Too Many Crooks

by Richard S. Prather

  The Diamond Building was seven stories on Main Street, a little more than two blocks past the Red Cross stand, which was the scene of much activity now. I remembered that this was the first day of the Red Cross drive, and I hoped they got a lot of blood. Maybe I could help them there; I knew a lot of hoods who, from my point of view, would be better off with no blood at all.

  I went inside the Diamond Building, took the elevator to the seventh floor and Baron's office, the three rooms of Suite 712 overlooking Main Street. He stood up behind his desk with an uncertain smile on his fleshy, good-looking face when I came in.

  "Mr. Scott," he said soberly, "what actually happened to you?"

  "Some of Norris's men worked me over. Kind of an unsubtle way of telling me to leave town. Also the wrong way."

  He winced, closed his eyes. "I assumed it was Norris." He looked at me for a long time, his brown eyes worried. "Maybe you should leave, Mr. Scott. Perhaps it would be better for all—"

  "Hey," I said. "Wait a shake. A few minutes ago one of the punks told me to blow. Now you. I thought you were on the same side I am, Baron."

  He licked his lips. "I am, of course, but . . . things are worse since you came, not better. I'll tell you the truth. I'm unnerved by all that's happened. I'm frightened."

  "So am I, Baron. But I'm more frightened to see guys like you and Fellows and Prentice and the rest throwing in the towel in the first round."

  He looked unhappy. "I'm not throwing in the towel. But look what happened to you. I don't want anything like that happening to me. I'm more interested in my life than in money. And there seems nothing we can do. Even the police haven't been able to do anything."

  "And that smells mighty strange to me. There ought to be plenty—"

  He interrupted. "It isn't so strange, Mr. Scott. Don't forget, I'm a lawyer. Chief Thurmond's something of a fool at times, but he's doing his best. All he has to act on so far is complaints from Mrs. Whist, you and Dane, and Lilith and myself. The chief told me that all Mrs. Whist had was a vague suspicion. Actually that's all Lilith and I have, nothing concrete. I imagine the same is true of Emmett—I mean as far as anything concrete is concerned, any actual evidence."

  "What about Prentice and Fellows?"

  "Emmett told me about them. But Mr. Prentice has left town. Mr. Fellows claims there was no coercion used against him. As for other evidence—well, I'd rather hoped you'd come up with something."

  "You might say I have, in a roundabout way."

  "I hope so. These men have been clever enough so far."

  "I've seen few people less clever than Norris. Actually, he doesn't impress me as being smart enough to run this whole play here."

  "Perhaps so. But he must be associated with some more intelligent men."

  "I met one of them tonight, but he's no better than the rest. They're all punks after a fast buck and they don't care how they get it. Well, Baron, what are you going to do? You can't wish these guys away. You and Lilith and Dane and me together, plus a few others—together, not singly—could stop these guys in no time. Hell, Baron, you're well known here, respected, influential, and with Lilith Manning's name and what the family name means to this town, the two of you could get the whole town behind you." I got up and paced around for a couple of minutes. Finally, I sat down again. "I didn't mean to blow your ear off, Baron, or make a speech. But it's so damned simple. A little unity, a little pressure, a couple of articles in the Star, and no more trouble."

  He nodded. "I suppose you're right, Scott. Of course you're right."

  "By the way," I said, "what about Lilith? How does she feel?"

  "I don't know. I haven't seen her today. She was quite unhappy about everything yesterday, though. She was thinking about leaving town again, just ignoring this mess. After all, she's never been fond of Seacliff."

  True, I thought. She could take off and say the hell with everything. If the mobs got the beachfront property rezoned, without owning her property, her holdings would go way up in value automatically. I wondered if she'd seriously considered that angle—and perhaps didn't mind the thought a bit. For a moment, I wondered if maybe Baron had toyed with the same idea; I remembered he'd mentioned it the day I'd met him.

  "I'll talk to her," I said.

  "Tonight?"

  I glanced at my watch. It wasn't nine o'clock yet. "Yeah, I suppose she'll be up."

