Great Noir Fiction

by Ed Gorman (ed)

  I opened the door and a cop stood there, his face shining in the darkness. I saw a car out by the curb, with the headlights gleaming cold and brilliant on the road.

  ‘Get some clothes on, Mister Nichols,’ he said. ‘Lieutenant Gant wants you to come along with me.’

  Chapter 16

  We went out to the car. There was nobody inside. The motor was quietly idling and the door on the driver’s side was open. He sure didn’t give a hang about the city paying for his gas. I went around and climbed in and he got in and we slammed our doors at the same time.

  He started up and we went down the street and took the turn at the corner and headed toward Tampa Bay. He drove along through the quiet Southside residential section, his face turned rigidly front.

  ‘Well,’ I said. ‘What’s up?’

  He didn’t answer.

  It makes you feel like hell when they act that way. They get that superior air and I suppose they teach them that. Only I was a taxpayer, at least on the books, and I paid his salary.

  ‘Lieutenant Gant, eh?’

  ‘Look, Mister Nichols. It won’t do you any good to keep asking. I’m not going to tell you anything. Those are my orders, and I reckon I’ll keep them.’

  We turned left on the street along the park by the bay and he stepped it up a bit. You could see the reddish halo of light across the bay, over Tampa. Like a hooded, glass-enclosed Martian city, maybe—or just a pale hell on the not-too-distant horizon.

  The park looked shadowed and quiet.

  Then it changed.

  There were some cars parked along the curb up there. Men were grouped in three or four places and they wore dull uniforms upon which sparks of light winked. Two spotlights were shining a silvery wash down there in the park, focused on the ground just beyond a tremendous live oak. The light was somehow off-white, bringing that odd cast of known green but seen gray to the brain and eye. The two cars were parked down there in the park on the grass.

  We rolled along and he put on the brakes. He scraped the curb with the tires and we stopped.

  ‘Get out, Nichols.’

  I got out and waited, looking across the park where the spotlights were. A man detached himself from a group down there and the group dispersed. The man came along with a kind of head-down shuffle.

  He came along and flipped his hand at me. ‘Something I want you to see, Nichols.’

  It was ominous and I didn’t like it. This Gant was too somber. He motioned to the cop and the cop went around and got behind the wheel of the car and drove off. For a moment Gant and I stood there. The palms along the road sent crazy shadows leaping from the streetlights. ‘Come on,’ Gant said.

  I started along with him, down through the park. There was nobody down there where the spotlights from the police cars shone. I couldn’t see where we were going, because there was a huge bush in the way.

  We came into the beams of the spots. We rounded the bush and Gant looked at me, waiting.

  Well, it was Noel Teece.

  He had been what you might say tom limb from limb. A long streamer of bandage from the cast on his left arm lay tugging and fluttering in the wind, up along the grass. The cast on his arm had been smashed. His eyes were half-open. The bandage had been torn off his face and it was all scabs. He was lying flat on his back, looking up into the dark sky.

  Then I saw how he’d been slit up the middle with a knife, or maybe an axe. I turned and walked behind the bush and was sick.

  When I came back, Gant hadn’t moved. He was standing there, looking at Teece.

  ‘Like a fish,’ he said. ‘Just like a fish.’

  ‘What’d you bring me down here for?’

  ‘Don’t you know?’

  I couldn’t look at him again.

  ‘Go ahead,’ Gant said, ‘Look at him. That’s Noel Teece, Nichols. He’s the man who was down to your place, visiting that Latimer dame. Recognize him?’

  I still couldn’t say anything.

  ‘He’s a little hard to recognize, I admit,’ he went on. ‘But that’s him, all right.’ He turned and looked at me and frowned. ‘Do you say it’s him, Nichols?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Well, make up your mind. We brought you down here just to make sure. Not like there’s two of them running around, dressed the same—and with a broken arm and a patched-up head. What do you say?’

  ‘It might be.’

  ‘ “It might be!” You—’ He paused and rubbed his hand across his face. ‘All right. We’ll bring your wife down here. She saw him, remember?’

