Agreement to Kill

by Peter Rabe

  CHAPTER 8

  Spinner didn’t want to talk any more. He drove on, and started to smoke. He let the smoke idle back out of his mouth, making it burn in his throat. But he ignored it. Or, like Loma, he was not there to feel it. The night air became colder and the inside of the car had a chill. Spinner thought of turning the heater on, but he didn’t Feeling cold would keep him awake, he reasoned. It would make him feel alive. He was on the point of asking Loma if he were cold, but he didn’t really want to hear the answer. Spinner imagined something weird would come out, something about cold means feeling alive and that’s why corpses felt cold. Spinner shook his head sharply, and imagined that it was the strain and no sleep that was making him think this way.

  He looked at the dashboard, to see something small and concrete. “We need gas,” he said.

  It broke the spell, and Spinner was even hoping that Loma would say something in return. But Loma just nodded.

  “This looks like the stretch before Landon,” said Spinner. “There’s a station on Main Street that’s open for twenty-four hours.”

  “Take the black top to the right, just before town,” said Loma.

  “I said we need gas!” Spinner’s foot went down on the pedal and he kept it there.

  “I know. I have gas.”

  But Spinner didn’t hear it. He felt that Loma was not only ignoring his person but also his words, his judgment, and his decisions.

  “There’s a twenty-four hour garage …”

  “Why do you forget, Spinner,” said Loma, “that they are looking for you?”

  It was the first time Loma had used Spinner’s name and it gave his words a surprising weight. Spinner turned, but Loma looked as before. It was a disappointment.

  “What did you say?” asked Spinner. “You have gas?”

  “Turn right at the black top,” Loma repeated. “I’ll tell you where to stop.”

  He told Spinner to stop past a small bridge over a creek and to walk down to the leg of the bridge where he would find a five-gallon can of gas.

  “You got this planned as if you knew I was going to be along.”

  “No. I have it planned so I don’t have to be seen this side of Landon. It’s too close to Stone Bluff.”

  Spinner made no comment, and after he had found the can and poured the gas into the tank he threw the can into the ditch and came back to the car.

  “Pick it up,” said Loma. “Put it in the car.”

  Spinner stopped. He couldn’t see Loma’s face in the dark and without seeing it he couldn’t make out the man’s tone of voice. But the face wouldn’t tell him and the voice was always without inflection. Loma had told him to do something the way he would move a lever or press a button. He was using Spinner.

  “Put it in the car,” said Loma. “It’s safer.”

  Of course. The goat-eyed bastard was right. Spinner went to the ditch and picked up the can. The grass there was wet with night dew and a bush dropped wet against Spinner’s neck. He almost swung at the bush.

  Spinner threw the can into the back seat and drove off. Where to? Where Loma said they should drive. Stop where? Where Loma said they should stop. It wasn’t the way Spinner had imagined his break. There was going to be free action, free anger, and to hell with everything else. Instead he was like a button on a machine and Loma giving a press now and then.

  That wasn’t going to be it. Between now and the time they got to St. Louis, Spinner was going to make his impression. Not easy, maybe, not with a ghost like Loma, but Spinner was going to make his impression because that was going to be the new life.

  • • •

  They drove in a long silence and Spinner almost didn’t see his chance. Once he said, “How’s your foot, Loma?” and when Loma didn’t answer Spinner cursed himself for having said the wrong thing. A personal question, asking about pain. Loma couldn’t know about pain and being personal with him was like hugging a rock.

  “Damn it!” Spinner yelled. “Answer me!”

  Loma said something in a voice that slurred everything but the pain he was feeling. He sat low in the seat, rigid with effort, holding his leg as if it were an object that didn’t belong to him.

  “Jesus,” said Spinner, and slowed the car to a stop. “Bad, huh?” He leaned over the man.

  Loma was gritting words. It sounded like, “Drive — don’t stop — drive — ” but Spinner didn’t listen to him.

