The Screaming Mimi

by Fredric Brown

  Ben Hayden knocked on Durban’s door. When it opened, the three of them pushed their way past Durban into the apartment. Dutch closed the door and leaned against it.

  Ben said, “Paul, here are a couple of boys who want to talk business with you – after I get through.” Durban looked puzzled, and annoyed. He said, “After you get through what?”

  “Talking,” said Ben. “I’m starting now. I know why you killed Elkins and how to prove it. You were playing around with Mitzie. You gave her the cigarette girl job at your club, until you talked her into giving it up and letting you install her at a hotel. Then when Billy got out of jail today, you knew he’d find out sooner or later, even though Mitzie had gone into hiding this morning, before he got out. And you knew Billy would kill you when he found out.”

  “I told you, Hayden, I hadn’t seen Mitzie for–”

  “Nuts. All we have to do is take you around to the Indiana Hotel for identification by employees or other guests there. If I’m right, it’ll be easy to prove it.

  “But here’s what happened tonight. Billy hadn’t found out yet. He was still looking for Mitzie, and he wanted to see you to make a touch. He tried the club, and then came here. You did answer the bell, and let him come up. Then, the way I figure it, he must have been in here alone for a short while. Dunno how that happened, but I’ll make one guess.

  “You wanted something to kill him with that wouldn’t make a noise or a mark. So you went in the bathroom awhile, and you put a cake of soap in the toe of a sock. That makes a good blackjack. Then you came back an –

  “Well, you could have killed him here, but you’d have had to carry him to the flat above. My guess is you got him up there on some pretext and slugged him there. Then you rigged the sheets out of the window and dropped him down the airshaft.”

  Paul Durban didn’t smile; there wasn’t any expression on his face at all. He said, “That’s guesswork, Hayden. Now get the hell out of–”

  “Shut up,” said Dutch.

  “You forgot something, Paul. When you left Elkins in here, you forgot he was a petty dip, maybe a klepto to boot. You say he was never in here. Well, there’s proof that he was. Pocketfuls of it. Elkins’ pockets were full of stuff he swiped when you left him alone.

  “He stepped into the kitchenette – there’s silverware to prove it. And your bureau’s just inside the bedroom door and he had time to reach through and loot it – the top of it anyway. Studs and cufflinks and stuff. And a gold watch. There was an initial G on it, and that didn’t hit me right away.

  “But didn’t you originally have a name like – wasn’t it Golemononavian or something like that? And didn’t you change it for business reasons when you opened a club of your own? If we can prove that watch was yours, let alone the rest of the stuff he’d swiped – well, you see where it puts you, since you’re on record he didn’t come here.” Dutch had stepped forward alongside Ben Hayden while he was talking. His gun was still aimed at Ben; the other man’s gun still covered Durban.

  Ben said, “Okay, boys. It’s your turn. I think he’ll talk business.”

  Dutch’s greedy eyes, as well as those of the other gunman, swung to Durban’s face.

  Ben’s big hand lashed out and down at the gun in Dutch’s hand, not trying to grab it, but slapping the gun and the hand that held it – with pile-driver force. The gun hit the hardwood floor.

  The other gunman was swinging Hoberg’s thirty-two around from Durban to Ben, and pulling the trigger. It went off a fraction of a second too soon, just before the muzzle had completed its arc. And he didn’t have time to trigger it again, for Big Ben’s fist exploded in his face.

  Ben changed the blow to a grab, and when he wheeled back around, his hands were full of unconscious gunman. Dutch, his face gray with pain and his right arm hanging as though the wrist were broken, was stooping to pick up the fallen gun with his left hand.

  Ben threw his gunman namesake, Benny, at Dutch. And then whirled to Durban.

  Ben said, “It was a free fight, Paul. We’d have liked to have had you in on it.”

  Durban tried to smile, but it was a sickly effort. He said, “I’d rather take my chances with a jury, Hayden. You play too damn rough.”

  Ben grunted. He picked the two pistols off the floor and then walked over to the telephone…

  Captain Rogers was scowling. He said, “Dammit, Ben, we send you to check a simple burglary. You find it’s murder, and get the killer, and that’s all right. But why, on a night like this, d’you got to start so much trouble we get three more stiffs? Murro, and Pete, and Hoberg. And three guys in on murder raps instead of one.

  “On top of it, one with a broken arm and one with a broken jaw, so we got to handle them careful. And enough material in those papers on Murro to keep us busy a week.

  “Anyhow, I commandeered the last free taxicab in town; it’s out front. Take it home and get those wet clothes off and go back to sleep. Tomorrow you’ll be a hero, but tonight you’re in my hair.”