Some Die Hard

by Stephen Mertz

  "A lot of people do, Murray. Your boys got Hochman, more or less, but they didn't get the slips." I shrugged. "There are a lot of people who also think that when that happened, that maybe you took another step; a bigger step, to make sure Carlander Court didn't change his will."

  He shook his head and laughed, but there was no mirth in it. The atmosphere of the office was too tense, too deadly, for there to be anything funny about it.

  "Dugan," he said, "I don't know whose fairy tales you've been reading, but they sure aren't in the official records. I don't recall hearing anything about Carlander Court being murdered. He was up there by himself in that glider, and he took his own life. And Tommy Court's still the rightful heir to his estate." His eyes shone. "Now if you think there's any way Court could have been murdered, up there alone..."

  "Yeah, I know," I sighed. "That's what everyone's been trying to get through my head all day. But it just doesn't jell, Murray. It—"

  I was cut off as the door in the opposite wall, the door leading to the game room, was flung open. Tommy Court came in in a hurry, feverish and a little upset. He didn't even see me. He just let the door slam behind him and went over to Murray's desk and let it all hang out.

  "Murray, look! They're giving me trouble out there again. I'm just getting hot, but...I ran out of ready cash and—"

  Zucco's impassive stare told him to shut up and he looked around. He saw me and his mouth clamped tight. Now he was really upset.

  I said, "Hi, Tommy. Still gambling with money you don't have?"

  He looked back at Zucco. "What's he doing here?"

  "I think he still thinks we murdered your father," Zucco replied. "That, despite the way your father died, the fact that you were down on the ground next to Dugan the whole time, and the fact that I have an alibi no one can break. I was out in the restaurant supervising a wedding party last night when Mr. Court died, Dugan. There must have been thirty or forty people who can testify to that. Good, upstanding people. Not friends."

  The boy worked his fingers, drew his arms in close to his side. But we'd been through the macho act the night before and it didn't scare me any more now than it had then. He might have been a demon with a knife or a gun if you were sleeping or had your back turned, but face to face I didn't give him a second thought. I just let him talk.

  "I'm telling you, goddammit! You better leave me alone! There are laws, you know. Laws against invasion of privacy. I could sue your ass off!"

  "There are laws against murder too."

  Zucco grinned. He seemed to enjoy watching the kid act tough, but he'd had his fun for the time being.

  "Relax, Tommy," he said. "Dugan and I were just finishing our little talk." His head turned, his eyes boring into mine. "I think he realizes Langdon Springs isn't a very healthy climate for him. Don't you, Dugan?"

  "It is getting a little stuffy," I agreed.

  It was.

  Zucco nodded as if that settled matters. "All right, then. Thanks for dropping by. Charlie, show Mr. Dugan out. I'm sure he's got things to do and places to be." He looked at me one more time. "Right?"

  There was movement behind me and I could hear Charlie opening the door and standing beside it. There didn't seem much percentage right then in pushing matters, so I gave Zucco a nod, said goodnight like a gentleman, totally ignored Tommy, and turned and walked out. Charlie slipped me the .44 as I passed and it was safely out of sight by the time I moved into the foyer, the door closing after me.

  The pretty dumb bunny was nowhere in sight; she must have been seating someone. I entered the restaurant, crossed it. There was no sign of the Chief either, and that didn't bother me in the least.

  My red-haired Amazon was just finishing a scotch on the rocks when I walked up to her in the bar, and a good looking, well-built guy was moving away from her with a disappointed look on his face. Helen looked back at me and gave what sounded suspiciously like a giggle.

  "That was fun; I almost got picked up. You men sure are ego-builders. I feel like new already."

  I shook my head. "What a flirt."

  "It didn't get very far. I told him that my husband and I were friends of the owner and that we were just spending the night in town before your wrestling match tomorrow night in Denver." She hiccupped slightly, stood up and reached for her purse. "Well, Bruiser, ready to go?"

  I pulled out three bills, laid them out on the bar next to her glass, and steered her toward the door.

