and Imnot sure ithappened that

way.ButIamsurethatwhoevertookthebooks

knowsaboutit,andthattheblondedowninthe

storeisscaredstiffaboutsomething.

Anymore?Sladeaskedevenly.

Not right now. Theres a piece of

scandaldope Iwantto trace. If Iget it, Imight

tellyou

where.

That

will

be

your

muscler

in.

Nowwouldbebetter,Sladesaid.Then

he drew his lips back against his teeth and

whistledsharply,twice.

I jumped. A car door opened outside.

Thereweresteps.

I brought the gun around from behind

mybody.

Slades

face

convulsed

and

his

hand

snatched fortheLuger that lay in frontofhim,

fumbledatthebutt.

Isaid:Donttouchit!

He came to his feet rigid, leaningover,

his hand on the gun, but the gun not in his

hand. I dodged past him into the hallway and

turnedastwomencameintotheroom.

One had short red hair, a white, lined

face,unsteadyeyes.Theotherwasanobvious

pug;agoodlookingboyexcept fora flattened

noseandoneearasthickasaclubsteak.

Neitherof thenewcomershadagun in

sight.Theystopped,stared.

I stood behind Slade in the doorway.

Slade

leaned

over

the

desk

in

front

of

me,

didnt

stir.


22/31

Thepugsmouthopenedinawidesnarl,

showingsharp,whiteteeth.Theredheadlooked

shakyandscared.

Sladehad

plenty

of

guts.

In

asmooth,

low,butveryclearvoicehesaid:

This heel gunned Steiner, boys. Take

him!

The redhead took hold of his lower lip

with his teeth and snatched for something

underhis leftarm.Hedidntget it.Iwasallset

and braced. I shot him through the right

shoulder,hating

to

do

it.

The

gun

made

alot

of

noise intheclosedroom. Itseemedtomethat

itwouldbeheardalloverthecity.Theredhead

went down on the floor and writhed and

threshedaboutasifIhadshothiminthebelly.

Thepugdidntmove.Heprobablyknew

there wasnt enough speed in his arm. Slade

grabbedhisLugerupandstartedtowhirl.Itook

a step and slammed him behind the ear. He

sprawledforward

over

the

desk

and

the

Luger

shotagainstarowofbooks.

Sladedidnthearmesay:Ihatetohita

onearmedmanfrombehind,Slade.AndImnot

crazyabouttheshowoff.Youmademedoit.

Thepuggrinnedatmeandsaid:Okay,

pal.Whatnext?

Idlike

to

get

out

of

here,

if

Ican

do

it

without any more shooting. Or I can stick

aroundforsomelaw.Itsallonetome.

He thought itover calmly.The redhead

wasmakingmoaningnoiseson the floor.Slade

wasverystill.

The pug put his hands up slowly and

claspedthembehindhisneck.Hesaidcoolly:

I dont knowwhat its all about, but I

dont give a gooddamn where you go or

whatyoudowhenyougetthere.Andthisaint

myideaofaspotforaleadparty.Drift!

Wiseboy.

Youve

more

sense

than

your

boss.

I edged around the desk, edged over

towardstheopendoor.Thepugturnedslowly,

facingme, keeping his hands behind his neck.

Therewasawrybutalmostgoodnaturedgrin

onhisface.

I skinned through thedoorandmadea

fastbreak

through

the

gap

in

the

hedge

and

up

thehill,halfexpectingleadtoflyafterme.None

came.

Ijumped intotheChryslerandchased it

upoverthebrowofthehillandawayfromthat

neighborhood.

X

It was after fivewhen I stopped opposite the

apartment house on Randall Place. A few

windowswere litupalreadyandradiosbleated

discordantly on different programs. I rode the

automatic elevator to the fourth floor.

Apartment405wasattheendofalonghallthat

was carpeted in green andpaneled in ivory.A

cool breeze blew through the hall from open

doorsto

the

fire

escape.

There was a small ivory pushbutton

besidethedoormarked405.Ipushedit.

