Which was all I needed.
I'm like most men. Give me anything but a crying female.
That'll stop me every time.
I set my glass down on the table next to the couch and stood up and walked over to her, instinctively putting my arms around her and drawing her to me. She came willingly, and the sobs that shook her body moved against me now too.
"I want to get Tommy Court," I said into her ear. "I think he killed your husband, and I think he had someone else killed too. But I'll need your help, Eve. If you want to see things set straight, you've got to help me."
"But I don't know anything..."
The words came muffled against my shoulder, but there was no doubting their sincerity.
"What did Tommy think about his father?" I pushed. "Did he ever say anything to you about him, good or bad?"
Her head shook slightly. "No, not really. We...we didn't talk that much, if you know what I mean. But...when he did speak of his father, he was belligerent. He didn't like him. But of course he would never have said that to his father himself, not when he was going to inherit all of that money." She lifted her eyes to mine, added needlessly, 'Tommy isn't a very nice person."
"Did he ever say anything about a change in his father's will?"
"No..."
"How about any, uh, business arrangements he might have had? Secret things he didn't want people to know about?"
"No, nothing, only his gambling debts with Zucco. He'd complain about those sometimes."
I nodded, but inside my head everything was far from all right. It looked like she was right. She really didn't know anything that would help.
She was just a sex toy for Tommy Court, not a confidant.
And then my mind stopped working altogether, because my body took over.
It took over because things were happening to it.
One of her hands had slipped around to the back of my heck and drew my face down to hers. The tears were still in her eyes but she wasn't crying now. There was something else, the soft, sensuous promise of the same things, the sexual things, that must have drawn Tommy to her in the first place.
It was the only thing she thought she had to offer, and now she offered it to me.
We kissed, and the kiss was a hot, succulent, living thing, her tongue darting between my lips and around my own tongue like some fiery serpent. Her other hand drifted down to the front of my slacks and began kneading me where I needed it most. Where I'd need it, that is, if I'd wanted it.
But I didn't want it, not this way, and I held her by the shoulders and eased her back.
Panic flew into her eyes as she interpreted my denial as something else.
"Rock...no, you've got to help me! You got me into this! That's what Tommy was here for. He said you'd be around asking questions and...and that if he found out I'd talked with you he'd come back and...kill me—"
"Listen, Eve—"
She tried to pull close to me again, even though I wouldn't let her. "See...I'll be good to you, Dugan. There's no place I can hide in this town from Tommy, but with you by me I won't have to! I did talk with you, and Tommy will find out...you've got a responsibility to me now. You've got to protect me! But I'll make it worth your while. I promise I will!"
"Eve!" I snapped. "For chrissake, you haven't been stuck in this town for so long that you forgot there's a road leading out, have you?"
"But...I can't leave. How could I leave?"
I reached into my back pocket, brought out my wallet and came out with all the money that was in it except for three fives, which came to a little over two hundred bucks. I always carry a lot of money on me when I'm working. Sometimes it comes in handy, although it usually doesn't end up going to charity, like now.
She looked blankly at the handful of bills, then back at me.
'Tm going to clean up this town, Eve," I told her. "I've got a feeling that taking care of Mr. Court's killers, and your husband's killers, and taking care of Langdon Springs, are going to be one and the same. Things are going to start changing now. Things that have been the way they are for a long time. And a lot of people are going to try and keep them from changing. And a lot of people are going to get hurt."
"But if Tommy did kill Paul, and it came to trial, I could testify."
"About what? You just told me you don't know anything, and I believe you. But maybe Tommy and Zucco and whoever else is involved in this mess, like Chief Medwick, maybe they won't believe you.
"You're not doing so well, Eve; But I think you're right. It is this town, and all the schmucks you've gotten involved with. So here's your chance. That money. Call it part of the cleanup. Let's make it sound dramatic, okay? Just like in the movies. Let's say I'm going to take this place apart and a lot of people are going to get hurt. But I want to keep some people from getting hurt too. And you're one of them."
She started to speak again, but I didn't let her.
"Don't tell me anything. Don't thank me...nothing. Just take the money and say you'll go. I think you're worth it, Eve. You're worth saving. And I'd hate for you to blow it."
Tears were welling up in those eyes again, but she managed to bite her lip and hold them back. "I'll take your money. Rock...I'll leave."
I nodded. "Great. Good luck, kid." And I turned and let myself out.
CHAPTER TEN
My good deed for the week completed, I climbed back into Susan Court's car, this time checking the floor of the backseat first, and headed back into town.
Confidentially, I was bushed.
Mentally and physically.
Let's take mentally first. Talk about your impossible crimes! I figured if I ever unraveled this one, I might just retire, go back east and try to pick up the trail of old Judge Crater. And after I found him I could get to work on the Jack the Ripper case. There were all sorts of doozies left unsolved, and they should be child's play once I broke the mystery of Carlander Court and his flying corpse.
