by Ed Lacy
As I talked I kept swinging the sap through the air. The backs of their necks turned a flush-red, then went pale.
“Little lecture because I want you to think about all that soft spongy brain matter being rocked like this...” I socked the gunman again—lightly. “Think of it, that's two bruises your brain's had in the last five minutes. Another one and you may be blind or...”
“Cut it out!” he said, his voice a hoarse scream. “Told you this is only a job to us.”
“Honest!” the other goon whispered.
I tried to laugh. “Sure, just a good day's work!”
“We're getting a grand, must be a big deal,” the gunman said. “But it isn't the dough. Like I told you, we was hired in Philly and you was fingered to us this afternoon on the street and...
“By whom?”
“A guy called Gus. He come in from Atlantic City yesterday. We was to look around your joint for a bundle of folding money. We drive along Hudson Street for an hour till we see a Dodge sedan with a busted right headlight, give Gus what we had, get paid off.”
“Mac, that's the God's honest truth!” the other guy said. I cracked him on his balding dome. He fell over, then sat up again. I told him to grab his toes and he did, moaning. The whole mess was starting to get me a little sick.
“What kind of a story you dummies handing me? If you found the bundle, what's to stop you from crossing this Gus and...?”
“It would mean dying.” the gunman cut in. “Told you we're dealing with big stuff.”
“With Big Ed Franklin?”
“We wasn't given no names. We didn't ask for none.”
“This bundle—how much dough is it?”
“Didn't say,” the other joker chimed in. “We was to get that hunk of stone you had, then look around your office— and your wallet—for any hundred buck bills we could find.”
I was still whipping the sap about and his voice shook with every swish. He finally gulped, said, “Mac, that's the ticket, all we know.”
“When did you hit New York?”
“About noon this afternoon,” the gunman said.
“How about one in the morning, where you beat a girl to death on an East River dock!”
“You mean that one they got in the papers?” the second hood asked.
I slapped him with the blackjack and he fell on his side, shouted up at me, “What you want, us to make up a story to sell you? Like you said... don't want to get my brains... scrambled... we're leveling with you.”
“Catch your toes,” I said, pointing with the sap. “What's with this rock?”
“Beats the hell out of me,” the gunman said. “Looks like ordinary hunk of crummy stone to me. But I don't ask questions. Can I let go of my toes? My stomach and back are killing me.”
“Certainly,” I said. As he took his hands off his shoes I swatted him lightly. “But you get this.” He grabbed his toes again—but fast.
I didn't know what to think: I not only was on a merry-go-round but as Bobo said, I had a tiger by the tail and didn't know what to do with it. If Saltz found out I was holding out on him, the least he'd do would be revoke my license. I said, “Okay, get up—slowly—and keep your hands in the open. The three of us will meet this Gus in the busted Dodge.”
The gunman shook his head. “Buddy, you don't get the set-up. We ain't just a couple of hoods, we're big operators in Philly. We took this job because we had to... it was that important. They've imported guys from all around the East Coast. I'll lay you odds there's somebody watching us and...”
“Who's the 'they'?” I asked.
“You can kill me and I can't tell you because I don't know. We take orders, that's all.”
I don't know why, but I believed them, they were just a couple of errand boys. I was confused, weary, and tired of beating them, sick of all this crazy violence I'd been through. Only an idiot gets a bang out of smacking anybody. I saw a stamp-pad on my desk. “One at a time, go over and open that pad—leave your fingerprints on those papers next to it.”
“What's the idea?”
“Your calling cards—in case I want to look you up sometime in the future. Then you can beat it.”
“Beat it?” the gunmen repeated, relief and astonishment all over their bloody faces.
“No sense in licking a dead horse. We'll leave together, in case you have any pals waiting outside. Come on, make with the prints.”
From the way they left their prints, I knew they'd been printed before. I herded them out of the office, down the steps. The street looked deserted. I said, “Start walking toward Third Avenue and don't look back.”