Afteralongtimeamanopenedthedoor

a foot or so. He was a longlegged, thin man

withdarkbrowneyesinaverybrownface.Wiry

hair grew far back on his head, giving him a

greatdealofdomedbrownforehead.Hisbrown

eyesprobed

at

me

impersonally.


23/31

Isaid:Steiner?

Nothing in themans face changed.He

brought a cigarette from behind the door and

putitslowlybetweentightbrownlips.Apuffof

smokecame

towards

me,

and

behind

it

words

in a cool, unhurried voice, without inflection.

Yousaidwhat?

Steiner.HaroldHardwickeSteiner.The

guythathasthebooks.

The man nodded. He considered my

remarkwithouthaste.Heglancedat the tipof

hiscigarette,said:

I think Iknowhim.Buthedoesntvisit

here.Whosentyou?

Ismiled.Hedidntlikethat.Isaid:

YoureMarty?

The brown face got harder. So what?

Gotagriftorjustamusinyourself?

Imovedmyleftfootcasually,enoughso

thathecouldntslamthedoor.

You got the books, I said. I got the

suckerlist.Howstotalkitover?

Martydidntshifthiseyesfrommyface.

His right hand went behind the panel of the

dooragain,andhisshoulderhada lookas ifhe

wasmaking

motions

with

ahand.

There

was

afaintsoundintheroombehindhimveryfaint.

Acurtainringclickedlightlyonarod.

Then he opened the door wide. Why

not?Ifyouthinkyouvegotsomething,hesaid

coolly.

Iwentpasthim into the room. Itwasa

cheerfulroom,withgoodfurnitureandnottoo

much

of

it.

French

windows

in

the

end

wall

looked across a stone porch at the foothills,

already getting purple in the dusk. Near the

windowsadoorwasshut.Anotherdoor in the

same wall at the near end of the room had

curtainsdrawnacross it,onabrass rodbelow

thelintel.

I sat down on a davenport against the

wall inwhich therewerenodoors.Marty shut

the door and walked sideways to a tall oak

writingdesk studded with square nails. A

cedarwoodcigarboxwithgilthingesrestedon

theloweredleafofthedesk.Martypickeditup

without taking his eyes offme, carried it to a

low tablebesideaneasychair.Hesatdown in

theeasychair.

Iputmyhatbesidemeandopenedthe

topbuttonofmycoatandsmiledatMarty.

WellImlistening,hesaid.

He stubbed his cigarette out, lifted the

lidofthecigarboxandtookoutacoupleoffat

cigars.

Cigar?he

suggested

casually,

and

tossedoneatme.

Ireachedforitandthatmademeasap.

Martydroppedtheothercigarbackintothebox

andcameupveryswiftlywithagun.

I looked at the gun politely. It was a

black police Colt, a .38. I had no argument

againstitatthemoment.

Standupaminute,Martysaid.Come

forwardjustabouttwoyards.Youmightgraba

littleairwhileyouredoingthat.Hisvoicewas

elaboratelycasual.

Iwasmad inside,but Igrinnedathim. I

said:

Youre the second guy Ive met today

that

thinks

a

gun

in

the

hand

means

the

world

bythetail.Putitaway,andletstalk.


24/31

Martyseyebrowscametogetherandhe

pushedhischinforwardalittle.Hisbrowneyes

werevaguelytroubled.

Westared

at

each

other.

Ididnt

look

at

thepointedblackslipperthatshowedunderthe

curtainsacrossthedoorwaytomyleft.

Marty was wearing a dark blue suit, a

blueshirtandablacktie.Hisbrownfacelooked

somberabovethedarkcolors.Hesaidsoftly,in

alingeringvoice:

Dont get me wrong. Im not a tough

guyjustcareful.

Idont

know

hells

first

thing

about you. You might be a lifetaker for all I

know.

Yourenotcarefulenough,Isaid.The

playwiththebookswaslousy

He drew a long breath and let it out

silently. Then he leaned back and crossed his

longlegsandrestedtheColtonhisknee.