It was a beauty, all right.
A man in his sixties, hale and hearty though he was only weeks or a month away from dying; yet last night happy and proud as could be because he'd just gotten a new toy. He'd climbed into that toy, flown out a ways, done a loop and flown back over the people he'd invited to share his thrill. He'd even waved down at us, still very much alive as he'd coasted by overhead.
So okay, he flies out a little further in the other direction, circles again, starts to come in for a landing...and then the trouble begins. It's a rough landing, but he makes it and we all rush over to help him out. And there he is—deader than Philadelphia on a Tuesday night.
The police and the newspapers are saying suicide which might be all right since he was up there alone, no one with him, and since there was no mechanical device that had jammed that knife into him.
But it isn't all right. Because the police are forgetting, or looking over, three distinct things.
Three singular facts.
One, is all the people walking around who wanted him dead.
Two, is the fact that, when he climbed into that glider, Carlander Court was not in the frame of mind of a man about to take his own life. He was happy, proud, excited.
And three was the most damning of all.
The corker.
The reason that made the other two pale in comparison.
If Carlander Court had stabbed himself, if he had slipped that knife into his own abdomen and taken his own life, and since he hadn't been wearing any gloves...why weren't his prints on the knife handle?
So all right, you've got the picture.
It was a stumper, and brain-wise, I was fresh out of ideas.
I was pooped.
And I wasn't feeling so hot physically, either. It's only in Mickey Spillane and those guys that we private dicks get our heads bashed in, the way Jinx Moran had done to mine, and not feel a thing. That doesn't go in the day-to-day world I have to work in.
My head was woozy and it suddenly occurred to me that it was getting close to four
and that I hadn't had anything to eat since breakfast, before my visit to Alex Hanley.
It was time to put on the feedbag.
I'd planned on my next stop being the office of George Bishop. But considering the hour, I decided now to eat first and then pay a call on the counselor at home. Time enough for another round of questions and answers once my more basic needs had been attended to.
Those of you who live in a small town know that anytime you drive from one point to another in town, chances are you'll be using one of the burg's two or three main drags. Langdon Springs was no exception. And so it was that on my way back in I again passed my temporary sleeping quarters, The Shangri-la Motel, and the restaurant next door. And that's where I decided to eat.
Well, one thing led to another.
I pulled up in front of my number, planning to cross the parking lot and hit the restaurant. But then I decided, since I was this close, I might as well go in and wash up, maybe even take a shower, since I hadn't slowed down at all since waking up from Moran's clout.
I unlocked the apartment door, stepped in and left the lights off. The draped windows faced east and it was late afternoon, but very dim sunlight still filtered through. Enough sunlight for me to see the bed, still wrinkled from my waltz with good old Jinx...but looking fairly comfortable just the same.
So I thought: sure, why not?
It was that easy.
That quick shower and the food, while not forgotten, were moved down the list of priorities. It was going to be a long night. I was surprised at the drawn-out, weary sigh that escaped my lips as I fell back full length on top of the covers.
A bed never felt so good.
I just laid there for about five minutes, relaxing, staring at the ceiling...until I realized I wasn't alone.
She was sitting in the chair across from me, before the window, outfitted in a chic black thing—her mourning outfit, I guess—that nonetheless clung lovingly to her slender figure.
It was that sixth sense we all have that had brought me the realization that she was there. I propped myself up on an elbow and flicked on the bedside light, putting us both into the circle of its glow.
She smiled slightly. "I've heard about laying down on the job, but this is ridiculous."
I sat up, brought my feet down to the floor and ran some fingers through my hair. "It's been a tough day, honey. You wouldn't believe what a tough day it's been. How did you get in here? How did you find out where I was staying?"
"There aren't that many motels in town. As for getting in...I'm a Court. That name can get a lot of service around Langdon Springs. I just told the manager the truth about last night and that you were working for me, and he let me in to wait for you. I hope you don't mind."
I smiled back at her. "I'd never mind seeing you, Susan. Beautiful girls are always welcome in my motel rooms. I'm sorry there's nothing here to drink."
She gave a feminine little shrug. "That's okay." And then the good cheer, which I had a feeling was more than a little manufactured, disappeared, and her eyes grew dark and somber and the softness of her features grew taut. "I wanted to find out how you're doing, Rock. What you've come up with so far."
So I told her. As concisely and as well organized as I could, I outlined my movements of the day. The only thing I left out was the pass Eve Harmon had made at me. I figured it didn't matter, and there are some things you just don't tell a woman you're interested in.
Her eyes flickered when I came to the part about Jinx Moran, and that was the first thing she went back to when I was done.
"I wondered about Jinx. Something really strange happened at the house this afternoon."
"He showed up there?"
"Yes, but only for a few minutes. He made a quick phone call—at the time I didn't know anything was wrong so I didn't try to hear what was being said—and then he went out to his room over the garage and packed and came back down and drove away. I asked him where he was going and he just said on a vacation but...I had the impression I'd never see him again..."
