by Horace McCoy
IN THE COSMOPOLITE—OUT NOW—
read placards all over town.
Dolan tried to buy five-minute periods on the three radio stations, had offered to pay for a regular fifteen-minute period, but it was no go when he told them what he wanted to talk about. He was in a frenzy of hatred. He wanted everybody in town to know about it. By six o'clock everybody did. People buzzed in the streets, the telephone wires hummed, the press association teletypes were clicking ... Even had an anonymous mob mutilated Arnold Smith it would have been a good story. But when the leaders of the mob were known, when their names were set double-column in a full-page box, it became one hell of a story. In one thrust, Dolan had knocked the town upside down.
... Dolan was alone in the office when he heard a rattle at the back door. He went down and let in Bud McGonagill.
'For God's sake, get out of here,' he said. 'I just come from the courthouse, and Judge Pentland has called a special session of the Grand Jury. They're on their way down now—'
'That's what I wanted,' Dolan said. 'I'll talk to 'em—'
'Put it off until in the morning,' McGonagill said. 'Hide out somewhere. Take time to get your facts straight—'
'My facts are straight. They're all in the magazine. And I've got Smith staked out, too—where I can get him when I want him. We're ready—'
'Mike, for God's sake, I'm trying to tip you off. I ducked because they're making out a subpoena for you right now—don't go around that courthouse tonight. There's no telling what'll happen—'
'Listen, Bud—'
'You mule-headed sonofabitch, you can't appear tonight. Wait until in the morning. Then telephone me and I'll come out with some men and give you protection. You don't seem to understand—you've blasted this town wide open. Hell, you've got people involved you never dreamed of-judges and even a Congressman—you've got to get away from here—'
'All right,' Dolan said finally. 'I'll leave here, but I'm going home. By God, if anybody tries to start anything with me I'll start something with them. I haven't forgotten how to shoot—'
'I don't care where the hell you go—but get out of here. This is the first place they'll come to—'
'All right, Bud. Thanks. You better go now.'
'You swear you're leaving here?'
'Just as soon as I get my coat—'
'And you'll call me first thing in the morning?'
'I swear that, too—'
'Goddam you, why are you grinning? Do you think I'm kidding? Don't you realize Carlisle doesn't care about what the magazine says if he can keep you from talking? He can laugh off that magazine story—'
'The hell he can—'
'—I can't afford to stay any longer, Mike.'
'All right, Bud, go ahead. I don't think you're kidding. I'm going as soon as I get my coat. I was supposed to meet Grissom and Bishop and Myra here at seven o'clock, but I'll leave—'
'So long—'
'So long.'
Dolan watched him go out the back door and then he went upstairs and got his coat. He went into the office and switched on the light and telephoned the new house. Ulysses answered and said Miss Myra was right there.
'Hello, babe,' Dolan said. 'Look. McGonagill was just here, pretty excited by the situation at the courthouse. The Grand Jury is going to have a special session to investigate The Crusaders and he didn't want me to appear tonight... He wants me to wait until tomorrow morning when I can have a bodyguard. How's that—getting up in the world, hunh? ... God, you're worse than he is... What the hell, I'm not scared. I've been waiting for this. So get hold of Bishop and Grissom and tell them not to come back, but meet me at the house. How do you like the new house? ... That's good... Sure, I'm leaving now. Bye, babe—'
He hung up, turned off the lights in the office and went to the front door. He turned off the overhead light and started out the front door when he changed his mind, closed the front door and went back to the rear door.
He opened it and went out, slamming it behind him. He started down the alley to the parking station. At the corner, in the darkness, he stumbled over a small box a little out from the trash pile in the rear of the cheap cafe. When he regained his balance he was against a garbage can that had no lid, and he smelled the sour odour of orange rinds and coffee grounds.
'Sonofabitch!' he exclaimed, not because he had stumbled, but because he had smelled the uncovered garbage. Coffee grounds ... 'This is funny,' he said to himself, and then he heard a rustle behind him, and for no reason that he could understand he was suddenly frightened as he had never been frightened before; wild, animal fright. Before he could move he felt a touch on the brim of his hat in back, and then he knew that something horrible was about to happen, that he was but a rapid heart-beat away from death. The end of the alley and the tiny point of light that meant safety were a million miles away. A cry of terror sprung into his throat, but before he could utter it his ear-drums exploded and the point of light that was the alley rushed towards him with terrifying speed, red and roaring and utterly unstoppable. He knew he was being murdered, and he could think but one thought: Suppose Myra had stopped that day for that cup of coffee?
Then the top of his head flew off, and he fell face downwards across the garbage can, trying to get his fingers up to hold his nose.