Dont kid yourself Iwontuse this, if I

haveto.Whatsjourstory?

Tellyour friendwiththepointedshoes

to come on in, I said. She gets tired holding

herbreath.

Without turning his head Marty called

out:

Comeonin,Agnes.

Thecurtainsover thedoor swungaside

andthegreeneyedblondefromSteinersstore

joined us in the room. I wasnt very much

surprised to see her there. She looked at me

bitterly.

I knew damnwell youwere trouble,

she

told

me

angrily.

I

told

Joe

to

watch

his

step.

Save it, Marty snapped. Joes

watchinhisstepplenty.Putsome lightonso I

can see to pop this guy, if it works out that

way.

Theblonde lita large floor lampwitha

square red shade. She sat down under it, in a

bigvelourschairandhelda fixedpainfulsmile

on her face. She was scared to the point of

exhaustion.

I remembered the cigar I was holding

andput it inmymouth.MartysColtwasvery

steadyonmewhileIgotmatchesoutandlitit.

I puffed smoke and said through the

smoke:ThesuckerlistIspokeofisincode.SoI

cantreadthenamesyet,buttheresaboutfive

hundred of them. You got twelve boxes of

books,saythreehundred.Therellbethatmany

moreouton loan.Say fivehundredaltogether,

just tobeconservative. If itsagoodactive list

andyoucouldrun itaroundall thebooks, that

wouldbeaquarterofamillionrentals.Putthe

averagerental

lowsay

adollar.

Thats

too

low,

but say a dollar. Thats a lot of money these

days.Enoughtospotaguyfor.

The blonde yelped sharply: Youre

crazy,ifyou

Shutup!Martysworeather.

The blonde subsided and put her head

backagainst

the

back

of

her

chair.

Her

face

was

torturedwithstrain.

Its no racket for bums, I went on

tellingthem.Youvegottogetconfidenceand

keep it.Personally I think theblackmail angles

areamistake.Imforsheddingallthat.

Martysdarkbrownstareheldcoldlyon

my face. Youre a funny guy, he drawled

smoothly.

Whos

got

this

lovely

racket?


25/31

Youhave,Isaid.Almost.

Martydidntsayanything.

YoushotSteinertoget it, Isaid.Last

nightin

the

rain.

It

was

good

shooting

weather.

The trouble is, he wasnt alone when it

happened.Eitheryoudidntseethat,oryougot

scared.Youranout.Butyouhadnerveenough

tocomebackandhide thebodysomewhere

so you could tidy up on the books before the

casebroke.

The blonde made one strangled sound

andthenturnedherfaceandstaredatthewall.

Hersilvered

fingernails

dug

into

her

palms.

Her

teethbitherliptightly.

Martydidntbataneye.Hedidntmove

andtheColtdidntmoveinhishand.Hisbrown

facewasashardasapieceofcarvedwood.

Boy, you take chances,he said softly,

at last.Its luckyasallhell foryou Ididntkill

Steiner.

I grinned at him, without much cheer.

Youmightstepoffforitjustthesame,Isaid.

Martysvoicewasadryrustleofsound.

Thinkyouvegotmeframedforit?

Positive.

Howcome?

Theres somebody wholl tell it that

way.

Martysworethen.Thatdamned little

!Shewouldjustthatdamnher!

Ididntsayanything.Ilethimchewonit.

His face cleared slowly, and he put the Colt

downonthetable,kepthishandnearit.

You dont sound like chisel as I know

chisel, he said slowly, his eyes a tight shine

between dark narrowed lids. And I dont see

anycoppershere.Whatsyourangle?

Idrew

on

my

cigar

and

watched

his

gun

hand. Theplate thatwas in Steiners camera.

All theprints thathavebeenmade.Righthere

andrightnow.Youvegotitbecausethatsthe

onlywayyoucouldhaveknownwhowasthere

lastnight.

Martyturnedhisheadslightlytolookat

Agnes. Her face was still to the wall and her

fingernailswerestillspearingherpalms.Marty

lookedback

at

me.