"You were probably right," I said. "He thought I was dead. Under the circumstances, from his point of view, he did the only logical thing. He got the hell out."
Her brow furrowed. "But Jinx...he's been with the family for so long. I can't believe that he'd...that he'd do anything to harm Dad."
"I don't either," I admitted. "He didn't sound like an accessory to murder this afternoon. He sounded like he was just helping someone out by giving me some grief. In fact, he even said it was a favor. Someone must have sold him the idea that I was out to stir things up. And that's why I'm not too worried about him. It's too bad, and Jinx will probably never come back to find out, but I think someone was just using him."
"Like Murray Zucco?"
"Maybe." There was a lull then, an old lead balloon pause, and I didn't like the way she was avoiding my eyes and playing with the seam of her outfit. "Susan, you could have asked for a report over the phone, but you didn't. You came here, and that means there's something you want to talk about. Something you want to tell me, that you didn't want anyone else to hear. So I'm listening, all right?"
That was the push she needed. She was up and over and sitting on the bed next to me, close to me, the fragrance of her a delightful sensation in my nostrils.
"There is something," she said. "Last night, after everyone had gone and I was alone in the house...I was up in Dad's study, looking out the window behind his desk, just sort of thinking. But then something caught my eye. Someone was down there, in the field beyond the treeline where the glider had been!"
"You couldn't see who it was?"
"No, it was too dark. But there was a car, or a truck, with a bright searchlight on it, one of those that fix on the side of the frame, and they were going around off the road and over a lot of the field. I did make out a figure, a man's figure, once or twice. He was passing in front of the light. From that distance and in that light I couldn't make out any details, of course, but...it looked like he was looking for something. Something he might have dropped."
"That is strange. Could you tell how many there were?"
"N-no, but I had the impression that there were only two of them, one driving the vehicle and whoever else was doing the looking, if that's what he was doing."
I shook my head, tugged absently at an earlobe. "That's got to mean something," I said, "but I'm damned if I could say what. How about the car? Do you remember any with a searchlight like that?"
"Yes..."
Again that lull; a jerked halt.
"Tell me, Susan. You've gone this far. And I think I know anyway. If these guys were hauling around in a field like that, there aren't many outfits that could handle the job."
She nodded, blinking. "That's right. I'm pretty sure it was the jeep...the one Jinx was driving yesterday. It has a light like that. I—I left the house and went down there to find out what was going on, but they must have heard me. There was no one there when I got there." Her eyes looked up and caught mine. "What does it mean, Rock? What's going on?"
I touched her, touched her shoulders, just like I'd touched Eve Harmon only a half hour before, and for the same reasons. Only there was a difference here, because I did feel something emotional for the girl I was holding. But I was damned if I was going to let those instincts take over.
I'm still a gentleman when I have to be.
The head was on my shoulder, just the way Eve's had been, and the scent of her was stronger. Only the thickness of her words told me how close she was to breaking apart.
"Rock...I'm so lonely. I was born and raised in this town, but I'm still a stranger. Now that Dad's gone, there's no one. No one..."
"There's me, Susan. Any time you need me. You know that."
"I know it, and last night when I was all alone...oh, I wished I had you then, Rock Dugan. I wished I had you...that we were together, like we are now. So you could make me forget—"
And those were the last words we spoke, for awhile.
; Each person reacts differently, finding a different outlet, a different release, when too many emotions have built up and been hidden away for too long, and now the girl sitting with me on the bed reacted in what might probably be the best way of them all.
At least it was for her.
For us.
At that moment.
I didn't question it, I didn't say anything.
A lot of the same things had been building up in me too. I'd become too involved with this woman for this to be just another case.
I knew that, and now I knew she knew it. That she felt some, or all, of the same things. Things, emotions, feelings—that had grown to maturity in the one day alone since we'd met, nurtured by the horror and fear around us.
Horror, fear and everything that went with it...forgotten now, if only for an instant in time, as our lips met and welded together, as we fell back in each other's embrace.
To search for that one piece of heaven together.
To search for it, and to find it...
We made love, we rested, we made love again, and fell asleep in each other's arms. It was a deep, dreamless, fully relaxed sleep and I don't know how long I was out, but the next thing I was aware of was the faint sound of a running shower, and I finally got around to opening my eyes.
The room was dark except for the light filtering in from the open bathroom door, and quiet except for the shower and the girl in it, humming happily. I stretched and it felt good too, but not so good that I forgot what I was supposed to be doing. That I was supposed to be working, even at a time like this.
I leaned over, not bothering to turn on the light, and picked up the bedside phone; had the front desk put me through to Abe Morales' office number in Denver. Abe must have been pulling the late shift or something, because he was in and he answered on the second ring.
"Abe, this is Rock."
"Yeah. I've been waiting to hear from you. Where are you?"
"Why? What's up?"
Some Die Hard Page 8