The door was suddenly flung wide. The overhead light came on, flooding the room with sharp, ugly brightness. All the shoddiness of the room leaped into clear, harsh detail.
Standing in the doorway with his gun drawn, was a man in the uniform of a Rio Bravo cop.
XIV
THE COP was looking around the room. He was a stocky man with a big nose and pockmarks on his cheeks. He had a sharp pair of eyes.
He turned and called to someone out of sight. His Spanish was heavy with dialect, but I had no trouble understanding him. He said, “Take no chance. Shoot before he shoots you.”
He turned back and looked some more around the room. It was so bare that he had only two places to worry about—a wardrobe standing against the wall to my left, and the space behind the divan. I stayed where I was, praying that he’d check the wardrobe first. If he did, then his back would be to me for just a second. I could use that second.
He stared at the couch, then made a military right face and stalked toward the wardrobe. I moved. I crawled behind the couch until I reached the end close to the room’s lone window. I had no idea what lay below it, and I had no time to find out.
I got up and jumped, feet first.
He shot at me.
I felt the touch of a splinter of wood on my cheek as the edge of the window frame blew to bits. Then I was going feet first into the darkness.
The horrible sensation of falling was the kind you have in dreams. Only in a dream there’s the moment of waking before you land.
I landed. I had only time to take one breath before my feet came down hard on a sloping roof. The drop had been only about six feet, but the shock nearly stopped my heart.
I landed and slid. By the time I realized I was on the porch roof at the rear of the Posada, I was falling again. I lit on my feet in the dirt of the alley, stumbled, and started to run.
The cop upstairs pumped two bullets at me. I heard them both. He stopped shooting and started blowing his whistle. I ran faster.
There was alley and then there was an adobe wall. Behind the wall was a garden sprinkled with fresh manure. Then there was another wall, and on its other side, a chicken run. I hadn’t known chickens could make so much noise in the middle of the night.
Some irate householder blasted at me with a shotgun. I was moving fast when I caught the charge and I felt only one pellet penetrate my skin. After the shotgun, I tangled with a pair of goats, both tethered on short cords.
I said, “Su perdon, compadres,” sneezed at their stench, and ran again.
It was a damned nightmare. I couldn’t believe Rio Bravo had so many backyards littered with manure, livestock, and garbage.
I finally found a street. It was dark and empty. I could hear a siren not far away. Behind me someone was shouting out a window. I rounded a corner and stopped. I was at the far side of the plaza. The siren was behind me and coming fast.
The church bells tolled two.
I muttered, “Lord, here I come,” and ran up the broad sidewalk for the cathedral. I went through the doors and into the solitude of the foyer. I leaned against a wall and tried to find my breath.
Then I started thinking again.
My mind yelled mockingly at me, sucker!
I’d been so damned clever, judging Rosanne to be on the level because she hadn’t turned me in when she had the chance. I’d overlooked the fact that she was smart enough to choose the best place of all—the place where the police could walk in and find me looking as if I were waiting to pick up the money.
I could see a case developing now: my motive for killing Pachuco, revenge and a desire to take over his blackmail business; my motive for killing Calvin, fear that he had learned what I was doing.
It was neat. It wrapped me up tight and tied a square knot in the string. And Rosanne’s pretty, manicured fingers had done it all.
Darling! Darling sucker!
I had time to think now and I laid everything that had happened out in my mind. It was all clear. Calvin had been blackmailing Rosanne. She stood it as long as she could and then hired Pachuco. He came and discovered that Calvin was smuggling weed. And now Rosanne had something to block Calvin with.
But Pachuco saw his chance to cut himself a two way slice. He found out what Calvin had on Rosanne and he knew what she had on Calvin. He would collect from them both.
That’s when Rosanne got hold of me. She didn’t want me because I knew so much about my former partner; she wanted me to be her patsy. She set me up because I had a fine motive for killing Pachuco. And then she let him have her knife right between the ribs. And then she waited for me to be arrested.
Nothing happened. I could imagine her getting panicky after I walked into her office and acted as if Pachuco were still alive. She knew she had to find out what I was up to. So she waited, and then she decided to frame me again, but good this time. She steered me to Calvin and then she tipped the police that I was a murderer. She killed Calvin and took me to see the body. She was real helpful.
And then she set me up perfectly. She let me volunteer to be the bait for her trap. And I was sucker enough to sit and wait until the trap was sprung.
If I’d had enough energy, I’d have kicked myself.
I could smell everything I’d stepped into, fallen into, and got my hands into. After a while I was almost ready to turn myself in if the cops would guarantee me a hot bath.
Thinking of a bath reminded me that my room was just across the plaza. I also thought of Navarro, of his suspicions of Rosanne and of her suspicions of him. I moved and Calvin’s little black book gouged my side. I thought about that too.
A few minutes ago everything had been clear. Now I had remembered a number of things that my theory hadn’t explained. And I remembered that Arden hadn’t made her contact with me. But she was paid by Navarro.
He might have the answer to Arden’s whereabouts. He might have the answer to the rest of my questions. I decided that the church had done all for me that it could.
