Shoot The Moon (and more)
Page 17
"I'm not Suzie Stewart."
Shrugged. "I was kind of afraid of that. It was a sucker play, wasn't it."
"I don't know what it was, Smitty."
"Who hired you? Vin?"
"Mr. Thompson, you mean?"
"Yeah, him. Was it him?"
"Yes."
"It's coming slow, but it's coming."
"Smitty?"
"What?"
"Who do you work for?"
"Who do I work for? Well, starting alphabetically, I guess it'd be Ace Insurance, Acme Insurance, Atlas Insurance, Carolina Casualty..."
"No...I mean really. Really."
"Really. Ace Insurance, Acme Insur..."
"I don't get it, then, Smitty."
"Look, Suzie, we'll have to piece it together bit by weary bit, okay?"
"Okay."
"First off, who the hell are you?"
"I'm Susan Wynn, a secretary."
"Well, that's something at least. I can still call you Suzie."
She smiled a nice little smile. Nice even in the dust and dark. "Does it matter to you?" she asked, and I said it didn't.
"Are you going to kiss me, Smitty?"
"Yes, and lots of other things as soon as we get this figured out."
"Kiss me now, Smitty. We may not get it figured out at all."
She was right, so I kissed her and it was fine. The dust and the cobwebs and the blood of somebody dead on my hands and all of it didn't matter. It was fine.
"I hope I get to kiss you a lot more, Suzie. A million times more. I hope sometime next week you and I will be kissing each other in the hot sun on warm white sand somewhere. And since I'd like to be doing that with you next week somewhere, alive, I'm not going to kiss you for a while so we can figure this out and try to save our skins."
But it was too late. She had started to cry and I had to kiss her again, soft and warm and with her tongue touching my teeth lightly and the salty taste of her tears, and then I was touching a white, rose-tipped breast, then kissing it, and her soft young body was all around me on the dusty floor and it was too late. Karen, I thought once, but only once.
"Will we be killed?"
"Shush. I'm thinking."
She held tight to my waist and we lay huddled together in the dirty corner, behind the crates.
"Let's go over it again, slowly," I said, ignoring the dry coat of grime on my lips.
"All right, Smitty."
"Thompson came to you as a representative of the government and asked your help. Very spur of the moment, as it was with me."
"Yes...but how spur of the moment was it, really?"
"Not very. Obviously they've groomed us for our roles for quite some time. I was chosen because Vin knew me and knew I wasn't the biggest hero the world had ever seen, knew I'd probably panic and blow sky high when thrown into a situation like this. And because he thought I could be easily browbeaten into it in the first place. My being a coward was his ace in the hole."
"You're no coward."
"How many heroes do you know of run into the can and puke their guts out?"
"Life isn't a movie, Smitty."
"You call this living?"
"But Smitty, why'd they pick me for this?"
"You have a superficial resemblance to the real Susan Stewart. Who has a superficial resemblance to a girl named Karen, to whom I was almost married. Once. A long time ago."
"Another reason why you were chosen for a leading role?"
"Right. And another reason why you were chosen for yours. You, too, have a superficial resemblance to Karen. Psychological warfare. Your resemblance to my Karen is the mental torture chamber those bastards have planned my breaking point around."
"I'm following this...I guess. But what's it all about?"
"Organized crime or someone involved with it trying to keep Senator Stewart's death a mystery, I assume. Vin and his pals are either in it themselves, or hired by someone who is. Being involved in the murder of said senator makes it follow that they're wanting to kill Susan Stewart, the only witness. I was supposed to be framed for it."
"How?"
"Well, I was set in that room guarding you with a gun loaded with blanks. I suppose that set-up was meant to get me to fire that gun and plaster my hand with power burns and such, which, incidentally, I did. Then my gun, with live ammunition, would be used to kill the real Suzie Stewart - who was probably being held captive in the backseat of the Lincoln they brought me over in - and I'd be set up as the murderer."
"On what motive?"
"Some Mob plant would point out Susan Stewart's resemblance to Karen, and of my mental hang-up about Karen, supported by some stunts I pulled in the service following my getting jilted. And it would be assumed by all that I'd simple wigged out, killed Miss Stewart in the process of losing my marbles over her resemblance to an old love of mine."
"Do you really think they could make that stick in a courtroom?"
"Hell no. They'd have to kill me and make it look like I shot the Stewart girl and then committed suicide or something. No, Hal wasn't about to let me leave that room alive. Vin was used to lure me there; some time was allowed for Vin to get well away; and then Hal came back to do his number."
"What about me?"