  "We're ready," I said, and under my breath, "Bruiser, huh? Christ!"

  We passed the guy who'd been making the moves on her. He tried to pretend he didn't see us, especially me, but he was shaking like he had the St. Vitus dance, and the elbow Helen gave me in the ribs as we moved by didn't do a thing to help me maintain a straight face.

  We were laughing out loud about it by the time we reached and crossed the foyer one last time on our way out. The hostess was back at her post this time and I even gave her a little smile and a wave to go with it, the drama and the threats back in Zucco's office almost forgotten, at least for the time being.

  But it didn't stay that way for long.

  The fact that I was up to my ears in a double murder investigation was brought home with a vengeance before we even reached the car.

  Life is always throwing her little curves when you least expect them, and this one was a lulu.

  "Dugan...over here."

  I turned. I didn't recognize the voice, but I could tell where it was coming from, beyond the main light along the side of the club.

  I said to Helen, "Wait here," and drifted over.

  It was Chief Medwick, and I hadn't recognized the voice because it had only been a harsh whisper. But when he spoke now it was at his normal level, and the words were as cold as I remembered his eyes.

  "You and me got a score to settle, Dugan. I don't like guys popping off to me, especially in front of witnesses. It can play hell with a guy's reputation."

  I stood before him, but not too close. "Back to handling Zucco's dirty work, eh, Chief?"

  He shook his head. "And drop that Chief shit. This is just between you and me, bastard."

  "I'll drop the Chief shit if you drop the badge," I said. "I'm not about to get into a brawl with the law. I'm a little smarter than that."

  He nodded. He reminded me of a mountain lion getting ready to strike.

  "Okay," he said. "The badge goes." He reached into his back pocket.

  I should have been ready and as it was I handled it all right. But the big sonuvabitch still caught me by surprise. All that came out of that back pocket was an old fashioned leather sap, and he was moving in on me with a loud exhalation of breath even before the thing was fully in view.

  I don't know what he had in mind, exactly. Generally, of course, he planned on beating the crap out of me, or worse. But there was no organization to it. He just came in low and fast, one beefy hand going around my throat, his momentum carrying us both back a few steps until I tripped. Helen's frightened, startled whimper from somewhere behind and above us was practically lost on me as we both toppled to the ground, Medwick on top, both of us gasping for air.

  I was pretty startled myself.

  I tried to grasp his wrist but it didn't do any good. The fingers tightened around my gullet like a vise and the blood was already pounding through my ears.

  "Now, you cocksucker!" I heard him say, and I sensed rather than saw him raise the blackjack over his head. I jerked aside and the thing slammed dully into the turf fractions of an inch from my temple. Drips of saliva splattered down on me. He raised his arm again.

  I gave up trying to work his fingers loose. You can't miss a head more than once at a range like that and I've seen what a blackjack can do to a guy's face.

  It was time to change strategy.

  I used an old stunt trick. For just a fraction of a moment I went limp. Then I went into a reverse somersault. The somersault worked, slamming all three hundred pounds of Chief Clarence Medwick over my head. He lost his g
rip on my twisted throat and suddenly we were two people again. I was surprised I hadn't thought of the move before—but the important thing was that I had, finally.

  I pushed up and turned in a ready crouch, and saw that the Chief was just a little slower in recovering. But he was coming out of it just the same, fast, and as I turned he spotted what he was looking for. He snarled something and leaned over, reaching out, and he almost had his hands back around the sap when I moved in.

  A stuntman lifts his tricks wherever he can find them. The somersault bit came from an acrobat I once knew. The next move was from an old friend who taught Kung Fu out in Beverly Hills. I don't think he would have approved technically of my next maneuver but right then I didn't really care. All that mattered then was that it worked. And when you're up against a mountain of a man with a sap and blind hatred, what else should matter?

  Afterwards I had to admit that the thing went awfully smooth, as if the two of us were almost working together; as if someone had choreographed us.