Yourecoldasanightwatchmans feet

onthatone,guy,hetoldme.

I shook my head. No. Youre a sap to

stall,Marty.Youcanbepeggedforthekilleasy.

Itsanatural.Ifthegirlhastotellherstory,the

pictureswontmatter.Butshedontwanttotell

it.

Youashamus?heasked.

Yeah.

Howdyougettome?

I was working on Steiner. Hes been

workin on Dravec. Dravec leaks money. You

had some of it. I tailed the books here from

Steinersstore.

The

rest

was

easy

when

Ihad

thegirlsstory.

ShesayIgunnedSteiner?

Inodded.Butshecouldbemistaken.

Marty sighed. She hates my guts, he

said.Igaveherthegate.Igotpaidtodoit,but

Id have done it anyway. Shes too screwy for

me.


26/31

Isaid:Getthepictures,Marty

Hestoodupslowly, lookeddownatthe

Colt,put it inhis sidepocket.Hishandmoved

slowlyuptohisbreastpocket.

Somebody rang the door buzzer and

keptonringingit.

XIMarty didnt like that. His lower lip went in

under

his

teeth

and

his

eyebrows

drew

down

at

thecorners.Hiswholefacegotmean.

Thebuzzerkeptonbuzzing.

The blonde stood up quickly. Nerve

tensionmadeherfaceoldandugly.

Watching me, Marty jerked a small

drawer open in the tall desk and got a small,

whitehandled automatic out of it. He held it

outtotheblonde.Shewenttohimandtook it

gingerly,notlikingit.

Sit down next to the shamus, he

rasped.Holdthegunonhim. Ifhegetsfunny,

feedhimafew.

Theblonde satdownon thedavenport

about three feet from me, on the side away

from thedoor. She lined the gun onmy leg. I

didntlike

the

jerky

look

in

her

green

eyes.

Thedoorbuzzerstoppedandsomebody

startedaquick, light, impatient rappingon the

panel.Martywentacrossandopenedthedoor.

He slidhis righthand intohis coatpocketand

opened the door with his left hand, threw it

openquickly.

Carmen Dravec pushed him back into

theroom

with

the

muzzle

of

asmall

revolver

againsthisbrownface.

Martybackedaway fromher smoothly,

lightly.Hismouthwasopenandanexpression

of panic was on his face. He knew Carmen

prettywell.

Carmenshutthedoor,thenboredahead

withherlittlegun.Shedidntlookatanyonebut

Marty,didnt seem to seeanythingbutMarty.

Herfacehadadopeylook.

The blonde shivered the full length of

her body and swung the whitehandled

automatic up and towards Carmen. I shot my

hand out and grabbed her hand, closed my

fingersdown

over

it

quickly,

thumbed

the

safety

totheonposition,andheld itthere.Therewas

ashorttussle,whichneitherMartynorCarmen

paidanyattentionto.ThenIhadthegun.

Theblondebreatheddeeplyand stared

atCarmenDravec.CarmenlookedatMartywith

dopedeyesandsaid:

Iwantmypictures.

Marty swallowed and tried to smile at

her.He said: Sure, kid, sure, in a small, flat

voice thatwasnt like thevoicehehadused in

talkingtome.

Carmen looked almost as crazy as she

had looked in Steiners chair. But she had

controlofhervoiceandmuscles thistime.She

said:

YoushotHalSteiner.

Waitaminute,Carmen!Iyelped.

Carmendidntturnherhead.Theblonde

cametolifewitharush,duckedherheadatme

as if she was going to butt me, and sank her

teethinmyrighthand,theonethathadhergun

init.


27/31

I yelped some more. Nobody minded

thateither.

Martysaid:Listen,kid,Ididnt

Theblonde

took

her

teeth

out

of

my

handand spatmyownbloodatme.Then she

threwherselfatmy legandtriedtobitethat. I

crackedher lightlyon theheadwith thebarrel

of the gun and tried to stand up. She rolled

downmylegsandwrappedherarmsaroundmy

ankles. I fellbackon thedavenportagain.The

blondewasstrongwiththemadnessoffear.

