by Jerry eBooks
He flung me aside. Galloway was closing in. Madden fired and Galloway spun, clutching his shoulder. Joan screamed and ran at Madden.
He swung the gun toward her.
I bellowed something at him and charged. I knocked his shot wild just as he fired at Joan. Then I hit him with all I had. He went headlong down the steps, cracked his head against the hack and lay still.
Joan grabbed my arm as guys came running out of the shadows of the driveway.
“Mike, the gangsters.”
My heart died until I looked closely at them. They were guys who’d worked for Zeke Manners.
“Easy, boys,” I called. “We got Zeke’s killer. You’d better fade so the cops don’t think you did it.”
They looked at Madden, then at Galloway, then at me.
“You’re sure of that, Dolan?” one of them asked.
“If I’m wrong, you always know where you can find me,” I said. “You know Zeke was a good friend of mine.”
The guy who’d spoken nodded.
“Okay, Mike.” He grinned, looking at Joan. “Give us a buzz when you’re gonna be hitched. We’ll send you a present like Zeke would have.”
I looked at Joan, and the little siren’s lips signalled the go-ahead.
“Save it,” I growled. “Don’t make a chump out of me with the cops coming. I’ve got to meet them, tell them to search all the dough at Zeke’s place to find a bill with the imprint of Madden’s shoes. You be the doc you’re pretending to be and do what you can for your brother’s shoulder.
“And get this,” I snapped, “if you give that kiss to anybody else you’ll ride in the back, not the front seat of the hack.”
“Yes, Mike,” she promised.
It sounded kind of good. I guess there are a lot of chumps and simple guys like me. But it’s kind of nice at that, being a chump. After you get used to it I suppose.
TEA PARTY FRAME-UP
Robert Martin
As Joe Bob might say: one girl slap, two coldcocks, bondage, torn stockings, one bookie joint, knives in backs, well-dressed thugs . . . check it out. And don’t let the fact that the bookie joint’s bouncer has a long-time friend who’s a cop get in the way.
It was Saturday afternoon, about a half hour before the first post time, and I was sitting at the bar reading the racing sheets when this girl came in again. She was a nice-looking girl, well-dressed, but she looked a little out of place in a joint like the boss runs. She went over to Harry who sat at a desk in front of the big blackboard. I heard her say, “Twenty dollars on Black Boy—to place.”
Harry said, “All right, miss,” and he punched her a ticket and handed it to her. She dug down in her purse and counted out twenty dollars. I noticed that the last two dollars were in halves and quarters. Then she went over and sat down at a table against the wall and ordered a coke. The bartender brought it and she just sat there drinking it and watching the clock on the wall.
I sighed, put down the racing forms, and went over to her. This was part of my job—the part I never liked. But I knew the boss would do it himself if he found out about her—and give me hell besides. I sat down at the table across from her.
She looked at me, startled, and I said, “Take it easy, girlie. I work here. You look like a nice girl, and you shouldn’t be in here. This is the third time, and every time you’ve lost. Black Boy ain’t got a chance. And the other nags you bet on didn’t have a chance, either. Counting today, you’ve lost a hundred and twenty bucks, and you can’t afford it. My boss don’t like people who can’t afford it to come here. So you’d better stay away.”
Her chin came up a little and her pretty eyes flashed. “How do you know I can’t afford it?” she asked.
I didn’t like to do what I did then, but I had to do something to keep her out of the place. Dames like her are poison to the gambling racket. Me and the boss had found that out long ago, and it was part of my job to spot ’em. Maybe this dame was different, but I wasn’t taking any chances. The boss got run out of a town once because a woman lost all her dough, including her baby’s milk money, in his place, and then she went out and jumped in the river. And another time a dame went broke at the crap table and she went straight to her fourth floor walk-up and plastered her brains all over the wall. We had to leave that town, too.
So I reached over and grabbed this girl’s purse before she could do anything about it, and dumped the contents on the table. There was the usual woman’s junk, and a dollar bill, two dimes, three pennies—and three pawn tickets. I put the stuff back in her bag and looked at her. She had her head down and she was crying.