  He was bent over and had just clasped the sap. I came in, balanced on my left foot, brought up my right, and the toe of the shoe caught him in the wrist. I heard bone snap, the sap fell, and he straightened up with a ragged intake of breath.

  But I wasn't finished.

  I let my own momentum carry me around in a full circle, at first continuing the pivot on my left leg and then switching to my right, so that when I came around to face him again it was the left foot that went into action. He was just standing there, having just come erect from the first blow, waiting for me. But he didn't wait for long. I cocked the leg up, the bent knee almost at mid chest level, and let him have the bottom of my ten-and-a-half smack in the belly. And that was that.

  The blow carried everything I had and sent him tottering back, sprawling into a disorganized pile on his back, and when he landed he stayed landed.

  The Chief was out for the count.

  I wasn't exactly in the shape I should have been, but I knew I could take a few seconds to catch my breath after I saw how still he was. Then, as Helen came up to stand next to me, I bent over, picked up the little black leather sap that had been the cause of all our troubles, and hurled it as far as I could into the darkness, in the general direction of the golf course.

  "A gift for some lucky caddy," I said.

  But she wasn't listening. Her eyes were glued to the beached whale at our feet.

  "Jesus! And I thought you were looking for trouble when you were talking to him..."

  I wiped some of his spit away from my face with the back of a sleeve.

  "I don't give anything that isn't asked for."

  "I know, Rock. He pushed it. But jeez..."

  I turned, took her hand and started for the car. "Let's get out of here. You're right. This would take an awful lot of explaining."

  Apparently the club was in full swing. No one was in sight, coming or going. We crossed to the Toyota, I helped her in, got in my own side, gunned the engine, and got the hell away from there. Chiefs tend to have deputies, and I wasn't sure how close to the boss they might be hanging, or where their interests would lie.

  I slowed down about a half mile away and cruised easily through town, catching Main and traveling northwest, over the bridge, toward the Interstate. About midway I pulled onto the gravel shoulder and slipped into neutral. I turned and looked at the redhead. She'd been quiet all the way.

  "Want to go home?"

  She didn't answer right out.

  She thought about it first. Staring straight ahead, out through the windshield across the endless desolation of the Colorado flatlands, she thought about it hard, worrying a lower lip between her teeth, her fingers brushing each other uneasily in her lap. And then she made her decision. She stopped thinking. The fingers relaxed. And she turned and gave me that smile of hers that made me smile right back.

  "The night's young. I thought you promised me dinner?"

  "I guess I did. Any suggestions?"

  "I suppose we should avoid downtown, right?"

  "I suppose."

  "Okay. There's a Holiday Inn about two miles ahead, just before the Interstate. The food's okay and it's not too busy this time of year. How does that sound?"

  I told her that it sounded great, and slipped the Toyota back into gear.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Langdon Springs was a small town in a small world. We met Dr. Alex Hanley on the sidewalk leading into the restaurant. He was coming out, we were just going in.

  ''Well, Mr. Dugan...Helen..." It was one of those confrontations that have the potential of being more than a bit uncomfortable, but he handled it well. His first reaction, understandably enough, I guess, was surprise in seeing the two of us together at that hour, at that place. But his years as a practicing physician had apparently served up enough surprises so that a quick recovery was second nature to him. A pleasant, sociable smile creased his face and any uncomfortable vibes inherent to the situation were immediately put to rest. "And, uh, how are you enjoying your stay in Langdon Springs?" he asked me amicably. He turned the smile towards Helen. "You certainly seem to be in good company!"

  You could tell that what he really wanted to know was, how was the investigation going; but not knowing how much Helen knew, he let it pass.

  Helen picked up the conversational ball with a smile of her own, one just a little frayed around the edges.

  "We've just completed the twenty-five cent tour," she laughed. "Would you care to join us for a drink?"

  "Oh, no, thank you. It's very tempting, believe me, but I'm on night call at the hospital tonight and I really should be on my way. So...have a nice dinner, you two. Nice seeing you again, Dugan."

  We shook hands.

  "Nice seeing you, Doctor."