  ‘I guess it’s him, all right.’ I still didn’t look down there again. ‘I’m sorry. I don’t know why I said that.’

  ‘Thanks. For nothing.’ He turned and started away, then whirled and came up to me again. ‘Why do you do this? Why do you act this way? Isn’t it enough—?’ He shook his head, breathing hard, real mad.

  I felt like hell. I wanted to help him. But if I helped him, I’d be helping myself right out of that money.

  Then I thought of Radan and it was as if the back of my neck turned to wood. He’d done this, as sure as hell—Radan. So why hadn’t he come to me? If he did do this, he sure would head for me right after, because by now he’d know Teece didn’t have the money. And that was all Radan wanted.

  I could hardly move, the way I felt.

  ‘What’s the matter, Nichols? What’s cooking in that peaceful little mind of yours?’

  ‘If you know who this guy was, why’d you bring me down here? What’s the point of that?’

  ‘Nichols, I wish to God you weren’t what they call a citizen! I’d run you in and I’d work you over.’

  ‘Why don’t you? I’d like to know what you’re getting at. You act like I’ve done something.’

  He went absolutely still. His mouth hung open and his eyes got wide and he shoved his hat back on his head. Then his eyes went normal again. ‘Done something,’ he said. ‘You’re lying, Nichols. You know something. You’re scared. There’s something inside you that’s eating at your guts till you can hardly stand it. It’s going to bust out, too. Wait and see.’

  ‘You think I did this to that guy?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ He turned and walked away again. I went up by him and he turned and stopped me with his hand out. ‘Why don’t you come clean, Nichols? This is getting you no place. What is it you’re trying to hide?’

  ‘You’ve got it wrong. A woman was murdered at my motel. Now you think I’m mixed up in it.’

  ‘We’re running lab tests, Nichols. What are you going to do then? Because I know we’re going to find something. All right, suppose this one killed the Latimer girl. Then who killed him? And why? Why at your place? Why do you act so scared? Why do you lie about things that don’t matter, that couldn’t matter to you? I’ll tell you—it’s because they somehow do matter. Do you know who that dead man is? Noel Teece. Do you know who he was? We know, Nichols. We know all about him, and why he was going to end up this way, for sure. You think it’s going to take long to find out all the rest of it?’

  ‘Who was he?’

  He just made another face and I was plenty sick about the whole thing. ‘You’re damned good at this,’ I said. ‘You’ve got it all straight in your mind, haven’t you? You’ve got the guilt all leveled at me. You can do that fine. What do you do about protecting the public from things like this?’

  He cursed in a soft whisper, watching me. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘You’d say something like that, too. But I’ll tell you—even you, and you know what I’d like nothing better than to do to you, Nichols—even you . . . I have two men stationed by your place all night—just waiting. Know what they’re there for? For your health, Nichols—so you won’t get hurt, because we might be wrong, and you might be right, and that’s the job the way I see it. I have to do that. And it was done because you were a suspect in the killing of that girl, too.’

  Now I saw why Radan hadn’t been around. Radan would be half nuts with wanting to get at me.
I hadn’t seen any guards by the house, but Radan would know. It explained a lot of things. And now what was going to happen when I got home?

  Radan wouldn’t move too quickly; haste could mean a big bill of waste in this instance. He had orders to get the money. He knew I wasn’t going any place with the law barking down my collar. So he would wait until everything was clear. Then he would move in on me, because he knew now that I’d lied to him abut the brief case.

  ‘Nichols?’ Gant said. ‘You aren’t listening.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I said, “What happened to your finger?” ’

  ‘It’s broken.’

  ‘That’s damned enlightening, I mean, how broken?’

  ‘I caught it in a car door.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘What’s that to you?’

  ‘See, Nichols? See what I mean?’

  We stared at each other.

  ‘Nichols, there’s hardly a thing I can ask you about that you don’t get scared and want to run. What is it! God, I’ll bet you can’t bring yourself to tell me about that finger, even. Not the truth. You can’t force yourself to tell me how it got caught in what door, or when, or where? Right?’

