The Snake mh-8

by Mickey Spillane

  There wasn't much left, just charred ruins and the concrete foundation. Fire hoses and the rain had squelched every trace of smoldering except for one tendril of smoke that drifted out of one corner, and I could see the remains of the record player and the lone finger that was her microphone stand. Scattered across the floor were tiny bits of light bouncing back from the shattered mirror that had lined the one wall. But there was nothing else. Whatever had been there was gone now.

  I said, "We can go back now."

  When we were inside Geraldine made us both a drink and stood in the den looking out the window. I let her wait until she was ready to talk, finishing half my drink on the way. Finally she said, "This morning Sue came inside. I... don't know what started it, but she came out openly and accused Mr. Torrence of having killed her mother. She kept saying her mother told her."

  "How could she say her mother told her she was murdered when she was alive to tell her?" I interrupted.

  "I know, I know, but she insisted her mother wrote something and she was going to find it. You know she kept all her mother's old personal things out there."

  "Yes, I saw some of them."

  "Mr. Torrence is in the middle of an important campaign. He was quite angry and wanted this thing settled once and for all, so while Sue was in here he went out and went through her things, trying to prove that there was nothing.

  "Sue must have seen him from upstairs. She came down crying, ran outside, and told him to leave. Neither one of us could quiet her down. She locked herself inside and wouldn't come out and as long as she was there we didn't worry about it. This... wasn't exactly the first time this has happened. We were both used to her outbursts.

  "Late this afternoon Mr. Torrence got a call and had to leave for his office on some campaign matter. It was about two hours later that I happened to look out and saw the smoke. The building was burning from the inside and Sue was still there. The record player was going and when I looked in the window she was doing some crazy kind of dance with one of those big stuffed toys that used to belong to her mother.

  "She wouldn't come out, wouldn't answer me... nothing. I... guess I started screaming. There was a policeman outside the fence, fortunately. He just happened to be there."

  I shook my head. "No, he wasn't. This department was cooperating with the requests of the city police. He was there purposely. Go on."

  "He came in and broke down the door. By that time Sue was almost unconscious, lying there on the floor with the flames shooting up the walls. We dragged her out, got her in the house, and I put her to bed. One of the neighbors saw the flames and called the fire department. They came, but there was nothing to do. The damage was not really important... except now we'll never know what Sue had of her mother's that she was always searching for."

  "Where was Torrence at this time?"

  Slowly, she turned around, fingering, the drink in her hand. "I know what you're thinking, but perhaps twenty minutes before that I spoke to him on the phone. He was in the city."

  "How can you be sure?"

  "Because I spoke to two others in his office on some party matters."

  "Where is he now?"

  "On the way to Albany with some of his constituents. If you want I'll see that he's notified and we'll get him right back."

  "I don't think it's necessary. Can I see Sue?"

  "She'll be asleep. She was totally worn out. She started the fire, you know."

  "I don't."

  "But I do."

  "How?"

  "She told me. She'll tell you too when she's awake."

  "Then we'll awaken her."

  "All right."

  Sue's bedroom was a composite of little girl and grown up. There were framed still pictures of Sally Devon on her dresser and vanity along with some of herself in leotards and ballet costumes. There was another record player here and an almost identical stack of classical L.P.'s. Scattered here and there were toys from another year, mostly fuzzy animals and dolls in dancing clothes.

  She lay in bed like a child, her yellow hair spilling around her face, one arm snuggling an oversized animal whose fur had been partially burned off, the face charred so that it was almost unrecognizable for whatever it was. She smiled dreamily, held the toy close to her, and buried her face against it. Some of the straw was sticking out on one side and she pushed it out of the way.

  I touched her arm. "Sue..."

  She didn't awaken immediately. I spoke her name twice again before she opened her eyes.

  She said, "Hello, Mike."

  "Sue... did you set the fire?"

