by Jerry eBooks
“I didn’t kill Renzelli!” Vince screeched. He started to leap away from the bed, but the muzzle of Elrick’s gun was like a rivet, and it cast frigidity upon him. He gulped and he was trying hard to pull himself together.
“Believe me, Elrick, I don’t know anything about this,” he said. “I’ll admit I got tough with Renzelli that night. I told him to leave town. And he did. Since then I haven’t seen him.”
Something was happening to Gladys. Her eyes were wide. Her lips were drawn tightly. Slowly turning her head, she looked at Vince.
“Maybe the cop is right,” she said. “Maybe you did kill Jimmie!”
“What are you saying?” Vince mumbled. He was stupefied.
A dim, almost idiotic smile floated across Gladys’ lips.
“Sure, it checks,” she said. “You killed him because you knew he was coming back for me. You knew I’d go to him. You knew that all this time I’ve been carrying a torch for him, filling myself with gin, chaining myself to this rattrap of a room, trying to forget about him. And you, with your dough, with your sharp clothes, you thought you could take his place. But you couldn’t, Vince. No man could. No man ever will.”
Vince looked at Elrick. “Don’t listen to her. She’s rotted with gin. She’s talkin’ in a daze.”
“Let her talk,” Elrick said.
“Sure, let me talk,” Gladys said. “It does me good to talk now.” The smile that she fastened on Vince was eerie, and she went on, “I never knew what happened on that New Year’s Eve. I never knew the real reason why Jimmie left town. You told me it was for business reasons. You were moving in on his gambling territory, and you told him to shove, and he was yellow, and he shoved. That’s what you told me. That’s what I believed. But somehow—somehow, Vince, it was in the cards for Jimmie to come back to me. And you were waiting for that day. You and Lou—waiting for him! You killed him, Vince! You killed the only thing that ever mattered to me!”
Forgetting about Elrick’s pistol, she aimed fingernails at Vince’s throat. The heavy-set guy fell back. He let out a yell of fear, fell from the bed, and then he rolled over. And he collided with Elrick, who was trying to show Gladys the muzzle of the pistol.
Elrick went back against the wall as he saw Gladys lunging at Vince. Again her fingernails were in action. The cop let out a curse and then he was wondering what to say and he grabbed at the standby phrase of all tough-neighborhood policemen.
“Break it up!” he yelled.
But Gladys was insane now. She did not see the pistol that was pointed at her. She did not care. And her only thought, her only desire was to fasten her fingernails in the jugular vein of Vince Mazzione.
“Stop her!” Vince screeched.
It looked bad for Vince. The cop realized that he would not be able to do much with the pistol. Already Gladys had her fingernails in the throat of the heavy-set guy, and she was ripping, and the blood was dribbling over his collar and tie.
Elrick dropped the pistol. He clamped a hold on Gladys’ arm, twisted hard and pulled back. Gladys let out a shriek and tried to jab an elbow into Elrick’s middle. The cop told himself that it was too bad he had to be so rough with a woman, and he twisted the arm again. Gladys let out another shriek and she was cursing and kicking and squirming and Elrick placed a hold on her other arm. He dragged her away from Vince.
“Now calm down,” he said.
“Yeah,” Vince said, holding a handkerchief to his throat. “That’s good advice.”
Quickly he bent down, brought the pistol up and pointed it.
“You stay here with her, copper! Just stay here and talk to her for a while.”
ELRICK called himself a few hundred fancy names.
“Where do you think you’re going, Vince?” he asked.
“I’m running to the drug store for an ice cream soda,” Vince said. “Then I’m leaving town. Maybe South America. Maybe Canada. You can guess at it.”
“You’re not smart, Vince. You’ll be picked up in no time.”
“Let me go, copper!” Gladys yelled. “Let me go! I don’t care if he shoots me! At least I’ll get in his way—you’ll be able to grab him!”
“You wouldn’t do a thing like that, would you, copper?” Vince said.
He was near the door. There was a smile on his face and there was something sad about it.