  Baron pursed his lips, thinking. Then apparently he came to a decision and he grinned at me. "Give her the same speech you gave me," he said. He pulled the phone across his desk, dialed, and said, "You have an almost contagious exuberance, Mr. Scott."

  In a moment he said into the phone, "Lilith? Clyde. I've just been talking with Mr. Scott. . . . Yes, he's out of the hospital, in my office now. Well, he's about convinced me we've been acting like ostriches." Baron showed me his large, even teeth again. "I think we should all get together, Lilith, make some positive plans. Perhaps, as Mr. Scott mentioned, some articles in the Star, things along that line. Can you come in?" He listened a moment. "Your place? All right, just a moment."

  He held the phone toward me. "She wants to talk to you."

  I grabbed the phone and said, "Hi."

  Lilith said, "Hello, Mr. Scott. I was awfully sorry to hear you were hurt. I . . . thought you were going to"—she laughed—"keep in touch."

  "Ah . . . yes. I was unavoidably detained. Unfortunately."

  "Are you coming out?"

  "Sure, if it's all right."

  "Of course it's all right. I've been dying to see you. Perhaps we can finish our last conversation."

  "Well, I really want to discuss—"

  "Oh, fiddlesticks," she said pleasantly. "I don't care what you want to discuss. Just come out and see me. We'll think of something to talk about. You know where to find me, don't you?"

  "Sure. Vincent Street."

  "No. I mean you'll find me in the pool, you goose. Come out and join me."

  I blinked, wondering what the hell she figured we were going to talk about.

  "Fine," I said. "Yes, I'll be right out."

  "'Bye. Hurry out."

  I hung up and stood up. "Well, guess I better run," I said. "See how Lilith feels . . . er, how she feels about all this."

  A slight smile appeared on Baron's face, then it went away and he pursed his lips. He said thoughtfully, "I think your best suggestion to me tonight was articles in the Star. Even if it accomplished nothing else, it would awaken people to what's going on. We'd have to be careful about libel, of course. And perhaps a few paid advertisements in the papers—if they didn't carry all we needed in the stories."

  "Yes. Fine idea." This was the kind of talk I wanted to hear from Baron, but I'd have preferred hearing it earlier. Right now I had an urgent appointment and I was raring to keep it. But it was five minutes before I got away. Now that Baron was steamed up, he was a regular fire-eater, spilling over with suggestions.

  Finally, he ran down. "Yes, indeed," he said. "I feel better, thanks to you, Mr. Scott. Actually, I've been undecided up till now. I feel ready for anything."

  So did I, and I told him good night and took off, wondering if I could possibly get Lilith as steamed up as Baron.

  Chapter Eight

  The house was dark when I parked in the driveway, got out, and walked to its rear, but I thought I saw movement at the swimming pool, a flash of white cutting the air above the water. Then I heard a splash. The movement had been Lilith, who, I remembered, had so many interesting movements it was impossible to keep track of them all. Bright moonlight silvered the pool's surface and rippled where Lilith had dived in from the springboard at the pool's far end.

  The canopied garden swing was on the grass near the pool's edge and I walked to it and sat down as Lilith's head broke water and she swam back toward the diving board. I opened my mouth to call to her as she climbed out, then I stopped. I squinted at her. She was a good ten yards away, but the moonlight was bright, and she certainly did look delightful. I thought: I wonder
if . . . but then I shook my head. She'd certainly be wearing some kind of swimsuit. She wouldn't be in there with nothing at all on. No, of course not. But I squinted a bit more energetically.

  She climbed up onto the board, stepped forward, bounced, and performed a perfect swan dive. I put my hands on the seat beneath me, shifted my position slightly, and felt something under my hand. I picked it up. A white blouse. I felt along the seat and found a skirt, nylon stockings, shoes, slip. My throat got a little dry.

  I looked toward the pool, feeling as though I should splash some of that cool water over me, just as Lilith's head appeared six feet from me at the pool's edge.

  "Hi," she said. "You're a sly one. Quiet as a mouse—but I saw you." She laughed. "That swan dive was for you. Like it?"

  "Hello. Yes. Excellent, uh, form. Hello, Lilith."

  "Come on in."