I opened the church door and walked down the steps and straight across the plaza. I wasn’t challenged. The police probably thought that I had too much sense to expose myself here. But the police didn’t know how little I used the sense I had.
I went to the rear of the hotel and climbed the fire escape. I walked down the hall to the door of my room. I put the key in the lock and turned it. I went inside. I shut the door but I didn’t lock it. I turned on the light. Without Arden, the room had a hollow, empty feel. I picked up the telephone and waited for an answer.
When I got it, I asked for Navarro. He was at the cantina. I was connected almost at once. I said, “This is Blane. You’d better come up here right away. And tell your desk clerk to forget what room this call came from.”
“Si,” he said, as if I’d asked for a cup of coffee. He hung up.
I went into the bathroom, stripped, and showered. I soaped and rinsed and soaped again. By the third round I began to feel a little cleaner. When Navarro arrived, I was in my shorts and hunting for a match to light my cigaret.
He supplied the light. Then he sat down and looked at me and gave out with one of his ripe chuckles.
I said, “What happened when the police came looking for Pachuco’s body?”
“It was in his room,” Navarro said.
“Did you finger me?”
“Señor Blane! I protested the theory of your guilt. I pointed out that anyone could have done this terrible thing.”
I said, “I didn’t think you had, but I wanted to be sure. I think I know who’s behind it. If you’ll give me a few answers, I’ll lay the whole case out for you.”
He beamed at me and lit one of his Havanas. “What little I know, you are welcome to hear.”
I said, “First, where’s Arden?”
He shook his head and frowned. “Did she not go with you?”
I told him about her not showing up. He just shook his head again. I said, “Just why did you want me to check on Rosanne Norton for you?”
“Because I want to find out just why she had you brought here.”
I said, “I know why. She wanted me for a fall guy.” I told him my theory. He listened politely, moving only to take his cigar out of his mouth and give the end a meditative lick.
He said, “It is possible, but I think there is a better reason why the señora Norton is being blackmailed.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised,” I said.
He said, “I think someone found out that she is smuggling aliens.”
My brain opened up and light flooded in. I said, “That’s it!” Now I remembered where I’d come across some of those names on the list in Calvin’s book.
I got the book and showed it to Navarro. “See that—Vasily Hardas? And that, Ludwig Holzkopf? Those names belong to two of the refugees I went broke for a few months ago. These guys are among the men Pachuco milked.”
I stopped suddenly. I said, “Just where do you fit into this?”
Navarro gave another lick to his cigar. “A short while ago I hear a rumor that aliens are crossing the border into the United States from Rio Bravo. This is my city. I do not like there to be even rumors of such things. I am a law abiding citizen.”
I said, “So that’s why you were suspicious of me—because I’d been tangled up with aliens.”
“Both you and Pachuco had been.”
“But you also suspected Rosanne?”
“Because she went to Mexico to see you. But before that, I have a record of a call Pachuco made from the hotel here to Rosanne.”
I said, “Sure, it’s clear enough what he was doing here. After he got through milking those aliens, Pachuco thought of a way to make more money off them. He came here and got in touch with Rosanne and made a deal. He’d supply her with aliens who were willing to pay to get into the United States. She’d do the rest. Then he got the idea that she was crossing him—or maybe he thought he could get more by blackmailing her. Anyway, she killed him.”
“It is possible,” he agreed.
I said, “Just how is she smuggling them?”
Navarro shrugged. “That is what the United States Immigration people sent Miss Kennett to find out.”
If I hadn’t been sitting down, I’d have injured my spine. I said, “Arden—a government agent?”
He smiled. “That is true. Why do you think she had the task of watching you? Clever, was it not?”
I said, “Clever as hell. So that’s why Ignacio is here. He smells a big news story.”
“No,” Navarro said. “He is an agent of the Mexican government. He has been watching this Pachuco for months and he followed him here.”
He licked his cigar again. “Miss Kennett is making only the preliminary investigation, you understand. She must first determine that there is smuggling.”
I said, “I’m pretty sure.”
He nodded. “There is no doubt now. It is the method she seeks.”
I said, “You ought to know that I had no part in it.”
“Both Miss Kennett and I have concluded that. Ignacio is coming around to the same place in his thinking.”
He could have said it in a lot fewer words, but it still sounded good to hear. I said, “Navarro, Rosanne knows that Arden was helping me, and that Amalie was too.” Until I mentioned her name, I’d forgotten about Amalie. Now I realized her part in this. As Nace’s girl friend, she was probably doing a spy job for him. And since he didn’t trust me, he also probably put her to work on me.
And all the time I thought it was my ingrown charm that had given her those calf-eyed looks.
But now it looked as if Blane, the great detective, had been suckered by one more female.
Navarro was gnawing on his cigar. He said, “Miss Kennett is capable of taking care of herself—if she knows that she is in danger.”
I had a sudden empty feeling in my stomach. Now I knew why Arden hadn’t met me at the hotel, and why she hadn’t left a message for me.
I said, “Navarro, you’ve got to get me back across that border.”
XV
NAVARRO SAID that he could get me across the border, all right, but that I’d have to wait until dawn. That was over two hours away. I put up an argument.