“Sorry, girlie,” I said, “but I had to do it.”
In accepting her invitation to tea he had nothing to lose—except his life!
She kept her head down and she didn’t say anything. I looked at the clock and saw that it was just about time for the first at Belmont. Black Boy was running in that. Harry went over to the ticker and the crowd gathered around, everybody talking loud. And then two guys came pushing through the crowd. One of them was a big, good-looking, well-built guy wearing a straw hat and double-breasted green suit. The other was shorter and older, with a narrow gray face. His mouth was set in a steady grin exposing a too perfect set of false teeth. He was dressed in a heavy baggy brown suit and a felt hat. Both of these guys were strangers to me, so I kept my eye on them. That is part of my job, too.
The big guy waved a fist full of money at Harry and yelled, “Hey, wait a minute! A hundred bucks on Lady Blue.”
The odds on Lady Blue were eight to one. Harry looked at the guy and then at the clock.
“Sorry,” Harry said. “Too late.”
“Too late, hell!” said the big guy. “The race hasn’t started yet. What kind of a gyp joint is this?” Harry turned and looked at the tape, then he looked over at me. I nodded and Harry said, “Okay,” and grabbed the guy’s money and gave him a ticket. Then he went back to the ticker and by the way the tape was coming out I knew that the race was on. In a couple of minutes Harry came out of the crowd and went over to the blackboard and marked up the results. Lady Blue came in first. The big guy laughed out loud, and his ratty-looking pal grinned wider than ever. Harry paid them off, said, “Next time get your bet down sooner.”
The big guy, still laughing, said, “Sure, pal, sure.”
Harry finished marking the results on the board. Black Boy came in seventh. I looked at the girl, then, and she was watching the board, too. I saw her face go white. She picked up her purse, started to get up, and there was a funny look in her eyes.
I said, “Wait a minute, girlie,” but she didn’t seem to hear me. I got up and grabbed her arm and she looked around at me as though she had never seen me before. I took out my roll, counted out a hundred and twenty bucks and held it out to her. She looked at me and then at the money. “No, thanks,” she said.
“Take it,” I said. “It’s the boss’ orders. Only, don’t come back.”
“No,” she said. “You are very kind. But I don’t want the money.”
“Don’t be a sap, girlie,” I said. “You gotta eat.”
“Don’t you worry,” she said. “I’ll eat.” And she smiled faintly at me and turned and walked away.
She was sure a pretty kid and she couldn’t have been over twenty-one or -two. Somehow I liked her looks. Something told me that she was an okay gal, and I had seen lots of dames in the years I had been bumming around. She didn’t look tough, and yet there was a wise look about her eyes. I watched her walk towards the door.
And then this big guy who had won the dough on Lady Blue stopped his laughing long enough to notice her. He headed her off before she made the door and started to talk to her. She tried to push past him, but he held her back with a hand on her arm. She tried to pull away from him and he grabbed her arm tighter and guided her to the door, still talking. She held back and shot a kind of helpless glance around the room. The boss don’t go for that kind of stuff in his place, and I didn’t like the big g
uy’s looks anyway, so I went over.
The guy saw me coming but he didn’t let go of her arm. I spoke to the girl. “Do you know this gentleman?” I asked.
She looked at me, said, “Yes, I know him—” The big guy butted in. He said, “Aren’t you a little out of place?” And he gave me a nasty grin. I said, “Maybe,” and looked him up and down.
The girl pulled her arm free and stood back. “I know him,” she repeated, “but I don’t like him. He bothers me.”
That was what I was waiting for. I said, “Okay,” and I looked at the big guy. “I was going to tell you this anyway. Scram.”
The little bird in the baggy brown suit had shuffled up and was standing there listening.
“You, too,” I said. “I don’t want to see either of you in here again.”
Baggy Pants showed his false teeth. I suppose he thought he was smiling. “Goodness gracious,” he said. “I don’t understand. What have we done, may I ask?”
“I didn’t like the way you bet that horse,” I said. “I didn’t like that and I didn’t like the way you”—I looked at the big guy—“was treating the lady. So get out. Now.”
