Kiss Me Deadly

Home > Other > Kiss Me Deadly > Page 12
Kiss Me Deadly Page 12

by Mickey Spillane


  They played it cute but they didn’t play it right and Charlie Max took time out to bend his head into the match he held up to light his cigarette and that’s when I came in and stood behind his partner.

  I said, “Hello, Sugar,” and thought the glass he held would crumple under his fingers. The little hairs on the back of his neck went up straight like happens to a dog when he meets another dog, only on this mutt the skin under the hair happened to be a pale, pale yellow.

  Sugar had heard the word. He had heard other people talk. He knew about the sign marked DEAD END and about me and how things hadn’t happened as they were planned. I could feel the things churning through his head as I reached under his arm for rod and all the while Sugar never moved a muscle. It was a little rod with a big bore. I flipped the shells out of the cylinder, dropped them in my pocket and put the gun back in its nest. Sugar didn’t get it. He sweated until it soaked through the collar of his shirt but he still didn’t get it.

  Long John came up, saw me half hidden behind Sugar and said, “What’ll it be, feller?” Then Sugar got it while Long John’s eye got big and round. I had my hands around his middle in just the right spot, jerked hard and fast with my locked thumbs going into flesh under the breastbone like a kid snapping worms. Hard and fast ... just once, and Sugar Smallhouse was another drunk who was sleeping it off at the bar.

  And Charlie Max was a guy suddenly alive and sober coming up out of his chair trying to clear a gun from a hip holster to collect his bonus. Eternity took place right then in the space of about five seconds of screaming confusion. Somebody saw the gun and the scream triggered the action. Charlie’s gun never got quite cleared because the dame beside him pushed too hard getting away and his chair caught him behind the knees. They were all over the joint, cursing, pushing, falling out of the way and fighting to make the door. Then the noise stopped and it was just a tableau of silent panic because the crowd was behind me and there was nothing more to do except stand there with fascinated terror as Charlie Max scrambled for his rod and I closed in with a couple of quick steps.

  The gun was there in his fist, coming up and around as I brought my foot up and the things that were in Charlie’s face splashed all over the floor. His face looked soft and squashy a second, became something not at all human and he tried once more with the gun.

  Nobody heard that kick because his arm made too much noise.

  Somehow his eyes were still there, swelling fast, yet still bright. They were eyes that should have been filled with excruciating pain, but horror pushed it out as he saw what was going to happen to him.

  “The job was too big, buddy. Somebody should have told you how many guys I put on their backs with skulls split apart because they were gunning for me.” I said it real easy and reached for the gun.

  The voice behind me said, “Don’t touch it, Hammer.”

  I looked up at the tall guy in the blue pin-striped suit, straightened and grunted my surprise. His face stayed the way it was. There were two more of them standing in the back of the room. One was trying to wake up Sugar Smallhouse. The other came forward, ran his hands over me, looked at his partner with a startled expression that was almost funny before giving me a stare that you might see coming from a kid watching a ballplayer hit a homer.

  There wasn’t a damn thing they could do and they knew it, so I turned around, walked back outside and started cross-town to the Astor.

  Washington had finally showed up.

  She was waiting there in a comer of the lobby. There were others who were waiting too and used the time just to watch her. Some had even taken up positions where they could move in if the one she was waiting for didn’t show up. She wasn’t wearing a red carnation, but she did smile and I could almost feel that mouth on me across the room.

  Her hair was the same swirly mass that was as buoyant as she was. There aren’t many words to describe a woman like Michael Friday as she was just then. You have to look at the covers of books and pick out the parts here and there that you like best, then put them all together and you have it. There was nothing slim about her. Maybe a sleekness like a well-fed, muscular cat, an athletic squareness to her shouldders, a sensual curve to her hips, and antagonizing play of motion across her stomach that seemed unconsciously deliberate. She stood there lazily, flexing one smoothly rounded leg that tightened the skirt across her thigh.