  "No. Can't. I'm all taped up. Bandages and things, you know. Broken rib. Can't. I'd . . . drown."

  "Oh, Shell!" She sounded disappointed. "Oh, what a shame." She leaned forward with her arms on the cement walk, then patted the walk with her hand. "Well, at least sit down here and talk. You did want to talk to me, you said."

  I walked over and sat down gingerly a foot from her.

  "That's better," she said. "Now what do you want to talk about?"

  If the truth be known, I didn't want to talk about anything, but I said, "Same thing I saw Baron about. Getting a little action against these guys trying to gobble up all the property around here. Baron said you were thinking of leaving town."

  "Well, I was. Not very seriously." Her hands rested on the cement between us, but she had leaned away from the pool wall a foot or so, her shoulders out of the water. "Do you think I should stay?" she asked.

  "It's up to you, Lilith. I'll admit these guys aren't pleasant. They're rough ones."

  "Do you want me to stay?"

  "You'd be a big help. Frankly, your name would pull more weight than both Dane's and Baron's."

  "All right. I wasn't really serious about leaving, anyway. I'm even getting to like Seacliff."

  There was some more talk about plans to be made, articles in the Star, and so forth, but it was all somewhat hazy because Lilith occasionally shoved herself a little away from me, then would pull herself back, as if absorbed in the conversation and unconscious of her movements, but I was highly conscious of her movements and practically stone deaf to the conversation.

  From where I sat, it appeared that she was halfway up on the walk by now. And it wouldn't be much longer till I slid into the pool and disappeared among my own bubbles. Finally, she said something that I absolutely did not hear at all. Then, as if from far, far away, I heard her voice. "Shell? Are you listening? Shell?"

  I cleared my throat. "Ah, yes. Look, Lilith, I guess that's about it. Just wanted to know if you were still with us, ready for some action tomorrow."

  "No action tonight?"

  "Well, it's pretty late, everybody's gone home. Time I hit the road myself. Still some things to do."

  "Shell, you can't really be that obtuse. Let's not talk about all the trouble. Let's talk about you and me." She paused. "Let's not talk at all. Wouldn't you like to kiss me?"

  By now she was leaning toward me, her elbows resting on the cement walk and only the lower half of her body in the water, and I was bent so far forward that my fractured rib was going to snap if I moved another inch. I had been completely oblivious of the pain till now, but I suddenly became aware of it like lead boiling in my side. I had somehow got myself worked into an agonized contortion from which I doubted that I could ever move either backward or forward. I hung there thinking, with a great sorrow, that this rib was giving me more trouble than Adam's had, and that even if Lilith wasn't in for a big disappointment, I sure as hell was.

  But Lilith had no idea what was going on in my mind, apparently, because she more than met me halfway, pulling herself up from the water and sliding onto the walk, one arm snaking around my neck and then the other, and her lips found mine with no trouble at all because I didn't give her any trouble. I'm no troublemaker. In fifteen seconds she was dripping all over me, her mouth like an electric vibrator, and my head was throbbing like a warped tom-tom, and it was eight to five that rib was shot.

  She nibbled on my lip for a moment, then moved away from me and blinked. Lilith looked sad. I believe she was disappointed in me.

  After a few seconds she said dully, "How many broken ribs have you got?"

  I felt almost ashamed of myself when I said, "One."

  She stared at me for a moment, then stood up, and you have no idea how that impressed me, sitting there on the damp cement, but she walked away from me to the canopied swing and picked up a large orange towel. She wrapped it around her body, came back, and sat down beside me.

  "How fast do you heal?" she asked.

  "Not nearly as fast as I'd like." I groaned to my feet.

  "Sit down," she said. "Talk to me."

  "Uh-uh, baby. If I get down there again, I'll crack up. I've got to get back to town anyway. There's a dozen things I should be doing."

  "Forget the other eleven."

  I laughed entirely without humor. "Wish I could. Well, so long."

  She walked along with me when I went to the Cad. Before I climbed in, she stepped in front of me and said, "All right, then. Kiss me good night just to show me there aren't any hard feelings."