  I didn’t say anything. He had me really going. I wanted to pile into him, and I couldn’t. And that was bad, because I knew I was the one who was wrong.

  He was doing his job. He had every right to be this way, and I could see that much of it clear now. And I was withholding the very grains of knowledge he had to have.

  ‘Nichols, all I have to do is ask your wife.’

  My neck got hot. If he asked her, she’d tell him about my going to Chicago. I felt trapped.

  ‘Well?’ he said. ‘Where did you bust your finger?’

  There was a kind of gleeful tone to his voice, as though he was really enjoying this, or maybe a little crazy or something. And I knew he wasn’t enjoying it.

  ‘A car door.’

  ‘ “A car door.” ’

  He turned sharply and started up toward the road, muttering to himself. I watched him go with this tight new feeling of being trapped inside me. If he went to Bess, what then? I hadn’t done anything! I wanted to yell it at him. If he really had anything on me, he’d have to run me in fast. I knew that. So I was all right. I was still ahead of them—’way ahead.

  Only how long would they keep it up?

  All I had to do was tell them. Only I couldn’t tell them a thing, and they didn’t know that. And by keeping my mouth shut and lying, it looked as if I was really mixed up in this. Maybe even committed murder.

  I started on up across the park toward Gant.

  So Vivian was dead, and now Teece, too. And it struck me what Radan might be doing, and I was damned well scared. I wanted to get home . . .

  ‘I’m going to haunt you, Nichols.’

  ‘Listen, if I could help you, I would. There’s nothing I can do to help you. You think I know a lot of things that I don’t. You’re reading a lot into this that isn’t there. I mean it. Why should I want to stand in your way?’

  He turned to a cop standing about ten feet off on the curb. ‘Pete, will you run Mister Nichols home?’

  ‘Listen,’ I said, rapping his arm. ‘You didn’t answer me.’

  He looked at me and grinned. ‘I’m going to haunt you,’ he said. Then he turned and walked off across the park toward where the spotlights were focused.

  ‘Coming, Mister Nichols?’ the cop said.

  ‘Yeah.’

  Way off there toward the Gulf, you could see the pale, gray- pink line of dawn, blurring the horizon.

  I headed for our place in a hurry. I hoped that Gant still had his guards posted. But it could be that Radan would wait to make certain about everything.

  Bess lay there in bed with her eyes closed. But she was awake. Already the gray morning was probing through the Venetian blinds. Still fuzzy with sleep, she sat there on the bed, staring at me, her pale golden hair mussed, and looking as warm and cozy as crackers.

  ‘Wh-what did Gant want in the middle of the night?’

  While I undressed, I told her about Teece, and she put her hand up to her mouth, her eyes round. ‘Roy,’ she said, and her voice broke a little, ‘I’ve had all this on my mind and I can’t stand it . . . ’

  I could feel the sudden tensing behind my solar plexus.

  ‘Will you tell me? Will you?’

  ‘What, Bess?’

  ‘You’re mixed up in something, I know you are. How long do you think I can go along with you like this? You knew that girl, Roy—I know you did.’

  ‘I don’t get you at all.’

  ‘Listen, Roy. I’ve been playing dumb, for your sake. But it can’t go on. I live with you. I love you. I can’t help feeling things—knowing something’s wrong. All I know is this—you’re in trouble and you won’t tell me what kind of trouble.’

  ‘Listen, Bess,’ I said finally, ‘if there was anything I had to tell you, I would. I didn’t know that girl, and I’m not mixed up in anything. Now, just relax, and let’s try to get a little sleep before we have to get up. Huh?’

  She turned over and didn’t answer. I could tell she was mad, and she knew darned well she was right about a lot of things and all of it was eating at her. Just like things were troubling me . . .

  Well, just for now, to hell with them. I was real beat, and I had to get some rest in, because God knew what was coming up in a few hours. Before anything else, I had to check the garage. Just an hour or two of sleep . . .