MartygrabbedforCarmensgunwithhis

lefthand,

missed.

The

little

revolver

made

a

dull, heavy sound that was not loud. A bullet

missed Marty and broke glass in one of the

foldedbackFrenchwindows.

Marty stood perfectly still again. He

looked as if all his muscles had gone back on

him.

Duck and knock her off her feet, you

damnfool!

Iyelled

at

him.

Then Ihit theblondeonthesideof the

headagain,muchharder,andsherolledoffmy

feet.Igotlooseandslidawayfromher.

MartyandCarmenwerestillfacingeach

otherlikeacoupleofimages.

Something very largeandheavyhit the

outsideof

the

door

and

the

panel

split

diagonallyfromtoptobottom.

ThatbroughtMartytolife.Hejerkedthe

Colt out of his pocket and jumped back. I

snappedashotathisrightshoulderandmissed,

notwantingtohurthimmuch.Theheavything

hit thedooragainwithacrash thatseemed to

shakethewholebuilding.

I dropped the little automatic and got

myowngun looseasDravec came inwith the

smasheddoor.

Hewaswildeyed,ragingdrunk,beserk.

Hisbig

arms

were

flailing.

His

eyes

were

glaring

andbloodshotandtherewasfrothonhislips.

Hehitme veryhardon the sideof the

headwithouteven lookingatme. I fellagainst

thewall,betweentheendofthedavenportand

thebrokendoor.

Iwasshakingmyheadandtryingtoget

levelagainwhenMartybegantoshoot.

Something lifted Dravecs coat away

fromhisbodybehind,asifaslughadgoneclean

through him. He stumbled, straightened

immediately,chargedlikeabull.

I linedmy gun and shotMarty through

thebody.Itshookhim,buttheColt inhishand

continued to leap and roar. Then Dravec was

betweenusandCarmenwasknockedoutofthe

waylike

adead

leaf

and

there

was

nothing

morethatanybodycoulddoaboutit.

Martys bullets couldnt stop Dravec.

Nothing could. Ifhehadbeendead,hewould

stillhavegotMarty.

HegothimbythethroatasMartythrew

hisemptyguninthebigmansface.Itbounced

off like a rubber ball.Marty yelled shrilly, and

Dravectook

him

by

the

throat

and

lifted

him

cleanoffhisfeet.

For an instant Martys brown hands

fought for a hold on the big mans wrists.

Something cracked sharply, andMartys hands

fell away limply. There was another, duller

crack.JustbeforeDravecletgoofMartysneckI

sawthatMartysfacewasapurpleblackcolor.I

remembered,almostcasually, thatmenwhose

necks

are

broken

sometimes

swallow

their

tonguesbeforetheydie.


28/31

ThenMarty felldown in thecornerand

Dravec started to back away from him. He

backedlikeamanlosinghisbalance,notableto

keep his feet under his center of gravity. He

tookfour

clumsy

backward

steps

like

that.

Then

hisbigbody tippedoverbackwardsandhe fell

onhisbackonthefloorwithhisarmsflungout

wide.

Blood came out of hismouth.His eyes

strainedupwardasiftoseethroughafog.

Carmen Dravec went down beside him

andbegantowaillikeafrightenedanimal.

Therewasnoiseoutside in thehall,but

nobody showed at the open door. Too much

casualleadhadbeenflippedaround.

IwentquicklyovertoMartyand leaned

over him and got my hand into his breast

pocket. Igotouta thick, squareenvelope that

hadsomethingstiffandhardinit.Istraightened

upwithitandturned,

Faroffthewailofasirensoundedfaintly

ontheeveningair,seemedtobegettinglouder.

A whitefaced man peeped cautiously in

through the doorway. I knelt down beside

Dravec.