  I grinned at her and she held out her hand. My own folded around it, stayed there and we walked out together. “Waiting long?” I asked her.

  She squeezed my arm under hers. “Longer than I usually wait for anyone. Ten minutes.”

  “I hope I’m worth it.”

  “You aren’t.”

  “But you can’t help yourself,” I finished.

  Her elbow poked me. “How did you know?”

  “I don’t,” I said. “I’m just bragging.”

  There wasn’t any smile there now. “Damn you,” she whispered. I could feel her go all tight against me, saw her do that trick with her tongue that left her mouth damp and waiting. I pulled my eyes away and opened the door of the cab that sat at the curb, helped her in and climbed in after her.

  “Where to?”

  She leaned forward, gave an address on Riverside Drive and eased back into the cushions.

  It seemed to come slowly, the way sleep does when you’re too tired, the gradual coming together of two people. Slow, then faster and all of a sudden her arms were around me and my hands were pressing into her back and my fingers curled in her hair. I looked at that mouth that wasn’t just damp now, but wet and she said, “Mike, damn you,” softly and I tasted the hunger in her until the fury of it was too much and I let her go.

  Some shake and some cry, some even demand right then, but all she did was close her eyes, smile, open them again and relax beside me. I held out a cigarette, lit it for her, did mine and sat there without saying anything until the cab stopped by the building.

  When we were in the lobby I said, “What are we supposed to be doing here, gal?”

  “It’s a party. Out-of-town friends of Carl and his business associates get together.”

  “I see. Where do you come in?”

  “You might call me a greeter. I’ve always been the go-between for my big brother. You might say ... he takes advantage of my good looks.”

  “It’s an angle.” I stopped her and nodded toward one of the love seats in the corner. She frowned, then went over and sat down. I parked next to her and turned out the light on the table beside me. “You said you wanted to talk. We’ll never make it upstairs.”

  Her fingers made nervous little motions in her lap. “I know,” she said softly. “It was about CarL”

  “What about him?”

  She looked at me appealingly. “Mike ... I did what you told me to. I ... found out all about you.”

  “I ... it’s no use trying to be clever or anything. Carl is mixed up in something. I’ve always known that.” She dropped her eyes to her hands, twining her fingers together. “A lot of people are ... and it didn’t seem to matter much, really. He has all sorts of important friends in government and business. They seem to know what he does so I never complained.”

  “You just took whatever he gave you without asking,” I stated.

  “That’s right. Without asking.”

  “Sort of what you don’t know won’t hurt you.”

  Michael stared blankly at her lap for a few seconds. “Yes.”

  “Now you’re worried.”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  The worry seemed to film her eyes over. “Because ... before it was only legal things that gave him trouble. Carl ... had lawyers for that. Good ones. They always took care of things.” She laid her hand over mine. It shook a little. “You’re different.”

  “Say it.”

  “I ... can’t.”

  “All right. You’re a killer, Mike. You’re dirty, nasty and you don’t care how you do it as long as you do it. You’ve killed and you’l
l keep killing until you get killed yourself.”

  I said, “Just tell me one thing, kid. Are you afraid for me or Carl?”

  “It isn’t for you. Nothing will ever touch you.” She said it with a touch of bitterness that was soft and sad at the same time.

  I looked at her wonderingly. “You’re not making sense now.”

  “Mike ... look at me closely and you’ll see. I ... love Carl. He’s always taken care of me. I love him, don’t you see? If he’s in trouble ... there are other ways, but not you, Mike, not you. I ... wouldn’t want that.”

  I took my hand away gently, lit a cigarette and watched the smoke sift out into the room. Michael smiled crookedly as she watched me. “It happened fast, Mike,” she said. “It sounds very bad and very inadequate. I’m a very lovely phony, you’re thinking and I can’t blame you a bit. No matter what I ever say, you’ll never believe me. I could try to prove it but no matter how hard I tried or what I did, it would only make it look worse so I won’t try any more at all. I’d just like to say this, Mike. I’m sorry it had to be this way. You ... hit me awfully hard. It never happened to me before. Shall we go up now?”