“I’ll be sayin’ good-by, Gladys,” Vince said. “I don’t want to leave you, baby, but I don’t have any choice now. Maybe some day you’ll find that you made a mistake. If I had the time, if I had the breaks, I’d prove it to you now. But the way things are lined up, the only thing for me to do is to powder—but fast!”
And he made an exit.
Gladys writhed in Elrick’s grasp. “Go after him!”
“Sister, he’s not carrying a water pistol,” the cop said.
“You can’t let him get away!”
“Listen,” Elrick said. “I feel worse about this than you do. If Vince makes good on the scram, I not only lose my chance for a plainclothes job, but I’ll probably get kicked off the Force in the bargain.” He sighed. “Anyway, it’s better than getting a few bullets in my lung. Come on, let’s ride down to Headquarters and give Reeve and the other smart guys a big laugh.” . . .
In the outer office of Headquarters there was unusual quiet. It thickened as Elrick and the girl came in. The detectives and the reporters and the cops were staring and Elrick was waiting for someone to say something.
Nothing was said.
Elrick gazed around the room, looking for Reeve. The plainclothes man was not around. “Where is he?” Elrick asked another cop.
“In there.” The cop flicked a thumb toward a door. “Questioning somebody.”
“On what?”
“On the Renzelli case.”
Elrick took a deep breath. “Witness or suspect?”
“Neither. The guy came in and gave himself up.”
Elrick’s eyes bulged and an elated smile formed on his lips.
“You mean he came in here and said he killed Renzelli?”
“That’s what I mean,” the other cop said.
“Then it’s okay!” Elrick yelled. “Everything’s okay!”
“What’s okay?” the other cop said dully.
“Listen, I cracked this case. I did it alone. Nobody helped. I went out and put the pieces together and I nabbed the murderer. Even if he did get away, it stands to reason that I found him out. So he came back. He gave himself up. Reeve can’t take credit for that. And he won’t, no matter how hard he tries. Don’t you think I’m gonna let myself get pushed around!”
“Elrick, I’m thinking that you must have bumped your head some place and it’s affected you,” the other cop said, eyes and voice still dull. “Maybe you better go in there and find out a few things.”
Elrick grabbed at the door handle. He dashed into the small room. He saw a few detectives. He saw a few cops. He saw Reeve. And then he was looking at someone who was sitting in a chair beneath a droplight.
It was Herbie.
The newsboy was relaxed and he was calm. He smiled at Elrick, and then he looked up at Reeve.
“So like I was telling you, I always hated Renzelli,” Herbie said. “I always remembered how he used to bully me, when we were kids. But more than just hating him as an individual, I despised the things he represented. Two years ago I planned to murder him. But just about that time he left town. I don’t know why. It couldn’t have been because he was afraid of me. I never told a soul what I intended to do. Anyway, after Renzelli left, I promised myself that if he ever came back, I would kill him because he and creatures of his type are leeches, sucking the blood of society. An artist like myself is forced to sell newspapers on a corner, while the Renzellis live like princes!”
“All right,” Reeve cut in. “So Renzelli came back to town. Then what?”
Herbie shrugged. “I had a gun. I’d been saving it for the happy moment. Last night I used it.”
“And today,” Re
eve said, “you were on the corner as usual, chewing the rag with your old pal Elrick. ‘Is that right?”
“That’s right,” Herbie said, and he smiled contentedly.
One of the dicks said: “Bughouse.” Reeve nodded.
ELRICK told himself that if he stayed in this room a minute longer he’d go crazy, too. He opened the door and walked out. He walked through the quiet outer office and he stopped before Gladys.
“You’ll be seeing Vince in a day or so,” he said. “He probably reads the papers. A certain headline will bring him back to town. And since he’s been true blue all this time, trying to help you snap out of it, he’ll come back to you again. And when he does, give him a big hello. Vince ain’t an angel, but he’s better stuff than Renzelli was. And maybe when he sees you back on your feet, smiling again, singing again, he’ll stay on the straight line.”
“Are you telling me that Vince didn’t do it?”