  "If I—" I didn't finish it. I kissed her instead. Then she stepped back from me and picked up the towel. I got in the car and drove away. There'd been several reasons to dislike Jim Norris before this, but I hated him now.

  I headed toward town and Dane's home, driving slowly through the fog that was drifting in from the sea. By the time I reached Seacliff Drive, I had to use the windshield wipers to keep the glass clear. The lights were on inside Dane's house, the blinds drawn over the bedroom window, and as I turned into the driveway, I saw a dark sedan parked in front. My lights fell full on it, and I noticed something peculiar about it but for the first few seconds I couldn't figure out what it was. I parked and got out of the Cad, wondering who would be visiting Emmett at this hour. For a moment, I stood in the semidarkness and I could hear the car motor out front purring softly. There had been one man in the car, behind the wheel. Then I remembered what had looked strange about it. The car doors on the side next to the house had been open.

  Cold suddenly brushed my spine and alarm jerked through the nerves of my body as I sprinted toward the front of the house, digging for the gun under my coat.

  With the Colt gripped in my right fist I jumped up the steps and over the porch and noticed the door was partly open as I crashed into it. I burst into the house, stumbling slightly, and though a blurred shadow moved near me, I couldn't react for a moment, couldn't turn toward it. Because I saw Dane.

  He was sprawled on the bedroom floor, with his head toward me, but the top of his skull was a gaping, red mass, a raw, ugly splotch of color that matched the ugly red staining the carpet.

  I pulled my eyes away from him, spinning to my left toward the shadowy movement I had sensed more than seen in the fraction of a second before I saw Dane's body. But no one was there. The movement had been reflected in the dresser mirror, and in it now I saw the figure of a man, his gun-weighted fist swinging. In the moment before the blow fell, I recognized his face, and then the gun butt crashed against the side of my head. I staggered forward, my hand brushing against the smooth surface of the wall, uselessly trying to grip it as my knees buckled and gave way beneath me. I sprawled on my hands and knees, the Colt sliding from my fingers, and I tried to swing my body aside to avoid another blow, but I couldn't move. No other blow fell. I heard the thud of running feet, then the sound as they went over the wooden porch and slapped against the walk.

  I strained to move, to get up, but every muscle seemed paralyzed. The gun was a foot from my hand, but I couldn't move to pick it up.

  In another second the paralysis ended. I grabbed the gun an
d got to my feet, sick and shaking, stumbled past Dane's body to the front of the house, and went through the front door as a motor roared and the car's doors slammed. As the car pulled away from the curb, I jumped to the grass behind the house, raising the Colt, and firing three or four quick shots. The car accelerated rapidly and became a blur in the fog. I ran to the Cad, started it, and backed out of the drive fast.

  Barely visible on my left was the faint red glow of the car's taillight, then it swung left and disappeared. I yanked the steering wheel and skidded around the corner where they had turned, almost crashing into the curb as the Cad's tires slid on the fog-dampened asphalt. But the red glow of their taillight was still faintly visible more than a block ahead of me.

  I could feel the steady pressure of the car seat against my back as the Cad's powerful motor pulled the car forward with the speed increasing every second. The light ahead swung right, but I was gaining on them in my faster car, and when I slid around the corner and straightened out, tires screeching, their car was barely a block ahead.

  I'd stuck the gun back in the holster. Now I pulled it out and drove with it resting against the steering wheel. A siren screamed and I flicked my eyes to the rearview mirror and then back to the road ahead. Headlights blazed close behind me and a red spotlight atop the car blinked, its glow flickering over the inside of my car. I kept going, pressing even harder on the accelerator. Ahead of me the taillight swung right and again disappeared. I slammed on the brakes, then let up slightly as the car skidded, pressed them again, and started to turn as a bright white glare flooded the inside of my car from the police car's spotlight behind me. It flicked off, but my eyes were momentarily blinded.

  I felt the car slue sideways on the pavement and I eased off on the brakes, straining my eyes into the gray blur ahead of me, the siren shrieking almost in my ears. I straightened the Cad as the spotlight blinked on and off again and the black police car pulled alongside, edging me into the curb. I had to stop or crash into them.