They almost ran down the empty street. I jumped into my car and drove off. I still had the keys to their car, where-ever it was. Tomorrow I could trace it, but it would probably be a stolen job. At the moment I had only one thing on my mind—a talk with Willie Johnson, the lover-mailman.
13
It was almost two when I climbed the five flights to the Johnson apartment. Thelma was in the same housecoat I first saw her in and her eyes looked bad—red.
She squeezed my arm. “Oh Mr. Darling, you don't know how glad I am to see you. I'm simply a nervous wreck! Will kissing that woman before... millions and now.... Why in all the years we've been married I never...”
I sat down on the living-room couch, tried to think. Her chatter seemed to snow me under. Finally I cut her off with, “Mrs. Johnson—Thelma—I'm beat, tired, on edge. Got a drink around?”
“Why... yes. My, you do look... your poor face is a little puffy. Your nose—”
I dug out the wadded toilet paper from my nostrils. She gave out a mild scream and I said, “Only paper and blood. Where's the bottle of courage?”
“My... something happen to you?”
“Everything
has happened to me! You going to yak-yak me to death or get me a drink?”
She returned with a full bottle of Canadian whisky, sat on the couch beside me. I poured myself a good hooker, drank it, then poured one for her.
“Oh, Darling... that's such an odd name...”
“Skip it. Call me Hal.”
“I really don't drink, Hal. The doctor told me...”
“Take it, relax you. And for Christsakes, shut up.”
“Well!” She gave me a fish-eyed stare for a moment, gulped her drink down, turned pink as she sputtered, “I never heard such rudeness!”
“What do you know about that rock? The truth, not that crock of crap you and Will gave me.”
She began to whimper. “I don't know anything. Oh what's... happening... you insulting me and Will....” Thelma poured herself another stiff drink, took it down like a veteran lush. “Always been a good wife to Will and now....”
I shut my eyes, tried to think. The hoods had mentioned hundred-buck bills. Could be they had me mixed up with somebody passing the queer, a ring of...
“How could he do this to me? Another woman!” Thelma's whimper began to take on an hysterical note. That would be the finishing touch—all I needed! I told her, “Stop moaning. Will is with one of the sexiest women in the world and if he... hell if he gets the chance to lay her, you can't blame him.”
“How can you say that? Blame him! I'll break his head for him!” she said loudly, her whisky beginning to talk.
“Well, let's chatter about it some other time, I...”
“I can't understand how Will could...”
“Thelma, your Will is probably a good faithful guy but... there's always a point where any man can be tempted, and Margrita is that point. Doesn't mean he doesn't still love you but.... How long have you been married?”
“Nineteen years. Nineteen lovely.... Oh, Will!” Fat tears started down her face.
“Like everything else, a marriage can get stale, married people get used to each other; the excitement of sex wears thin and... Look at yourself, Thelma, and at Will, you're both sloppy and...”
She really turned on the tears. I quickly poured her another shot, which she gu
lped down, held her head in her hands and started to bawl.
My nerves were so raw the sound of her crying gave me a grating chill. I took a fast shot myself, had to do something to stop her tears. I put my arms around her, placed her head on my shoulder. “Thelma, forget Will. After all, you're a pretty woman, warm and exciting.”
“You're being nice... Hal. I used to be sort of good-looking. Now I'm too plump.”
“Nuts, you're beautiful. Not pretty the way a hard-faced chorus girl is, but full of charm.”
“Mr.—Hal, you really think so?”
“You bet,” I said, not entirely lying. “Will takes you too much for granted. A clown like myself, who hasn't a wife, can appreciate a home, all you do to make a man happy. Only it's wrong for a woman to devote her whole life to a man, fall for that lord and master pitch. She must think of her own right to happiness....”