"They probably set it up so that various people in the neighborhood saw you going into that building earlier, of your own free will - and then the late Miss Stewart would be substituted for you in the dead of night. I guess. Otherwise I don't really know why they chose to drag somebody else in who they'd just have to get rid of later, but they obviously did. Lives don't mean a hell of a lot to them and to those guys you and me are just two more expendables."
She gripped me tighter and quietly wept into my chest until she fell asleep. I sat and smoked and stroked her hair now and then and kept my shaking hand with the gun in it leveled at the center point between the barricaded doors.
I smoked down to two cigarettes.
I waited.
I tried praying for a while.
Dawn wasn't far off, not more than half an hour.
Suzie woke up and we had the last cigarettes and talked for a while and kissed and made love again and talked for a while longer.
We talked on and on, and she asked what would happen if she got pregnant, and told her it was about the least of our worries at the moment. I got to know her pretty well, don't really have time to tell you all about her; there are things you'll just never be able to know, because you never got to meet her.
She was still holding on to me, tight, when the voices came.
"Hold your fire - police. All is under control. Hold your fire."
I breathed a sigh of relief.
But then how the hell was I to know for sure?
Well, I didn't care. I just didn't care. I'd hold my fire for a moment while I saw if it was really the cops or not, what the hell could that hurt.
They came in and I held my fire.
It was Vin and two others and Vin fired an automatic and a tongue of flame came out of the end of it and settled in Suzie's right breast.
She didn't have time to say anything before she died.
I saw Vin coming at me starting to say something and I remembered what he'd told me and I raised the .32 and aimed.
The bullet went in his forehead and he died much too quickly.
They have left me in this room, unguarded and untied. They figure me too much a coward to make a break for it or try suicide. Or maybe just too unimaginative to kill myself with a bunch of wooden crates. And they think it's amusing to make me share the room with the corpse of a woman whom I might have loved.
Dawn came, went.
They haven't caught me writing on this notepad with this felt-tip yet, unless they know and think it'll keep me out of trouble. I've been writing for hours now and it must be mid-morning. I have to write small but I have to write. I have to get it all said so I can leave it here where someone might find it and go after the men who've done these things.
&nb
sp; One of them came in a while ago, one I hadn't seen before, and asked me some things; in the process, he explained some of it. Most of it came out like Suzie and I had figured, but some of the details would never be revealed to me. Some of it had died with Vin.
I still don't know for sure who these bastards are, but it's safe to say they're with the Mob or something. Hard to tell. Writing so small like this in the dark and all gets my head going off in different directions.
I have to write all the time and not stop much because when I do I look over at Suzie. And she's dead.
A couple of them came in and were arguing about what exactly to do with me. One just wanted me dead, another was still trying to figure a way to use me to cement the cracks Suzie and I made in their plans. I get the feeling we really fouled up things up for them. That's some reward, I guess, but damn little.
I wonder if the real Suzie Stewart is dead or alive?
Not that it really matters. None of it really matters, does it? Not now.
Karen? Is that you, Karen?
No?
Suzie? Suzie.
Hell, I like you better, anyway, Suzie.
They're coming now, Suzie, I hear them in that other room, the one beyond this one, I hear them, Suzie and they're—
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About The Author
Max Allan Collins was named a Grand Master in 2017 by the Mystery Writers of America. He is a three-time winner of the Private Eye Writers of America “Shamus” award, receiving the PWA “Eye” for Life Achievement (2006) and their “Hammer” award for making a major contribution to the private eye genre with the Nathan Heller saga (2012).
His innovative Quarry novels were adapted as a 2016 TV series by Cinemax. His other suspense series include Eliot Ness, Krista Larson, Reeder and Rogers, and the “Disaster” novels. He has completed twelve “Mike Hammer” novels begun by the late Mickey Spillane; his audio novel, Mike Hammer: The Little Death with Stacy Keach, won a 2011 Audie.
For five years, he was sole licensing writer for TV’s CSI: Crime Scene Investigation (and its spin-offs), writing best-selling novels, graphic novels, and video games. His tie-in books have appeared on the USA TODAY and New York Times bestseller lists, including Saving Private Ryan, Air Force One, and American Gangster.
Collins has written and directed four features and two documentaries, including the Lifetime movie "Mommy" (1996) and “Mike Hammer’s Mickey Spillane” (1998); he scripted "The Expert," a 1995 HBO World Premiere and “The Last Lullaby” (2009) from his novel The Last Quarry. His Edgar-nominated play "Eliot Ness: An Untouchable Life" (2004) became a PBS special, and he has co-authored two non-fiction books on Ness, Scarface and the Untouchable (2018) and Eliot Ness and the Mad Butcher (2020).