A Killer is Loose

by Gil Brewer

  “He wanted to make it tomorrow,” Angers said. “I told him to bring a flashlight.”

  “Ralph,” Lillian said, “why couldn’t we just call it off till tomorrow? We could—we could go to a hotel or something. Couldn’t we, Ralph, honey?”

  “No, Lil. We’ve really started now. Like I been telling you all along, when we found the place, we’d get at it right away.”

  “Yes, Ralph.” She paused for a moment. It was much lighter out here and I was glad in a way. I could see Angers better. “Ralph,” she said, “I’m hungry. We haven’t eaten since I don’t know when.”

  I knew she wasn’t hungry.

  “Sure, Lil. I could eat a bear myself. We’ll get something to eat.”

  She glanced quickly at me. She was trying to get him someplace, anyplace, where he couldn’t go waving that gun around. I felt she was wrong. He would wave it anyway. And when he got around too many people, he began shooting.

  Tom Bourney finally came along and stopped. He was driving a new sedan, a glistening black. I spotted him as the jovial-salesman type immediately. He was impressed with the address and we looked fresh enough in the clean clothes.

  Bourney was middle-aged, wearing a sport shirt and light-colored slacks. He smiled all the time and he smoked cigars, and he started talking right away, his round face always moving and barking around the long cigar.

  “Well, well. Here we are,” he said, climbing from the car. “Couldn’t get here any sooner,” he said. “Shall we take my car, or—”

  “Yes,” Angers said. “These are some friends. They’ll come along.”

  Angers had the gun in his coat pocket now. He motioned us toward the car, ignoring Bourney. We got into the back seat and he did, too.

  “Why don’t you sit up front?” Bourney said.

  “This is fine,” Angers told him.

  Bourney was plainly confounded. He hadn’t been introduced, he didn’t know who anybody was. He chewed his cigar, standing there, then got in behind the wheel of the car. I wondered how much he’d heard about Ralph Angers.

  “So you say you want to buy some property?” He hunched around, looking at us, chewing the cigar.

  “That’s right,” Angers said.

  “Well, I have-”

  “I know what I want,” Angers said.

  “I see. Well, that’s fine, now. It’s a little dark, of course. Would be better tomorrow. Sure you don’t want to change your mind? I could come around early in the morning. We could go inside and get together on things here tonight. Now, I’ve got some listings I brought along. I suppose you want beach property?”

  “No.”

  Lillian was in the middle, between Angers and me. I could feel her move against me. Her hip snuggled against mine and she placed her hand on mine. Angers sat there, staring at Tom Bourney.

  Bourney scrunched around in the seat and looked at Lillian, his eyes flicking over her legs, and then at me, and he smiled and said, “Of course.”

  Lillian’s skirt was up over her knees. But she was too frightened and too busy thinking to bother about it. Bourney couldn’t keep his eyes off her legs. She did have nice legs and to him this was an eyeful. These rich bastards, he was thinking. Boy, I’ve got it made. You could see it in his eyes, above the rotating cigar. He gave Lillian’s legs another quick, sticky one, then looked at Angers again.

  “You plan to build, is that it?”

  “Yes.”

  “I see. Well, now, folks, suppose we talk this over, just so’s I can kind of get an eye to what you want here, what you need. I’ve got listings, all sorts of listings. You name it, I can handle it. If I can’t get you what—”

  “Look,” Angers said. “Let’s go.”

  “Sure, Mr.— Ah, well. Yes. Hadn’t we better see? Now, here,” he craned his neck, looking at Lillian’s legs again. As he looked, she crossed them and his eyes looked startled. I saw he reacted quickly to what he saw. The cigar burned, smoldering. Smoke filled the car. He looked at Angers again. “Just exactly what are you looking for?” he said.

  “There’s some land for sale down by the park there,” Angers said. He looked at me.

  “Bayside Drive,” I said. “By Coffeepot Bayou, across from the park he means.”

  “Oh, that!” He smoked rapidly. He blinked as he smoked and his face was eternally cheerful. He didn’t dare look at Lillian’s legs any more; it did too much for him. “Where the apartment buildings are? Kennely’s spot, yes.” He chuckled. “Well, surely, now, you don’t want that.”