Thelma stopped crying, was listening to me, her hand warm and moist on top of mine. I slipped her a corny line of sweet talk and she was very quiet. Either my words or the three slugs of whisky she'd had, were working on her.
“... You see, you've let Will be the big I-am in your life, forgot your own right to happiness.” I suddenly kissed her on the mouth. Her lips were surprisingly alive and exciting.
For a moment she pulled away, then her arms tightened around my neck. I held her close with one arm, kissing her, as my other hand was probing inside her robe, sliding around her hot back to her bra. She whispered, “Hal, this is so crazy! We mustn't—”
“It isn't crazy if we both want to.”
“But... it's wrong to... Oh, Hal!”
My hand was caressing her great breasts, ringing the hard nipples. Her head fell back against the couch as she gently pushed my hand away, but her eyes were soft and willing.
For a moment my whole idea nearly backfired—for some reason her plumpness, the pillowy-bosom, got me on fire and I nearly went through with things—but sex was really the last thing on my mind. I mean, I had enough troubles without latching on to more. With an effort I stood up. “There, see what I mean, Thelma? I'm no Margrita, but I am somebody new and... you're willing. So don't blame Will. You've both been taking each other too much for granted, the star-dust has worn off, the...”
The door opened down the hall and a second later Will came in. He looked a little crocked. One of his eyes was shut and turning purple, he had a couple of skin-bruises on his face, and his uniform was dirty. Thelma jumped up and as she did so part of her white bra hung out of her robe, like a flag at half-mast.
“What the hell's going on here?” Will thundered.
“Nothing.”
“You—you've been with that woman!” Thelma wailed.
“You're a fine one to talk! I find you undressed and this shrimp...!”
I stepped over to his towering bulk, snapped, “Shut up! You and Thelma can straighten this out later. We got a lot of talking to do.”
“We sure have! I demand an...”
“Can the self-righteous slop.” I buried my right in his belly. He grunted, bent double as he slipped to the floor. Thelma ran over, knelt beside him, bawled, “You little thug! What are you doing to my Will?”
Trying to convince him the time for games is over. Yesterday you came into my office, handed me a cock-and-bull yarn about being 'curious' about a rock. I'm a peaceful guy, love the quiet, easy life... but since you've brought that rock to me, I've been punched and blackjacked, my office has become a shambles, my secretary has been murdered...”
Will stared up at me, his one good eye wide with fear. “That girl in the papers—thought I recognized her!”
“And she got it the hard way, beaten to death. Now stop the bunk and tell me the truth about this damn rock!”
“Will, tell him... tell him everything!” Thelma pleaded.
He got to his big feet, helped Thelma up, said in an offhand voice, “Fix yourself up, Thelma. Your... is loose.” He pointed to her bra. She gasped, ran out of the room.
“That little girl... dead,” Will whispered. “See, I never thought anything like that would come....”
“What about the rock?” I asked, shaking him.
“See, it was like I said, came through the window and all that. Only, when it hit the copper vase it split. Mean, what I gave you was only a sliver. The rock was about a half inch long, maybe a quarter of an inch thick. I kept the big piece, only now I ain't got it... they robbed me.”
“Who did?”
“Two big guys.” He lowered his voice to a whisper again. “See, I was up at this Margrita's apartment, had some drinks, she was... nice to me. Then suddenly she gets cold, gives me the gate. When I step outside, two guys jump me, knock me cold. When I came to, the rock is gone. Had it sewn in here.” He held up a torn part of his gray mailman's coat. “And it was worth ten grand. See, that's why I came to you, find out where it came from, if it was mine, if I could sell it and...”
“Take it slow. This little hunk of stone was worth ten grand?”
He nodded. “About a week after it hit this room, I got curious, took it to a jeweler on my route. He said he never saw one so big. Comes from Brazil, what they call a carbonado.”
“What the hell you talking about? What is a... carbonado?”
“It's a diamond, see?”