Hetriedtosaysomething,butIcouldnt

hearthewords.Thenthestrainedlookwentout

ofhiseyesandtheywerealoofandindifferent,

likethe

eyes

of

aman

looking

at

something

alongwayoff,acrossawideplain.

Carmensaid stonily:Hewasdrunk.He

made me tell him where I was going. I didnt

knowhefollowedme.

Youwouldnt,Isaidemptily.

Istoodupagainandbroketheenvelope

open.

There

were

a

few

prints

in

it

and

a

glass

negative. Idropped theplateon the floor and

groundittopieceswithmyheel.Ibegantotear

uptheprintsandletthepiecesflutterdownout

ofmyhands.

Theyll print plenty of photos of you

now,girlie,

Isaid.

But

they

wont

print

this

one.

Ididntknowhewasfollowingme,she

saidagain,andbegantochewonherthumb.

The sirenwas loudoutside thebuilding

now. It died to a penetrating drone and then

stopped altogether, just about the time I

finishedtearinguptheprints.

I stood still in the middle of the room

andwonderedwhy I had taken the trouble. It

didntmatteranymorenow.

XIILeaninghiselbowontheendofthebigwalnut

table in Inspector Ishamsoffice,andholdinga

burning cigarette idlybetweenhis fingers,Guy

Sladesaid,withoutlookingatme:

Thanks for putting me on the pan,

shamus. I like to see theboysatHeadquarters

once inawhile.Hecrinkledthecornersofhis

eyesinanunpleasantsmile.

Iwassittingatthelongsideofthetable

acrossfrom

Isham.

Isham

was

lanky

and

grey

andwore noseglasses.He didnt look, act, or

talk copper. Violets MGee and a merryeyed

Irish dick named Grinnell were in a couple of

roundbacked chairs against a glasstopped

partitionwallthatcutpartoftheofficeoff into

areceptionroom.

IsaidtoSlade:Ifiguredyoufoundthat

blooda littletoosoon.IguessIwaswrong.My

apologies,Mister

Slade.


29/31

Yeah. That makes it just like it never

happened.Hestoodup,pickedamalaccacane

and one glove off the table. That all for me,

Inspector?

Thatsall

tonight,

Slade.

Ishams

voice

wasdry,cool,sardonic.

Sladecaught thecrookofhiscaneover

his wrist to open the door. He smiled around

before he strolled out. The last thing his eyes

rested on was probably the back of my neck,

butIwasntlookingathim.

Ishamsaid:Idonthavetotellyouhow

apolice

department

looks

at

that

kind

of

a

coveruponamurder.

I sighed.Gunfire, I said.Adeadman

on the floor.Anaked,dopedgirl inachairnot

knowingwhathadhappened.Akiller Icouldnt

have caught and you couldnt have caught

then.Behindall thisapooroldroughneck that

was breaking his heart trying to do the right

thing in a miserable spot. Go aheadstick it

intome.

Im

not

sorry.

Ishamwavedallthataside.Whodidkill

Steiner?

Theblondegirlwilltellyou.

Iwantyoutotellme.

I shrugged. If youwantme to guess

Dravecsdriver,

Carl

Owen.

Isham didnt look too surprised.Violets

MGeegruntedloudly.

What makes you think so? Isham

asked.

Ithoughtforawhile itcouldbeMarty,

partlybecausethegirlsaidso.Butthatdoesnt

mean

anything.

She

didnt

know,

and

jumped

at

thechancetostickaknifeintoMarty.Andshes

a type that doesnt let loose of an idea very

easily.ButMarty didnt act like a killer.And a

man as cool as Marty wouldnt have run out

that way. I hadnt even banged on the door

whenthekillerstartedtoscram.

Of course I thought of Slade, too. But

Sladesnotquitethetypeeither.Hepackstwo

gunmen around with him, and theyd have

made some kind of a fight of it. And Slade

seemedgenuinelysurprisedwhenhefoundthe

bloodon the floor thisafternoon.Sladewas in

with Steiner and keeping tabs on him, but he

didnt kil

Chandler_Killer in the Rain988_1018

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