“That’s the idea. And if you’re gonna start bawling and calling yourself names, do it at home. I’ve had enough aggravation for one day.”
Elrick watched her as she walked across the room, as she walked out through the big doorway, above which the symbol of Justice was carved in lines that somehow were as gentle as they were stern.
Then he turned and looked at the other door and winced slightly as he thought of the needling he would soon take from Reeve and the other smart guys. As he thought of the plainclothes job, flitting away like a mocking moth. As he thought of his lonely beat, and the stifling afternoons, with summer sun jumping up from a broiling pavement and hitting him in the face.
And no Herbie to talk to.
BABY, COME TO COPPER!
Gene Fraiser
Dave Hendley’s girlfriend didn’t seem to care when he got a hot-seat sentence. But the G. I. stranger who knew Dave’s brother figured an “automatic” way to change that babe’s point of view.
THE stench from the garbage swept in from the bay and crowded down over the dark, narrow streets. It moved in with the fog and hit at the doors and windows of the ghostlike tenements.
The blues song coming from the juke box in Tulio’s Bar and Grill was drowned out by the almost constant moan from the foghorns.
A lone man, with felt hat pulled low, carrying a small suitcase, came slowly up the street. He stopped for a moment, eyeing the broken sign that squeaked in front of the few steps that led into the bar. A thin smile flicked quickly over the seemingly frozen jaw. Then he moved on, finally stopping in front of the last brownstone house on the street.
A small yellow light illuminated the tattered cardboard plaque: Furnished Room. The man’s right hand went tight against the handle of the suitcase. He hesitated an instant, then mounted the steps leading up to the front door.
Footsteps rose slowly from the bowels of the old house. He shifted on his feet as he waited, his fingers digging deep into the handle.
A sunken, heavily lined face peeked around the edge of the door. Fear shuddered in the red-rimmed eyes of the old lady.
“Dave Hendley live here?” the man asked.
The woman’s face seemed to shrink and a twitch seized her left cheek. “No, he don’t,” she said in a voice that seemed to have gone through the catacombs of many ages. She tried to push the door shut, but he stuck a foot into the crack.
“Aren’t you Bedoni? Mary Bedoni?” he asked in a soft voice.
Her eyes squinted as she tried to get a good glimpse of the shadowed face.
“My name’s Taylor. Peter Taylor. I’m trying to find Dave for his brother, Mike.”
“Mike’s dead,” she said, her voice cold, still peering up at his face.
“Yes,” the man said softly. “But we were in the same outfit. He often spoke to me about you, about Dave. He also told me about Elise and about her brother Joe.”
Mrs. Bedoni seemed undecided for a moment. She looked at the man’s black shoes, at his rain slicker, the small suitcase and the wide-brimmed hat. “Come in,” she finally said, pulling the door open.
She flicked on a small ceiling light. The dust was heavy in the hallway. There were thick cracks in the dun wallpaper. The house was a projection of the woman.
She leaned back against the banister and watched him closely. “Don’t you know what happened to Dave Hendley?” The fear had now gone from her eyes. She thrust her long chin forward as she spoke her cold words. “He killed a man. He killed a man in this house. And in two weeks he will be killed also. He’s in jail and he’s going to be killed there.” Her eyes seemed to sparkle as she spoke, and her fingers closed with the enthusiasm of her words.
Taylor pushed the hat back on his head. He rubbed his palms together slowly. “Mike was always afraid of that. Although they had a fight just before Mike left for the Army, he always had Dave on his mind. He was always worrying about him.”
“He don’t have to worry no more,” the old woman cracked and her bloodless lips parted in a swift smile. Again her eyes went to his face. “Why’d you want to see him?”
“I had a message for him. A message from Mike.” He settled the suitcase on the bare floor and rubbed a big hand against the back of his neck. “Guess I came too late, huh?”
Mrs. Bedoni pushed herself from the banister with a bony arm. She reached out to open the door again.
“See you have a spare room, Mrs. Bedoni,” the man said slowly. He pulled the hat from his head. “How about letting me have it? I still have some business in this town. I might as well stay here.”