  “Yes,” Angers said. “Let’s just drive over there, Mr. Bourney.”

  “But-Well. Here, now. Well, I brought a flashlight.” He held up a five-cell flashlight and grinned back at us. Then he turned around in the seat again. “Just a small lot, of course?”

  “No,” Angers said. “There’s about five blocks, I saw. I think I want it all. I want to look at it.”

  “Five blocks. Yes.” He stared blankly back at us. He had to believe it, because nobody smiled or anything. He had to believe it, but he couldn’t. Five blocks, he was thinking. You could see it in his eyes. All that whole stretch of Kennely’s, my good Lord, what a thing! He was talking himself into it. It was the biggest he’d ever had and it scared him.

  “Well,” he said. “Certainly. That is a nice spot.”

  “Suppose we go over there right now,” Angers said. His voice had that matter-of-fact, deadly ring.

  “We better go over there,” I said. “It’s getting late,” I added.

  “Yes, certainly.” He paused, looked squarely at Angers. “You know, of course, what a piece of property like this will cost?”

  Angers had the roll of paper between his knees. He waved his hand. “Never mind the money,” he said. “Show it to us.”

  Bourney was all for it. He reached his hand across the back of the seat, offering Angers his hand. “Well, O.K. We will. Now, I’d like to meet you folks. I’m Tom Bourney, been in town for fifteen years. Fifteen years in real estate, and truthfully, I want to help you. What’s your name?”

  “This is Lillian,” Angers said. “That’s Steve and I’m Ralph Angers.”

  Tom Bourney had his hand stretched out like that. Angers hadn’t moved. I looked at the floor, then at Bourney again.

  Lillian began to tremble again.

  It took a long while to seep through the excitement in Tom Bourney’s brain. He’d heard the name before someplace, and it wasn’t attached to anything good, he knew that You could see him remembering and you could see memory lighting his eyes and you saw when he had the answer.

  He bit hard on the cigar with his hand out.

  “Let’s go,” Angers said.

  I felt sure he knew he’d told the man his name and what it might mean to Bourney. Why had he done it?

  Bourney turned slowly around in the seat and sat there. He took the cigar out of his mouth and dropped it from the window of the car.

  “I’m going to build a hospital,” Angers said. “That’s why I need that stretch of land, Mr. Bourney. It will be perfect for recovering eye patients, too. A nice view of the bay. They’ll be able to sit out on the porches and look at the sky and the bay. Florida. I’m going to transplant eyes, Mr. Bourney. It’s going to be the greatest thing the world has ever heard of. Actual transplanting of eyes, the entire eye, Mr. Bourney.”

  He still hadn’t started the car. He just sat there.

  “Please!” Lillian said. “Please, for God’s sake do like he says!”

  “Let’s go,” Angers said.

  Bourney started the car and sat there. He turned the headlights on.

  “All right,” I said. “You’ve heard, Mr. Bourney. Now, just drive us over there.”

  “I better drop by the office,” he said. All the fine joviality was gone. His voice was meek, almost pleading. “I got to stop by the office,” he said. “First.”

  “No, we’ll go over where I said,” Angers told him.

  Bourney pulled away from the curb and started
driving. I knew how he felt and there was nothing to do about it. Angers sat there with his hand in his pocket, on that gun. He looked straight ahead and I was afraid Lillian was going to begin crying again. I didn’t want that. There was enough strain without that.

  And all the time there was Ruby. I wasn’t numb; it just became worse and worse all the while.

  “I know what,” Bourney said, driving toward town, away from the bay. “I’ll run over to Kennely’s place. I know right where he lives. We’ll tell him about it. You see, he has that location, it’s his. He should really handle it.”

  “Turn around,” Angers said. “You’re going in the wrong direction. We’re wasting time. I don’t want to waste any more time. You’re all alike. Damned fools. It’s beginning to get me down.”

  He was winding up like a clock.

  “You’re a real-estate man,” Angers said. “And that’s all I need. Now, turn around.”