  “You got any bandages, rags or something? How about aspirin?”

  Loma shook his head slowly, not to make too much movement, but he didn’t say anything. His eyes were shut tight and except for the pain giving him presence he was hardly there.

  “So we’ll get some,” said Spinner and started to drive again.

  Loma breathed more like a human being after a while.

  “Just keep driving,” he said with effort “Till after Fort Timber. Let me know, after Fort Timber.”

  “What happened?” said Spinner. “With the foot?”

  “I hit it. On the turn.”

  “We’re going to take care of that,” said Spinner.

  “Keep driving,” said Loma. “Just keep …”

  “Just shut up,” said Spinner.

  The beam in front of the car didn’t seem to cut him off any more, but sucked him forward, and when the next cross road came with a sign that said Spoondale, 3 miles, Spinner slowed to a stop, backed up, and took the turn.

  “Spinner,” said Loma, “this is wrong. Wrong turn — ”

  “Leave it to me.”

  Loma tried to sit up.

  “I told you …”

  “I’m driving.”

  Loma didn’t say any more. He briefly thought of stopping Spinner, of making him do it his way, but gave up the idea. It wasn’t important enough and would mean effort without any good reason. This road, in the long run, would come out as well as the other….

  They got to Spoondale at three in the morning, which meant the small town was dark. A red light burned over the gate of the fire station, but it always burned and meant nothing. With everything dark and the tree-lined streets deserted Loma didn’t pay much attention when Spinner slowed down. Spinner slowed, then stopped, and cut the headlights.

  When he got out of the car and walked halfway into an alley Loma still didn’t pay much attention. But then, forgetting the pain of his foot, he sat up and watched closely, because he didn’t understand Spinner’s behavior. As long as Spinner served his function, and drove, Loma didn’t care whether he understood Spinner or not People were an effort to Loma, the kind of effort that irritated him. Spinner especially; he was confused, with a disorganized push behind all he did.

  The car was parked near the dark front of a store and Spinner was now in the alley, trying a window. Loma made out the sign over the store, Drugs, Prescriptions, it said. Spinner was forcing the window.

  A stupid act of bravado, a thing Loma himself would never do. But it was hard to stop Spinner now, and not really worth it. He would watch and see how Spinner made out — ten minutes, unless something went wrong.

  Loma did not have a chance to wait for ten minutes, because a short time after Spinner disappeared through the window there was the noise of a car taking off fast and a few moments later a light went on in the back of the store.

  • • •

  Spinner heard the same noise and saw the same light, but unlike Loma, he had no plan for that kind of switch. Unlike Loma, he went only by stubborn intent and by the push of excitement.

  He crouched next to the big rack in the middle of the store and watched the door with the light under it The door opened, throwing a bright shaft into the store, just missing the side of Spinner’s leg. And then the shadow.

  “That you, Dad?” it said.

  “No. But stand still,” said Spinner.

  He stood up and walked toward the door with a brazen grin on his face.

  She was much younger than Spinner had judged by her silhouette. A high-school girl with long hair, with make
-up she didn’t need, and her clothes the national norm of low shoes, thick socks, long skirt, loose sweater. Her small breasts were trained into high cones and there was a small pin on one of them.

  “You — you aren’t — ” she started.

  Spinner pushed her into the room and closed the door.

  “You got lipstick all over,” said Spinner.

  She couldn’t help putting her hand to her face, but kept staring at Spinner with an unsettled look, part curious and part waiting for the fear to take over.

  “Was that your boy friend taking off with the car?”

  After a moment she said, “You — are you a — a criminal?”

  Somehow Spinner didn’t feel brazen any more. He gave a short laugh and looked over the room.

  “Where’s everybody?” he said.

  “They’ll be …”

  “I know. They’ll be right hack.” He took her arm and pulled her into the store. “Show me the bandages.. And a splint, if there is one.”