  "Yes, I was... burning Mother's old papers. I didn't want him to see anything of hers."

  "What happened?"

  She smiled again. "I... don't know. Everything... seemed to start burning. I sort of felt happy then. I didn't care. I sang and danced while it was burning and felt good. That's all I remember."

  "Okay, go back to sleep."

  "Mike..."

  "What?"

  "I'm sorry."

  "That's all right."

  "He'll... put me away or something now, won't he?"

  "I don't think so. It was an accident."

  "Not really it wasn't. I meant it."

  I sat on the edge of the bed and took her hand. She was still in a state of semi-shock and sometimes that's the time when they can say the right thing. I said, "Sue... you remember telling me your mother was killed by the snake?"

  Her eyes drifted away momentarily, then came back to mine. "The snake did it. She said so. The snake would kill her because he had to."

  "Who is the snake, honey?"

  "She said the snake would kill her," she repeated. "I remember." Her eyes started to widen and under my hand her arm grew taut. "She said..."

  But I wouldn't let her talk any more. She was too near the breaking point, so I leaned over and kissed her and the fear left her face as suddenly as it appeared and she smiled.

  "Go back to sleep, honey. I'll see you in the morning."

  "Don't leave, Mike."

  "I'll be around."

  "Please, Mike."

  I winked and stood up. "Sleep, baby, for me."

  "All right, Mike."

  I left a night light on and the door partly open and went back downstairs with Geraldine. I sat back on the couch and took the drink she made me, sipping it slowly.

  Outside the rain slapped at the windows, massaging them with streaky, wet fingers. She turned on the record player, drew the heavy draperies across the windows, and turned out all the lights except one. Then she sat down beside me.

  Only then did she say, "What shall we do, Mike?"

  "Nothing yet."

  "There were reporters out there."

  "What did you tell them?"

  "That it was accidental. It really wasn't too important... just a small outbuilding. If it weren't Mr. Torrence's place it would never draw a mention, but... well, you understand."

  "They won't make much out of it."

  "But if Sue keeps making these accusations... it's an election year, Mike. The campaign for governor of a state is of maximum importance. You know how both parties look at it. This is a key state. From here a governor can go into the White House or at least have a major effect on national policy. If anything... anything at all comes up that can be detrimental to a selected candidate it can be disastrous. This... this business with Sue is getting out of hand."

  "Your bunch knows about it then?"

  She nodded, then took a swallow of her drink. "Yes... in a way it's why I'm here. I've been with Sim Torrence on his other campaigns as much as a guardian for Sue as an assistant to Mr. Torrence. She doesn't realize all this and I've made it a point to keep it almost businesslike, but I do manage to find things for Sue to do and distract this antagonistic attitude she has. All her life she's been trying to emulate her mother... trying to be a showgirl. She's been coached in singing, dancing, the arts given the very best Mr. Torrence can give her. She's taken advantage of those opport
unities, not just to help her into show business but it gets her away from him. Sad, but true."

  "You speculating now?"

  She looked at me over her glass. "No, she's told me that. You can ask her."

  "I believe it."

  "What can we do? It's critical now."

  "I'll think of something."

  "Will you, Mike? We need help badly."

  "You sure love this political crap, don't you?"

  "My life, Mike. I gave my life to it."

  "Hell, you're too young to die. Maybe you should have been born a man."

  "There's a place for women in politics."

  "Bull."

  "You just like them to be women, don't you?"

  "That's what they are."

  "All right. For you I'll be a woman."

  She put her drink down on the coffee table, took mine from my hand and put it next to hers, both unfinished. There was a sudden hunger in her eyes and a warmth to her face that made her mouth seem to blossom into a new fullness. Her fingers went to her throat and one by one she unbuttoned her blouse until it lay oven, then with the slightest shrug of her shoulders it slid away so that her fingers could work more magic with the soft fabric of the bra. She whisked it away and it floated to the floor where it lay unnoticed.