  Bourney slowed the car, backed into a drive, and turned around, and we started off toward the bay. You could feel his terror.

  We drew up alongside the park. The stretch of land Angers had been speaking of was right across the street. Bourney didn’t move. He held to the wheel and sat there, staring straight ahead.

  “Get your flashlight,” Angers said. “I want to take a good look at this.”

  Nobody moved. Lillian tightened her grip on my hand and her hand was cold and sweaty again. She felt cold all over.

  “Here,” Bourney said.

  He held the flashlight over the back of the seat, without turning around. “You take it. I won’t get out, I’ll wait here. I’ll run over some of these listings, case you don’t want this.”

  “Come on and bring the flash,” Angers said. “Steve, open your door. Let’s go.”

  I opened the door and Lillian got out after me. Angers was right behind us with the gun in his hand now.

  “Come on, Mr. Bourney,” he said.

  Bourney didn’t look up. He opened his door and climbed out with the flashlight in his hand. He looked like hell under the street lights. He was perspiring, the water was streaming from every pore in his body. He was a wreck. His face seemed to have aged in these past few moments, his eyes and mouth haggard and forlorn. He was so entirely overcome with fright he could hardly stand.

  He grabbed my arm. “Please,” he said. “You’re a right guy. Tell him to let me go. And she—” He shrank back against the car, his eyes batting around, watching all of us. His face was as pale as Angers’.

  “I’ve got to get home,” he said. “My wife won’t know where I am.”

  A car went swiftly by on the street and he turned wildly toward it, holding himself against his car.

  “Across the street,” Angers said. “Come on.”

  Bourney started walking around the car. He started across the street with the flashlight in one hand. We all went across the street. Angers carried his big roll of blueprints and the gun.

  We stood on the sidewalk in front of the immense “For Sale” sign with Kennely’s name on it.

  “There you are,” Bourney said. “Right there.”

  He wouldn’t look at any of us now. He couldn’t bring himself to.

  “This is something,” Angers said. “This looks good.” He turned to me. “Steve, just look over there at the park and the bay. It’s perfect.”

  “I’m glad.”

  “Yes, pal, this looks as if it might be it. Here,” he said, turning to Bourney. “Shine that light. Let’s go in here and look around.”

  Bourney seemed to shrink from going in there. He didn’t actually move, but you could feel it. I felt the same way, and Lillian said, “Can I wait here, Ralph, honey?”

  “No. We’ll all go in there,” Angers said.

  It was a jungle. The grass was waist-high and trees of all kinds grew in wild jungle havoc on the property. Somebody had probably bought this many, many years ago and hung onto it, not selling. The city had sprung up all around it. Now they wanted to sell and it was really something to see. To the right it ended in a forest that pushed right up against the street across from the dark, gleaming waters of the bayou. Far down to the left, blocks distant, were large apartment buildings looming against the sky. They were closed down now, for the summer months. All around it was dark, save for the street lights, which wouldn’t help in there. Nothing could be seen through the trees toward the other side of the property. It was dark, dreary, dismal, and frightening.

  “We’ll look it over now,” Angers said. “I want to make up my mind tonight.”

  “I’m not going in there,” Bourney said. “Snakes. I’m not going in, I tell you.”

  “Sure,” Angers said. “Pal, take that light from the man and bring him along. We’re going to look around.”

  I took the flash from Bourney’s listless fingers.

  “You want to get me in there,” he said. “That’s what you want.”

  I looked at him. Even the way things were, I didn’t like him. He had no more guts than a snail and he was likely to talk himself straight into trouble. I didn’t want that to happen.

  “I’ll—I’ll tear my stockings,” Lillian said.

  I looked at her, trying to warn her. She should know better than to antagonize the guy. But she couldn’t help it, I knew. It was getting too much for me, too.

  Bourney started walking straight into the grass. We all moved along after him, me with the light. I flashed it around as best I could and I hoped Angers was seeing what he wanted. It was brighter in here than I had supposed. The moon was blossoming in the sky and everything was a cold-looking gray. But I kept the light lit just the same. Angers was close to Lillian and me and Bourney walked stolidly through the grass and into the trees. Where the trees were, there wasn’t so much grass.