  I got up, let her take my arm and walked to the elevator. She hit the top button and stood there facing the door without speaking, but when I squeezed her arm her hand closed tighter around mine and she tossed her hair back to start the smile she’d have when we got out.

  Carl’s two boys were by the door in the foyer. They wore monkey suits and on them the term was absolutely descriptive. They started their smiling when they saw Michael and stopped when they saw me. You could see them exchange looks trying to figure the next move and they weren’t up to it. We were through the door and a girl was taking my hat while they stood there watching us foolishly.

  The place was packed. It was loud with laughs and conversation to the point where the music from the grand piano in the corner barely penetrated. Quiet little men with trays passed through the huddled groups handing out drinks and as heads turned to take them I could spot faces you see in the paper often. Some you saw in the movies too, and there were a few you heard making political speeches over the air.

  Important people. So damn important you wondered about the company they kept because in each group were one or two not so important unless you looked at police records or knew what they did for a living.

  There were hellos from a dozen different directions. Michael smiled, waved back and started to steer me toward the closest group. Leo Harmody was there in all of his self-assuming importance ready to introduce her to the others. I took my arm away and said, “You go to it, baby. I’ll find the bar and get a drink.”

  She nodded, a trace of a frown shadowing the comer of her mouth.

  So I went to the bar.

  Where Affia was holding Velda’s hand and Billy Mist was giving her a snow job while Carl Evello watched cheerfully.

  Velda was good. She showed pleasant curiosity and smiled. Carl wasn’t so good. He got a little white.

  Billy Mist was even worse. He got color in his greasy face but most of it was deep red and his lips tightened so much his teeth showed. I said, “If you’re wondering, Carl, your little sister invited me along.”

  “Oh?”

  “Charming girl,” I said. “You’d never know she was your sister.”

  Then I looked at Billy. I was hating his guts inside and out so hard I could hardly stand still. I looked him over real slow like I was trying to find a spot in the garbage pail for the latest load and said, “Hello, stupid.”

  They can’t take it. You can tear their heart out with one word and they can’t take it. Billy’s face was something ready to blow up like a landmine and he wasn’t even thinking of the consequences. He was all alone in the room with me for that brief second and his hand tightened, got ready to grab something under his coat and right at the top of everything he felt I just stood there lazy-like and said, “Go ahead.”

  And he thought and thought about the dead men and watched his bubble bust wide open because his mind was telling him he’d never make it while he faced me and he got like Carl. White.

  But I wasn’t watching Billy Mist any more. I was watching Al Affia, plodding Al Affia who had the waterfront sewed up. Ignorant, thickheaded, slow Al who kept stroking Velda’s hand all the while and who didn’t turn color or go tight or do anything at all except say, “What’s the matter with you guys?”

  Velda repeated it. “What is the matter? After all ...”

  “Forget it, honey,” Billy told her. “Just kidding around. You know how it is.”

  “Sure you know how it is,” Al said.

  I looked at the Brooklyn boy and watched him carve his face into a grin, muscle by muscle. Somebody should have mentioned Al’s eyes to the boys. They weren’t a bit stupid. They were small and close together, but they were bright with a lot of things nobody ever knew about. Someday they’d know.

  “Nobody introduced me to the lady.” I said.

  Carl put his drink down on the bar, afraid to let go of it. “Hammer, I believe it is.” He looked at me questioningly and I grinned. “Yes, Mike Hammer. This is Miss Lewis. Candy Lewis.”

  “Hello Candy,” I said.

  “Hello, Mike.”

  “Neat. Very neat. Model?”

  “I do fashions for newspaper advertising.”

  Good mind, that secretary of mine. Nice and easy to explain to Billy how come she was shooting it with a couple of newshawks. I wondered how she had smoothed out his feelings.

  She knew what I was thinking and went me one better. “What do you do, Mr. Hammer?”

  They were watching me now. I said, “I hunt.”