Still showing his fake grinders the little guy looked up at his pal. “Dear me, Albert,” he said. “I believe the man is serious.”
Albert said, “Yeah. I’m scared.” There was an ugly look on his handsome face. “I wonder if he acts as tough as he talks.”
I figured that I had wasted too much time talking to them already. And I was beginning to get mad. Some of the crowd in the place were starting to look at us. The girl turned to the door. “I’d better go,” she said. “Thank you.”
“No, wait,” I said. I had started this and I had to finish it. I took hold of Baggy Pant’s arm, and gave his big pal a push. “I’m not kidding. Get going.”
Baggy Pant’s thin lips suddenly closed over his shining perfect teeth. “Don’t you dare touch me,” he said in a kind of a hiss, and his hand darted upwards to the inside of his coat.
I slapped him hard across the mouth. He flopped backwards against the wall. A wicked-looking little two-edged knife fell out of his hand and clattered to the floor. The crowd was gathered around behind us now, and some dame lets out a little scream. I swung around at the big guy just about in time. He had already started a right for me, and as I turned I ducked under it and my fist smacked up against his jaw. He went back on his heels. I grabbed him then and pushed him past the check-room and out the door. He landed on the sidewalk on his hands and knees. On my way back in I met Harry pushing the snarling little guy past me. Harry pushed him outside, closed the door and handed me the knife. I took it, said, “Thanks, Harry,” and went over to the girl.
People were crowding around her, asking questions. She saw me coming and pushed her towards me. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I guess I caused you a lot of trouble.”
“Forget it,” I said. “Come on. I’ll take you home.” I figured that the quicker I got her out of there, the better. The boss don’t like any kind of rough stuff in his place, and I was going to have some explaining to do. He hires me to keep things running nice and quiet, but sometimes it is pretty hard to do. I took the girl by the arm and guided her out to the sidewalk. My two pals were nowhere in sight.
“Where do you live?” I said. “How far?”
She gave me an address clear across town, and I said, “We better ride.” We walked to the corner, and in a minute a taxi rolled up, and we got in. I gave the driver the address and then I sat back and looked at the girl.
“My name is Pete Allen,” I said. “Those two guys—friends of yours?”
“No,” she said. “But I know them.”
“Who are they?”
“The big one’s name is Albert Henderson. The other one calls himself Doctor Aterbury.”
“A hell of a looking doctor,” I said. “What do they do? And why do they bother you?”
“I don’t know. But they follow me everywhere I go. It is very embarrassing.”
“Is that all?” It all sounded pretty phony to me, “Just about, except—you’ve been so nice to me—I think I had better tell you this. They knew that Lady Blue had already won that race today—before they placed their bet.”
“I wondered,” I said. “How? Telephone from the track?”
“No. They offered to let me in on it. I refused. They have a shortwave radio set in their car—with an accomplice at the track with a shortwave transmitter. They get the results in a minute or two before it comes over your ticker.”
“Oh,” I said. I had heard of that racket before, but it never had been pulled on the boss. The boss is too easy. He’s a straight guy and he thinks everybody else is, too. But I decided that I was going to make Harry use the deadline bell from now on.
I looked at the girl. “What are you going to do now? Do you have a job?”
She was staring straight ahead, and I saw her jaw set stubbornly. “No,” she said. “But I’m going to get one—now. I’ve got to.”
“Come on,” I said. “Break down. Tell me about it. You’ll feel better. Where’s your folks? What’s your name?”
She smiled at me. “I’m sorry,” she said. “You’ve been very nice. But I can’t tell you that. It’s—a personal matter. You can call me Rose—Rose Vaughn.”