  He nodded to the woman. "Helen," he said with a smile, and he was on his way.

  It had only been a sixty second or so exchange, but the redhead sighed wearily as we turned and entered the building.

  I said, "I hope that wasn't too hairy."

  "It wasn't. Dr. Hanley's a good man. Anyone else and I'm sure the gossip mills would have been in full swing by the time we finished dinner." She sighed again. "Poor Dr. Hanley. He and Mr. Court were such close friends..."

  She let the sentence drop, and I didn't bother picking it up.

  If not exactly great, the Holiday Inn restaurant was certainly acceptable. The quietly lighted dining room managed to be somehow comfortable and anonymous at the same time. Probably just what the summer traveler wanted. A place to relax and recharge the body's batteries, but not a place you'd want to stick around; not a place to make you forget where you were going, or where you'd already been.

  As Helen had said, it was the off season, and the only ones in the dining room before us were two other couples and a bored waitress. We took a corner table against a window overlooking the Interstate, studied the menus, and ordered.

  At least I ordered. Helen Bishop just stared at the tablecloth, and shook her head faintly when the waitress asked her.

  "I'll take the steak and lobster," I said, "with a double order of potatoes, and coffee." Then I looked across the table and added, "And she'll have the same, but no double potatoes."

  The girl wrote it down and walked off. Helen looked back at me. "Rock, that wasn't nice."

  "Or economical. But you've got to eat, kid."

  "I—I don't feel like eating." She began playing with her fork. The shock, the full realization, of the events and her actions of the past few hours seemed to all be catching up with her at once. She was losing her spunkiness, and losing it fast.

  "Helen—"

  "Please, Rock...could I just talk? I mean, would you mind...just listening? It's been so long since I've had someone I could...just relate to. Just relax with..."

  Uh-oh.

  The redhead was in the mood to sing the blues...but I wasn't in the mood to listen.

  That probably sounds pretty coldhearted, and I don't mean it to. I'd developed quite a likin
g for Helen Bishop in the short time we'd spent together. It wasn't a sexual attraction in any way—it hadn't been, even when she'd made her inebriated pass at me the night before at the Court place—and I think she realized that. And that's why she felt safe hanging on, tagging along, and why she wanted to tell me her troubles.

  And I wanted to help her if I could. That's why I was letting her join the party. I thought following me around on this thing might give her a little well-needed breathing space. And I wanted to hear her out too. But right then just wasn't the time.

  Christ, I'd just finished taking apart the Chief of Police of the town I was supposed to be working in. The physical effort involved in that task alone had been considerable, but there was more to it than that. There was, what do I do now?

  Obviously it was me alone, against them. Them being just about everyone in power in this burg.

  But even that would have been manageable if I'd had at least one slim lead to go on. One more course of action open to me that I hadn't already followed. But I didn't see where any other channels were open. I'd questioned every person involved in this dizzy, topsy-turvy mess. I'd spoken with all of them. And it was still a mess. Still a maze with no visible way out.

  Still a double whammy mystery to stump the likes of Ellery Queen, Nero Wolfe and Sherlock Holmes combined. Not to mention one very hungry, worn out private eye from Denver.

  But I didn't tell her all of that. As the food came, and as I dug in like a condemned man at his last supper, I said, "All right, Helen. I'm all ears. Where do we begin?"

  She was still playing with her fork, only now she had some food to stab it with. "At the beginning, I guess. My family and George's have known each other for years. We dated all through high school and when he was off at law school in Denver we'd still see each other at least once a month." She smiled wistfully. "Those were fun days. But we never did live together before we were married, the way kids do today. Maybe we should have. Maybe then...I would have found out..."

  I tried to listen. I really did. Hogging down my food like the near-starvation case I was, I did my best. But it just wouldn't take. About every three minutes on the dot I'd realize I hadn't heard a word she was saying and I'd try desperately to pull myself back onto her wavelength. But it was no good. Thirty seconds later I'd be off again, in my own world, just nodding and making the proper grunts and hmmms as she spoke, but otherwise a million miles away.