BOOK THREE
I
I sat or fell down on the nearest chair. Will sprawled on the couch, called out, “Thelma, bring some tea.” Then he saw the bottle, took a good hooker.
“Are you telling me a diamond...?”
“An industrial diamond, the jeweler called it.”
“... an industrial diamond worth ten thousand bucks came tearing into your living-room... just like that?” I asked.
“That's the truth, Hal.”
I ran over and grabbed him by the collar. “Stop handing me fairy tales! I want the truth, the...”
“I swear it!” Will gasped.
“Let him alone, what he said is the truth, all we know.” I turned and saw Thelma standing in the doorway. She sat down beside Will, opened his collar, stroked his face, said, “Tea is on, dear.” He buried his face in her hands, mumbled something, and began to sob.
I stood there, staring at the two of them with my mouth open. I knew they were telling me the truth, yet it didn't add up... made less sense than before.
“Look at your face, Will,” Thelma said, “how will you go to work tomorrow?”
“I'd better call up sick. I am sick, too, Thelma, a sick, frightened fool!”
“Aw, Will, you...”
I said, “Thelma, pack a bag—right now. Got any place in the country you two can go for a few days?”
“My sister has a cottage in Lakewood.”
“Can't stay away for a few days,” Will said. “Even if I called up sick, they might send an inspector around and if I wasn't home, lose my job....”
“You can both lose your lives if you don't get out of here! Get this through your dome, we're playing in the big leagues now. At the moment I may not know my can from a base on balls, but I'll find out. Meantime, we're dealing with a killer, and through chance you seem to be involved with him up to your ears. Thelma, get dressed, pack that bag!”
“But I have an icebox full of food...?” she said, thinking aloud.
“Stay here and it will be eaten at your wake!”
She fled to the bedroom. I heard her drag out a suitcase. Will said, “This all sounds like a bum movie, unreal....”
“Anita's body was damn real!”
“That poor child. But they have the stone now, they'll leave me alone.”
“How do you know? How do we know what the stone means? They slugged me, took the sliver, but that didn't stop them from giving me another going over, asking about money.... Will, you involved in any kind of mail fraud, a swindle with dough?”
He said indignantly, “I wouldn't tamper with a postal card! Twenty years I been a carrier, see, never lost a letter, or got a demerit for...”
&n
bsp; “Skip it. Haul your ass to Lakewood, don't write or phone anybody. Don't come back till I write you there— care of general delivery.”
“What will we tell Thelma's sister?”
“Tell her you two are taking a second honeymoon—you can use one.”
“Say, what about you and Thelma? I saw...”
“Stop it, you've got nothing to worry about Call the P.O. and get going.”
He phoned the night clerk at the post office, said he had a strained ankle, then we went down—after Thelma came rushing back to water some damn plants—and I drove around the block slowly, didn't see anybody watching the house. Will had an old Chewy and I followed them down the West Side Highway. We were the only two cars for miles.
At the yacht basin I honked my horn, turned off for the parking lot. As I drove in I saw a couple of large characters leaning against a big Caddy and smoking cigarettes. They looked like goons. Maybe I was jittery, but I turned around and sped out.
They didn't follow me, but at the moment I was too tired to get into any more rough-and-tumble acts. And I didn't want my boat wrecked. I headed for a Times Square hotel, then got a better idea and started uptown. There was a little traffic on Broadway but I couldn't make out anybody tailing me. I cut over to Amsterdam Avenue, raced up to Louise's place.
It was after 4 a.m. and I had to ring the bell several times to get her up. When I gave her my name she opened the door a crack, then all the way, sleep vanishing from her eyes, as she said, “Hal, what a wonderful surprise!”
I kissed her, feeling her warm body through the flimsy nightgown. There was a faint odor of whisky on her lips, her eye was still dark, but she'd washed the phony eyebrows off, making her look older. “I'm so glad you came back,” she whispered. “Why didn't you call? I've been waiting for...”