  I looked at her, not touching her, taking in the lovely slope of her breasts that were swelled with emotion and tipped with the firm pinkness of passion. I could smell the fragrant heat of her only inches away, and as I watched, her stomach undulated and moved spasmodically against the waistband of her skirt.

  "How am I... as a woman, Mike?"

  "Lovely," I told her. I reached for her, turned her around, them lay her as she was, half naked, across my lap, my fingers caught in her hair, touching her gently at first, then with firm insistence that made her shudder.

  She raised herself against me, twisting her head, searching for my mouth until she found it, then with a small whimper she was part of me, her lips a ripe, succulent fruit, her tongue an alive, vital organ that was a soul seeking another soul. I let her fall away from me reluctantly, her mouth still working as though it were kissing mine yet, her eyes closed, her breath coming heavily.

  Someplace in the house a clock chimed and a dull rumble of thunder outside echoed it. I let my hand run down the naked expanse of her stomach until the tips of my fingers traced a path across her waist under the skirt. She moaned softly and sucked in her breath so there would be a looseness at her belt. I felt her briefly, kneaded the pliant flesh, then took my hand away.

  Her eyes opened, she smiled once and closed them again. Then she was asleep. It had been a hard day for her too. I held her until I was sure she wouldn't awaken, then raised her, propped a cushion beneath her shoulders, and let her down onto it. I covered her with her blouse and a plaid car blanket that was folded over the back of a chair.

  In the morning she'd feel better. She'd hate me maybe, but then again, maybe not. I went upstairs and checked Sue. She had turned on her side and the oversized stuffed toy was almost crushed beneath her.

  I called a cab in from town, let myself out, and waited, by the gate. The cop on the beat asked me if everything was all right and I told him the women were both asleep and to stay on his toes. He still couldn't read me but with the card I carried he wasn't taking any chances. He saluted cordially and walked off into the darkness.

  Inspector Grebb should have seen that, I thought. He'd flip. He'd sooner I got a boot in the tail.

  When the cab came he didn't want to take me clean into the city so I changed cabs at the George Washington Bridge and gave that driver the address of my new apartment. I started to grin, thinking of what Velda would do if she knew where I was an hour ago. Hell, she never would believe me if I told her the truth anyway, so why say a word? But you can't go through two of those deals in one night and stand up to it. If Velda were there I hoped she was sacked out tight. Right then I needed sleep more than anything I could think of.

  I paid the cab off and went inside. The place was freshly renovated and smelled of paint. I took the automatic elevator to the third floor, found my new apartment at the very end of the hall, and stuck the key in the lock. There was a soft glow from a table lamp at the end of the couch in the living room and a radio was playing softly. From where I stood I could see her stretched out comfortable and laughed to myself. Velda had determination, but sleep had won out. She got the couch and I got the bed this time. Tomorrow she'd sizzle, but she'd still be waiting.

  I went in on the balls of my feet, walking quietly so as not to waken her, but I couldn't help looking at her as I passed. And when I saw her I turned ice cold inside because she wasn't just asleep at all. Somebody had brought something down across her temple turning it into a livid welt that oozed dark blood under her ear into her hairline.

  I grabbed her, said "Velda!" once, then she let out a little meowing sound and her eyes flicked open. She tried to talk but couldn't and it was her eyes that got the message across. I looked up to the side where he stood with one hand holding his belly and the other a gun and he had it pointed right at my head.

  Marv Kania had finally found me.

  His eyes had death in them, his and mine. His belly was bloated and I could smell the stench of a festering wound, the sickening odor of old blood impregnated into cloth. There was a wildness in his face and his mouth was a tight slash that showed all his teeth. Marv Kania was young, but right there he was as old as death itself.

  "I was waiting for you, mister."

  Slowly, I got up. I was going to have to pull against a drawn gun and there wasn't a chance I could make it. He was dying, but the gun in his hand was there with the deft skill of the professional and it never wavered an inch. He let the muzzle drift down from my head until it pointed at my stomach.