  When she pulled her arm away Spinner didn’t grab for her because it hadn’t felt like that kind of a move. She stayed right next to him.

  “Listen here,” she said, “who you pushing around?” Spinner was sure she had her hands on her hips.

  “Just show me the shelf, girl, and you and me won’t argue.”

  He hadn’t taken up the tack she had wanted, so she tried again, doing it differently.

  “You got shot? Or a buddy of yours got shot?”

  It sounded so tough and in-the-know Spinner wasn’t sure whether to laugh or to feel embarrassed.

  “Moll,” he said, trying to live up to her expectations, “don’t waste my time.”

  He reached out to take her arm again but it was dark and he missed, and next she was close up against him, with her arms tight around his back.

  “Go ahead,” she whispered. “Go ahead.”

  Spinner was sure she meant he should kiss her, but even if he had been in the mood her stage whisper made it too ridiculous.

  “Go ahead,” she said again. “I’m not afraid.”

  He had the sudden idea to disillusion her, to say that he never had been in a stickup, that he didn’t sell dope, fix races, run rackets, that even prison had been only a spiteful mistake — when it hit him that with Loma as an in, he’d soon be exactly what she had taken him for. The thought confused him. The confusion didn’t stay with him long because anger took over. He remembered what he had left behind in Stone Bluff.

  “Stop horsing around,” he said and pushed her away. “Show me the shelf.”

  He had hurt her, and she let go immediately.

  “All right, over here,” she said and led him around the rack in the middle of the store and behind a counter.

  “Tape, elastic bandage, anything like that,” he said.

  She found both and held the packages out to him.

  “Where are the pills, heavy drugs?”

  She turned immediately and walked to the back where the pharmacy was sectioned off. Spinner followed close behind. He could hear her breathing.

  “They’re locked up,” she said. “In here.”

  It was an ordinary wood cupboard but with a big lock. Spinner put one fist into the other hand and rammed his elbow into the door. The panel splintered and he reached inside.

  “Light a match and hold it,” he said, and gave her a match book.

  She did as he told her and while he sorted through the small boxes and bottles she watched with eyes wide and mouth open, and when she lit one match from the other she did it with fast, eager motions.

  “You — ” She swallowed, then started again. “What drug are you on?” she said quickly.

  “Saltpeter,” he said, but didn’t watch to see if she got it He felt tense and on edge.

  He took out the big bottles last, which meant he didn’t find the codeine till he had gone through all the small stuff. He shook a handful of the pills into his pocket and then took the matches out of her hand.

  “All right. Get back to your room.”

  He pushed her ahead of him and then through the door into the light He stayed in the dark.

  “Now listen to me, girl. You stay in this room and don’t move. When Daddy comes back …”

  “He won’t be back till the morning, don’t you see? That’s why Jimmy and I …”

  “I know how it is. Now just shut up and don’t move. You know better than to make a commotion, right?”

  She meant to protest, to explain that it wouldn’t enter her head to make a commotion and that she wasn’t afraid, but Spinner slammed the door in her face and headed back to the dark window where he had come in.

  “Do you need any money?” She stood in the open door looking at him.

  He came back to the room with long, fast steps. He wasn’t sure whether he should yell at her, paddle her rear, or lock her into a closet somewhere. She stepped back when she saw Spinner coming, so that he didn’t reach her until he was well into the room. Of all the emotions that Spinner was able to read into her face, fear wasn’t one of them.

  But suddenly she turned stiff.

  Spinner came around fast, to see what made her stare. There was a door to the outside which swung open slowly and the darkness outside gave the movement a ghostly appearance. And there was nobody standing there.

  Loma was on the floor, the pale face a mask of control, with the strain to move showing only in the stretched neck, and he was holding a gun.

  The gun didn’t show very long. Perhaps only Spinner had seen it. Loma had judged the situation with mechanical speed, and when Spinner lifted Loma and put him into a seat the room looked casual enough; Loma sitting back and guarding his ankle, Spinner with tape and bandages under his arm, and the girl looking eager and curious.