Navarro said, “Listen and then decide.” He picked up the phone and called police headquarters in Rio Bravo. He asked the man there what steps were being taken in the hunt for me. As Rio Bravo’s leading citizen, he got a full answer.
Every cop in both towns was on the prowl. If I wasn’t apprehended soon, the cop at the station assured Navarro, they would bring in the military.
I said, “But, damn it, she might be trying to get rid of both those girls right now.”
“I do not think so,” Navarro said. “So far the policy has been to make you guilty of the killings, no? Then if they are to die, it will be in a manner and at a time when you can be thought guilty.”
That was great consolation. I sat on the bed and hated Navarro.
The time finally came. Navarro went away and when he returned, he had one of those pajama suits the Mexican workers wear. He also had a pair of rope-soled sandals and one of the most dilapidated straw sombreros I’d ever seen. He tossed me the lot.
“I also have papers,” he said. “You are going in a truck-load of day agricultural workers. The truck will pass the plaza in a few minutes. Hail it and climb aboard.” He watched critically as I got into the outfit. “Except for your height, you will pass easily. Try not to let yourself be seen too clearly.”
I thanked him, not too graciously, and took off. I went to the far corner of the plaza and stood shivering in the raw pre-dawn cold. A man dressed as I was came and shivered along with me. I mentioned that I had come down from Torreon. He didn’t seem to find that strange. I also said that my name was Angel Del Rio. Those were the facts on my papers.
Finally the truck came. It was a regular cattle hauler and the gate enclosed bed was jammed with shivering obreros. My companion and I swung aboard as the truck slowed. I started worming my way to the middle where there was a little more warmth. Everyone else wanted to be there too, but I had more weight to throw around. I made it.
We reached the border and, cold as I was, I started to sweat. But all we had to do was call our names and wait until they were checked off a list. At the other end of the bridge, the same thing happened. Apparently, on these daily jobs, there wasn’t too much concern. So many men went over and so many would come back. If a few tried to stay, they’d be caught since they didn’t carry the kind of papers to permit them to remain.
The truck started grinding up the hill for Fronteras. I worked my way to the edge of the flatbed and got ready to jump. I caught a man watching me. I gave him some cigarets. I said, “My novia will be surprised to see me, eh, amigo?”
“There is always one of us who needs his woman more than his wages,” he said. “But be sure and be waiting when we return at dark.”
I said that I would. The truck rounded a curve and started past the mouth of Tiburon Street. The man beside me said, “Now!”
I jumped. I lit running and I kept on running. I burrowed my way into the darkness of the Spanish-American quarter and no one behind me made any noise about it that I could hear.
I was almost to Amalie’s when the realization of what I had done hit me like a club across the back of the legs. I stopped running. I said aloud, “Madre de Dios!”
Because now I knew how aliens were smuggled across the border. With her labor agency, Rosanne had a perfect set up. Pachuco could supply her with aliens and she could provide not only the papers—buying them from legitimate Mexican nationals—but she could get labor permits and have places for the aliens to go in the United States. And if they slipped away from their work there, was it her fault?
Now I knew the meaning of the names in Calvin’s little black book. And I knew why he and Pachuco had been tortured. As long as anyone else had the list of names of people she’d smuggled across the line, Rosanne was in danger.
No w
onder Navarro got hot under the collar, I thought. The rumors affected him since he was part of the agency. I had a good idea that he suspected Rosanne was using it, and that he didn’t want to tell anyone and involve his own good name until he was sure.
I gave up thinking about it and started running again. I reached Amalie’s place. This time I didn’t wait to go around to the rear. I tried the front door. It was unlocked. I jerked it open and ran in.
I was hoping against hope that I’d see Amalie tucked safely down in her bed. And there was someone there, all right, but it wasn’t Amalie. It was Nace. As I shut the door, he stood up and snapped on the light. He had a gun in his hand.
He said, “Where is Amalie?”
That one stopped me cold. I said, “That’s what I came back to find out.” He shifted the gun a little. I decided that I’d better start explaining myself before he forgot that I wasn’t as suspicious a character as I had been.
I outlined my theory to him, right down to the method Rosanne must be using. His eyes lighted up. “Tomaso, I believe you have it. That explains what has bothered me.”
I said stupidly, “What?”
He waved that aside. He said, “I think we must first go to the señora Norton’s office. If we are not in time there, we may have to go elsewhere.”
“Wherever we go,” I said, “let’s get started. And put that cannon away.”
He obliged. We went outside to a car he had parked a way up the street. It had American license plates, so I presumed that he’d borrowed it for the night. It was a real hot buggy. We took off down Tiburon Street like a Mexican taxicab. Nace drove Mexico City style. We didn’t slow down until we pulled up behind Rosanne’s car.
I said, “She must still be here.”
“Let’s hope so,” Nace said. His voice had an empty sound to it.
We got out. Nace said, “You make the front door, Tomaso. I will remain here.”
I trotted around to the front. The office was dark but I was in no mood to wait for someone to turn on the lights. I lifted my foot and put it through the glass of the front door. I reached in and turned the latch.
Till Death Do Us Part Page 12