  "Right where I got it, man, and there's no coming back after that. Everything inside goes. You'll live a little while and you'll hurt like I hurt. You try to move away from it and I put one more in your head."

  I was thinking fast, wondering how fast I could move away from the shot. He knew what I was going to do and grinned through the pain he felt. Just to let me know I it was no good he made two quick wrist motions to show he still had it and I had it, then he thumbed, the hammer back.

  "The girl. What about her?"

  "What do you care? You'll be dead."

  "What about her?"

  His face was a mask of pain and hate. "I'll tell you what I'm going to do. With her she gets one shot. Same as you. Then I go outside and die. Out in the rain, just so long as I don't die in no crummy room. In the park, that's where I die. I always wanted to die there." His eyes half shut momentarily as a spasm of pain took him, then he snapped them open and grinned, his teeth bare against his gums.

  Velda turned on the couch, whispering my name softly. She must have come in when he was there. He held a gun on her, belted her out, and kept on waiting. Now he was going to kill her along with me.

  "You ready, you bastard?"

  I didn't move. I just stood there hoping Velda could do something while my own body half shielded her from him, hoping she could move fast enough to get the hell out. He saw that too and started to laugh. It was so funny to him with all the hate bottled up inside he laughed even harder as he aimed the rod with every ounce of professional technique he ever had.

  And it was the laugh that did it. The laugh that broke the last thing inside. The laugh that burst the lifeline. He felt it go and his eyes went so wide the whites of them showed the horror he felt because he was still a loser and before he could put that final fraction of pressure on the trigger the gun dropped from his hand and he pitched face down on the floor with a sickening squashing sound as some ghastly, putrescent fluid burst from his belly.

  I picked Velda up, carried her into the bedroom, and washed the blood from her temple. Then I loosened her clothes and pulled the blanket over her before flopping down on the bed beside her.

  Outside I had another dead man at
my feet, but he was going to have to wait until morning.

  Chapter Eight

  Pat was there at nine in the morning. So was Inspector Grebb and Charles Force. Pat's face told me he had, no choice so I threw him a brief nod so he knew I got the picture.

  The police photographers got all the shots they wanted, the body was carried out, Velda had a doctor in with her, and Grebb pointed at a chair for me and sat down himself.

  "You've been a thorn in our side, Hammer," he said pleasantly.

  "Tough."

  "But I think we have you nailed now."

  "For failing to report a body?"

  "It's enough. You don't step that far outside and still get a gun-carrying privilege. It will break you with that fancy agency because they like closed mouths about their operations. They lift your ticket and you're back in the ranks again."

  Charlie Force was standing there with that same old courtroom smile, like his bait had caught the fish. I said, "I warned you, Charlie."

  "Mr. Force, if you don't mind?"

  This time I let him see the kind of grin I had, the one with teeth in it. I said, "Okay, buddy, I'll come to your party, only. I'm bringing my friends. I'm bringing in pressures you never heard of. Get something in your goddamn heads... you're two public servants and all you're looking for is another step up. If you got the idea you'll get it over me you're wrong. Don't think that agency is going to back down a bit. I gave them too much and they're still paying off for it. I'll keep giving them more and more until they can't afford to lose me. The agency is bigger than both you guys and now you're, going to find it out the hard way.

  "As for you, Force, before you were playing in courtrooms I was pushing a legal gun around this town and there are guys I know and friends I made who'd like nothing better than to wipe your nose in a mess. Believe me, buddy, if you ever did one lousy thing in your life... and you can bet your ass you did because everybody does, I'll nail it down and you'll go with it. It won't even be a hard job. But I'll do even better than that to you, kid. I'll pull the stool right out from under you. This little bugger I'm on now is a hot little bugger and it's mine. You get no slice of it at all, I'll make the action and get the yaks."