  “That’s your buddy, isn’t it?” she said and walked up to Loma. “Where’s the wound?” she asked him. “Is it bad?”

  Loma seemed to shrink like a dead leaf. He turned to Spinner and said, “You must be out of your mind. Carry me back.”

  It was the first time Spinner had heard the killer speak sharply. The tone of voice stung him, like a reprimand to a wayward child, and Loma’s having followed him to watch that Spinner made no mistakes was the worst part of it And Loma had come with a gun. That pale creep had been carrying an extra gun all the time.

  “You been carrying that all the time?” Spinner nodded at Loma’s belt.

  Loma answered with a cold look.

  “How come I didn’t know?”

  “Why should you?”

  “And how come you didn’t use it before?” Spinner stepped slowly closer. “There’ve been a couple of times …”

  “There hasn’t been any good reason,” said Loma.

  An unclear, sudden anger made Spinner move fast “You son of a bitch,” he said through his teeth. He yanked the gun out of Loma’s pocket and stuck it into his belt “You son of a bitch — ”

  Loma did nothing about it. It would not have worked right then.

  “A glass of water,” said Spinner, and while the girl drew water from the sink in back Spinner took out three pills.

  “Take me out of here,” Loma said. “You hear me?”

  It meant exactly the thing that Spinner wanted to change. It meant Loma stopped him and Loma told him what next.

  “Take them.”

  Loma said, “No.”

  But there was more to it A swift look of life had come over his face, too fast for Spinner to judge it, and then Loma had shut his mouth.

  “Come on. Open up.”

  Loma wouldn’t But it meant more to Spinner now than just the pills, and Loma saw it He saw Spinner step closer and he saw how Spinner’s manner turned very quiet.

  “Take them, Loma.”

  Loma pushed back into the chair as much as he could.

  “What are they?” he said. “I can’t …”

  “Take them!”

  “Listen to me! I can’t take them. I can’t — ”

  “Why i
s it,” said Spinner, close to Loma’s face now, “why is it you always want the opposite, Loma?”

  Loma closed his eyes to shut everything out. He felt pain eat into his foot and leg, feeling it more now because Spinner was making the pain an issue. Take the pills, or Spinner would make an issue. He was not easily predictable. How to handle Spinner — take the pills. They would wear off in a while. Perhaps they were very strong and the best that could happen, if he could not be wide awake, was to pass out completely.

  Loma opened his mouth and Spinner put in the pills.

  “Now give him the water,” he said to the girl.

  She held the glass to Loma’s mouth and watched him drink. Even when his peculiar eyes looked up at her she did not look away. She was fascinated.

  Loma looked back at her with a blank expression. It guarded the shrinking feeling inside him, the sense that she was some unnatural, insane specimen and that everything around him was unreal.

  CHAPTER 9

  Loma closed his eyes and waited for it to happen. The pain would go away and there would be nothing. It would mean that the drug had taken over his body, his thinking and his feeling, and none of it would be his own. A thin sweat covered his skin and Loma clenched his hands into tight, bony fists because the waiting was terrible.

  “When the pain starts easing up let me know. I’ll put on the bandage.”

  God, thought Loma, God — And if I open my eyes, I will see the ceiling, he said to himself. It will be spinning on an off-center axis. Something brushed his arm.

  “Gee,” said the girl. “Did I hurt you? The way you jumped — ”

  She didn’t say any more. She didn’t know what to say to a face with eyes like a goat and the thin features drawn with disgust.

  She stepped away from the chair. She said, “Gee,” again, to Spinner this time, and “What’s the matter with him? All I did was …”

  “Never mind him.”

  Loma could hear that Spinner was no longer close to the chair, but somewhere in back.

  “Come here,” Spinner said to the girl.

  Then Loma couldn’t make out the words, just something indistinct But they were there, to the side. He could open his eyes and see.