  Chapter 17

  Maybe when you get in more real trouble than you can handle and get dead beat-out the law of subconscious gravity or something slides the whole load off somewhere. Anyhow, I didn’t know a thing until dark, and Bess brought me some stuff in on a tray, like I was an invalid. It made me feel worse than ever, and now all the things were catching up with me, and I got dressed, and carried the tray out to the kitchen. But I couldn’t eat. I had some black coffee and all the worries were crowding me again.

  I was telling Bess that she should have gotten me up, when someone knocked on the office door up front. I went over and swung it open.

  Gant stood there. He nodded at Bess, who had come up behind me. He gnawed his lower lip and thrust his hands into his pockets. ‘Mind if I step inside your place for a few words? The two of you together?’ He looked carefully at me when he said that.

  ‘Sure.’ I stepped aside and he came in.

  ‘Shall I go make some fresh coffee?’

  We both looked at Bess and Gant smiled pleasantly. He took his hat off. ‘That would be nice. But would you mind waiting a moment?’

  She nodded and her gaze sought mine.

  There was something in the air that I didn’t like. Something smug about Gant and the way he spoke. He walked across the room and stood by the studio couch.

  ‘Sit down,’ he said. ‘There are a couple of things I’d like to clear up.’

  ‘But,’ Bess said. ‘I don’t understand. About what?’

  He smiled. ‘Please, sit down and take it easy.’ And he sat down on the couch and there was this clang!

  He stood up immediately. The clang had come from behind the couch. I knew what it was right off; that Georgia license plate, and my world quietly exploded.

  ‘What could that have been?’ Bess said. She went over by the couch. It had been much too loud to be ignored.

  Gant frowned and stepped away from the couch.

  ‘Let it go,’ I told Bess. ‘Probably just a spring busted.’

  ‘No; it wasn’t that. Here, help me move the couch.’

  Gant frowned and frowned.

  I went over there like a sleepwalker and helped her move the couch. She skinned behind there, up against the wall, and bent over and came up with the plate. ‘Why, it’s a license plate. It slipped through the back, where the lining’s torn.’

  Gant was already halfway over the back of the couch. He snatched it from her and looked at it and started nodding his head. I went acros
s the room and sat down. Bess put one hand against her face and stared at me. She came out from behind the couch and shoved it back with her knee, as easy as anything, and stood there.

  Gant looked at me and sighed. ‘This shouldn’t take long to check, should it, Nichols?’

  I sat there and stared at him. I felt this grin form on my face and I couldn’t erase it. He tapped the plate against his other hand and stepped over to the telephone.

  He called police headquarters and asked them to run an immediate check on that plate and he read the numbers.

  ‘How ever did that get there, Roy?’

  I didn’t bother answering that. Gant hung up and moved to the couch again and sat down. He laid the license plate across his knees. ‘Bright and new, too. Hardly used at all. Odd.’ He patted his pockets and came up with a package of cigarettes. He didn’t offer me one. He took one and lit up.

  Bess watched me closely and I hated seeing the look in her eyes. She didn’t know what was up, but she knew that whatever it was, it was no good.

  ‘Mrs. Nichols, why don’t you go make that coffee you mentioned? I reckon I could go for some. I reckon we all could.’

  ‘Sure thing.’

  ‘We may have a little wait, here.’ He paused and glanced my way, not quite meeting my eyes. ‘All of us.’

  She left the room, her heels smacking the floor.

  ‘Well, Nichols. You want to say anything?’ He had lowered his voice and I liked him for that.

  ‘No.’

  ‘All right. We’ll just wait. You see, Nichols, it’s a funny thing. License plates was exactly what I came to see you about. We checked that New York plate through.’ He shook his head and smiled to himself. ‘Thought we had it all in a hat. Boy, how wrong can you get? Where’d you think it would get you? Never mind, you’d lie like hell, anyway—we’ll find out.’ He shook his head again. ‘That New York plate was owned by people living right here in town, Nichols. They were staying here at your motel a while back and they bought their Florida plate and exchanged them in your garage. Maybe you even helped them, hey?’