Now, I’m just a big pile of beef with a good appetite and a healthy conscience. I’ve knocked around a lot and I’ve seen all kinds of dames in all kinds of places, but I had never seen one just like this babe before. There was something about her I liked—and a lot I couldn’t understand. It is part of my job to spot the phonies from the real thing, and it seemed to me that this girl had the stuff—all the way through. And yet I wasn’t sure. Her clothes were good, expensive, and she wore them with a careless air as though she was used to them. And yet I knew she was broke. And I noticed that beneath her short black dress a tear in the sheer silk covering of one leg was neatly stitched together, and the high heels of her shoes were slightly run over. I noticed little things like that, and I noticed too that her makeup was just right—not too heavy; and when she smiled she showed straight, even teeth. She had clear blue eyes and wore her black hair in a long curling bob. I liked her looks, all right.
“Okay, Rose,” I said. “I’m just a plain guy, no frills, but if I can do anything for you, let me know.”
The taxi had stopped in front of a shabby-looking brownstone building and she got out. “Thank you,” she smiled. “I’ll remember that.”
I got out, too, and we stood there on the sidewalk in the afternoon sunshine looking at each other. Suddenly she said, “Look, if you don’t have to get back, why don’t you come up for a minute? I can offer you tea,” she smiled. “Nothing stronger.”
I had heard that people drank tea, and I figured that maybe one cup wouldn’t hurt me. Anyhow there wouldn’t be much doing at the club until later in the afternoon, and I admit that I had taken a shine to this girl. So I said, “Okay, thanks.” And I paid the taxi driver and went in.
It was a pretty crummy looking dump and a girl like her didn’t have any more business living there than I had drinking tea. There was no elevator and we walked up four flights of stairs to her floor and down a stuffy hall. The floor was covered with brown carpet with worn spots in it, like an Irish setter with the mange. We came to her room, she took out a key and unlocked the door and we went in.
It wasn’t much of a room. There was a bed, a couple of chairs, a dressing table and over in the corner was a sink, a small oil stove, and a cabinet for cooking utensils and dishes. Everything was clean, though, and neat. It was hot, too, and she opened a window and a faint breeze blew in. I went over to the window, and I could look straight down Eighth Avenue.
She took off her hat, said, “Sit down,” and she opened the cabinet and took out cups and saucers and a small brown teapot. I sat down in a chair by the window and lit a cigarette. And then somebody began to pound on the door. The girl turned around.
I said, “Expecting
anybody?”
She smiled ruefully. “Only the landlady.”
I said, “Oh,” and went over to the door and unlocked it and started to open it. But before I had it open, somebody on the other side pushed it violently back and two guys came busting in. It was Handsome Henderson and his little pal.
Henderson had a gun in his hand. The little guy turned and locked the door, put the key in the pocket of his baggy suit. Then they both stood and looked at me.
I said, “Hello, boys. Won’t you come in?” And then I looked around at the girl, said, “Nice work—Miss Vaughn, or whatever your name is.” But she wasn’t looking at me, seemed not to have heard me. She stood perfectly still, her eyes glued to the gun in Henderson’s hand. I turned again to the men. “What’s on your mind, boys?”
Henderson said, “Don’t act so cute. We owe you a little something.” I noticed that there was a black and blue mark on his swollen jaw where I had smacked him.
“Okay,” I said. “Lay down that rod and I’ll be glad to oblige you. You can have Weasel Face there for a handicap.”
“Shut up, you fat slob,” said Henderson.
I didn’t like that. I may be big, but I’m not fat—anyhow, not a fat slob. I began to judge the distance between Henderson and me and I tried to decide how much chance I’d have of kicking the gun out of his hand. Baggy Pants must have read my thoughts. He flipped his wrist and suddenly there was a knife in his hand. He stepped quickly up behind me and I felt the point of his knife coming through my coat right over my kidneys.
“Please stand still, sir,” he said. “If you don’t, I may be forced to make a rather hurried incision.” He pressed the knife a little harder.
“My, my,” I said. “A two-knife man.” Henderson stepped up close and rammed his gun in my stomach. There was an ugly look around his mouth. I stood still. With a knife in my back and a gun against my belly there wasn’t much else for me to do. Suddenly Henderson slapped me across the mouth with his left hand. Baggy Pants behind me twisted his knife a little. The point wasn’t in very far, but even at that it didn’t feel very good, and I could feel the back of my shirt getting wet.