She rubbed a hand against her faded skirt and seemed to be trying to peer through the small suitcase.
He put a hand to his hip pocket. “I have money.”
“It’ll be eight dollars.” Her chin thrust out and she spat her words out crisply. “You got to pay two weeks in advance.”
He reached into his pocket. “It’s a deal.”
THE single window of the two-by-four ream looked out toward the bay. “This was Dave’s room. You can tell your message to the room,” the old woman had said and then had gone cackling down the steps.
He stood for a moment next to the window. Through the thick fog he could make out the faint glow of the lights of a ship. The wail of a horn went through the room.
He washed himself with the water coming from the slow trickling faucet in the corner next to the dresser. He was just starting to open the suitcase when there was a knock on the door.
His long feet covered the room in two steps. “Yeah?”
“I got the sheets for the bed.” It was a young girl’s voice.
He pulled the door open. She didn’t come higher than his shoulders. Her blond hair fell softly against the smooth line of her neck. There was a seeming haughtiness to her light blue eyes as they ran over the length of him. Her full lips were slightly parted and seemed forever pouting, forever waiting for the next kiss.
Her voice became light as soon as she saw him. “You wouldn’t want to sleep without a sheet, would you?” An eyebrow arched as she swept into the room, holding the linen against her full bosom. She glanced over her shoulder full into his face. She liked what she saw and flashed her teeth.
He stood against the door and watched her tuck the ends of the sheet under the mattress. “Looks as if General Washington slept in that bed,” he said.
She looked at him again and smiled, one hand smoothing out the sheet.
“You’re Elise, aren’t you?” He watched her closely.
Her face dropped. She quickly dropped the quilt to the bed.
“You’re Dave’s girl?”
“I was,” she said sharply, her face now drained of all expression.
“He hasn’t been electrocuted yet,” he said, pulling out a pack of cigarettes.
She gave the pillow a last pat. “He will be,” she said.
Taylor held the pack to the girl. “You don’t seem too broken up about it.”
She leaned forward to receive the light. The smoke curled up in front of her eyes and she flicked her long lashes. �
��It won’t do no good to cry. Dave had a bad temper and he killed a man. Nothing I did could help him.”
“Who did he kill?” asked Taylor. His eyes were down on the glowing end of his cigarette.
Elise sat back on the bed and again examined this tall man who stood next to the door, asking these questions, his face strangely immobile. He reminded her somehow of another tall man she had once known. “Guess there’s no reason I can’t tell you about it,” she finally said, parting her lips slightly and narrowing her eyes. She flicked away some ash and it fell against her bare legs.
“There was another guy who roomed here. In the room next to this. His name was Homer Williams. He was a real wolf. He didn’t mean no real harm, but he was a wolf. Dave was awfully jealous.” She sighed and rose from the bed. She stepped close to the tall man. Her finger pressed gently against his shirt.
The soft smell of her hair seared at his nostrils. She continued talking. “He wouldn’t listen to anything when he found me in Homer’s room. He just went and killed Homer with a gun.”
Taylor’s arm went around her waist. Her eyes danced and she pulled quickly away. He wanted to come after her. He wanted to see how those impudent lips tasted. “That means you have no boy friend now.”
“You’re clever.”
“How about joining me in a drink at that bar in twenty minutes,” he asked.
“You’re a big-time operator, huh?” she said, one hand on the knob. Then she shrugged. “I got nothing else to do.”
He emptied the suitcase as soon as she left the room. He put the small .22 Colt automatic into his jacket pocket, grabbed up his rain slicker and quietly left the room.
The fog had gotten thicker. Once upon the narrow path that led from the back of the house he was more sure of himself. He heard the low rumble of a crane working away over a freighter. The foghorns were now booming loudly. He felt his way slowly, his feet sinking slightly into the wet ground. Then he saw the pole. He crouched his head slightly until he came to the wood planking of the pier.
He stopped and listened. He could hear the water lapping at the piles. He moved forward again.