  “Can’t see much,” Angers said. “Let’s walk through to the other side. How wide is this?” he asked Bourney.

  “I don’t know.”

  “What’s the price?” Angers asked him.

  Bourney turned and looked at us. He looked as crazy as Angers sometimes did. His eyes had that crazy look, as if he was haunted.

  “My cigars are back in the car,” he said. “I’ve got to have a cigar.” His mouth got crafty. “I couldn’t go along without a smoke.”

  Angers stepped up close to him, reached out, and pulled a cigar from the man’s shirt pocket. He jammed it at Bourney’s mouth and it stuck there.

  Bourney reached into his pocket, brought out a lighter, lit up. He blew smoke skyward and the crafty look was all through him. It began to shine from his eyes. We were in the middle of the property now, standing under some young oak trees that dripped a scattering of moss. All around us the crickets chirped.

  “Going to build a hospital, eh?”

  “That’s right,” Angers said. He seemed suddenly pleased.

  “Good place for a hospital,” Bourney said. He drew on his cigar, puffing smoke.

  Lillian stepped over closer to me, watching. She glanced at me and shook her head, puzzled. I didn’t like the way Bourney was acting. Lillian’s hand found mine, squeezed, went away again.

  “It’s going to be wonderful,” Angers said. “These are the blueprints.” He tapped the roll of paper with the gun muzzle.

  “Well, well,” Bourney said. Some of the perspiration on his face was beginning to dry. “Well, well,” he said. “A hospital. Think of it.”

  Angers looked at him.

  “All you folks going to build hospitals, huh?”

  I got it. He was assuming we would play along with him. He was going to humor this guy. That’s what he was going to do. He’d heard Angers was batty, so he’d worked up his nerve and he was going to play along with it. I looked at him, trying to warn him, knowing how useless it was.

  “Y’know, that’s a smart move, building a hospital out here. Nice, eh?” He smoked. Angers watched him.

  “Hadn’t we better look around some more?” Lillian said.

  “No,” Angers said. “Just wa
it a minute. Mr. Bourney interests me.”

  Bourney sensed something.

  “Go on, Mr. Bourney,” Angers said. “Tell me some more about it, will you?”

  Bourney shrugged. “Just I think it’s a fine idea. I really do.”

  “They sent you, didn’t they?” Angers said flatly.

  “Sent me?”

  “They sent you after me, didn’t they? They thought you could stop me, didn’t they? With your talk.”

  “Ralph,” I said. “This is the real-estate man, remember?”

  “Sure, pal. I remember a lot of things. That’s what they told me back there. ‘Go home, Ralph—sleep it off,’ they told me. ‘Take a rest, Ralph.’ They didn’t want me around, because they knew I was the one man who could get it done—get that hospital built. See?”

  “Oh, please,” Lillian said. It came past her lips, a prayer. “Ralph,” she said, “let’s look around.”

  “We are,” Angers said softly.

  “Maybe that’s what you should do,” Bourney said. “Why don’t you sleep on it tonight? We could come back in the morning. You can’t build a hospital—”

  The gun exploded. Twice, three times it roared in the darkness. I’d had the flashlight on Bourney, turning it there inadvertently as he spoke. A slug caught him in the head, the other two in the chest, and he sat down with the cigar in his mouth, and died.

  Chapter Seventeen

  THE ECHO of the shots struck the apartment buildings down there and rattled back into the night. The sound rippled out across the park and the bay and then it was quite still. The crickets had ceased. Then slowly, one by one, they picked up their chorus again.

  “Let’s go back to the car,” Angers said. “There’s no use standing around here.”

  Lillian was looking down at the dead man. She had both hands to her face and it was as if she couldn’t bring her gaze away from down there.

  The cigar smoldered in the grass.

  “Bring the flashlight, pal. We might need it.” He didn’t look at Bourney, lying there on the grass. It made you want to do something, but there wasn’t anything you could do. Unless you were anxious to be there with Bourney. The gun dangled from Angers’ arm like an extra hand.