  “Big game?”

  “People,” I said, and grinned at Billy Mist.

  His nostrils seemed to flare out a little. “Interesting.”

  “You’ll never know, chum. It gets to be real sport after a while.” His mouth pressed together, a nasty smirk starting, “Like tonight. I got me two more. You ever hunt?”

  His face wasn’t red any more. It was calm and deadly. “Yeah, I hunt.”

  “We ought to try it together sometime. I’ll show you a few tricks.”

  A low rumble came from Al’s chest. “I’d like to see that,” he laughed. “I sure would.”

  “Some people haven’t got the guts for it,” I told him. “It looks easy when you’re always on the right side of a gun.” I took them all in with one sweep of my eyes. “When you’re on the wrong end it gives you the squirms. You know what I mean?”

  Carl was on the verge of saying something. I would like to have heard it, but Leo Harmody came up, bowed himself into our little clique with a deep laugh and spoke to Velda. “Could I borrow you long enough to meet a friend of mine, my dear?”

  “No, certainly not. You don’t care, do you, Billy?”

  “Go ahead. Bring her back,” he told Leo. “We was talking.”

  She smiled at the four of us, got down off the stool and walked away. Billy wasn’t looking at me when he said, “You better stay home nights from now on, wise guy.”

  I didn’t look at him either. I kept watching Velda passing through the crowd. I said, “Any time, any place,” and left them there together. A waiter came by with a tray, offered me a drink and I picked one up. It was a lousy drink but I threw it down anyway.

  People kept saying hello just to be polite and I said hello back. I picked Michael out of the crowd and saw that she was looking around for me too. Just as I started toward her I heard a whispered, “Mike!”

  I stood there, took another drink from a passing waiter and sipped it. Velda said, “Meet me on the comer in an hour. The drug store.”

  It was enough. I walked off, waved to Michael and waited while she made excuses to her friends.

  Her smile looked tired, her face worried, but she swung across the room and held her hands out to me. “Enjoying yourself?”

  “Oh, somewhat.”

  “I saw you talking to my brother.”

 
; “And friends. He sure has great friends.”

  “Is everything ... all right?”

  “For now.”

  She sucked her lip between her teeth and frowned. “Take me home, Mike.”

  “Not tonight, kid.” Her face came up, hurt. “I’ve been read off,” I said. “I’m unhealthier than ever to be seen with. When it happens I don’t want you around.”

  “Carl?”

  “He’s part of it ”

  “And you think I am too.”

  “Michael, you’re a nice kid. You’re lovely as hell and you have everything to go with it. If you’re trying to get something across to me I don’t get it. Even if I did I wouldn’t trust you a bit. I could go crazy nuts about you but I still wouldn’t trust you. I told you a word the last time I saw you. It was Mafia. It’s a word you don’t speak right out because it means trouble. It’s a word that has all the conniving and murder in the world behind it and as long as it touches you I’m not trusting you.”

  “You ... didn’t feel that way ... when you kissed me.”

  There was no answer to it. I ran my hand along her cheek and squeezed her ear while I grinned at her. “A lot of things don’t make much sense. They just happen.”

  “Will I see you again?”

  “Maybe.”

  She walked to the door with me, said good-by and let her tongue run over her mouth slowly like she was enjoying the taste of something. I grabbed my hat and got out of there fast before she talked me into something I wasn’t going to get talked into.

  The two goons were still outside. There was something set in their faces and they didn’t move when I went past them. When the elevator came up I stepped in, hit the button marked B and had a smoke on the way down. The door opened, I hit the main-floor buzzer as I got out and the elevator went back up a floor.

  It wasn’t hard to get out of there the back way. I went past the furnaces, angled around closed storerooms and found the door. There was a concrete yard in back bordered by a fence with a door that swung into the same arrangement on the other side. This time I met a young kid firing one of the furnaces, held out a bill as I went by and said, “Dames. You know how it is.” He nodded wisely, speared the bill and went back to his work whistling.

 

‹ Prev