by Ed Lacy
“You got a sense of humor, or you must be drinking better stuff than we serve here,” the barkeep said, trying to grin. “Only time I ever seen Mr. Franklin was in the papers. I don't...”
“Can that crap for the winter. Don't forget, 135th Street and the Hudson, eight-thirty sharp.” I walked toward the door.
“Joke be on you if I kept this yard and...”
“Some joke—it would simply slay you!” I said, walking out.
I changed cabs at 124th Street, to be on the safe side, and when I got to be boatyard it was nearly five and all the people in the world seemed to be pouring out of the Polo Grounds. I finally pushed my way through the crowd, reached the boat. Bobo was sitting on the deck and one look at his sad face and I knew everything was screwed up. “Hal, the girl... Laurie... she gave me the slip!”
“When?”
“Couple hours ago. Said she was hungry and wanted a hot dog. Didn't see no harm in letting her go—hot-dog stand is right by the parking place and... didn't think she was trying to get away.”
“Oh, Christ!”
“Been trying to get you at the office. Didn't know what to do, thought it best I waited here. Sorry I messed up but...”
There wasn't any point in bawling out Bobo—I had to find Laurie and fast. Now that I'd tipped my hand to Franklin, it was death for either of us if he could find us. Although why Laurie wanted to take a powder...?
I jammed some money into Bobo's mitt, told him, “Take a cab up to her house. Try Mrs. Brody's, the tennis courts, and bring Laurie back, even if you have to slug her to do it The 'Cat's' out of the bag—and I mean 'Cat' Franklin.”
We ran out of the boatyard, into the stream of baseball fans. Getting a cab was as easy as finding uranium. At 155th Street we saw an empty one. Another guy beat us to it; we pushed in as the guy said, “Hey, I saw this first, what's...”
“Emergency, Mac!” Bobo growled. The guy took a fast look at the battered puss, backed out, saying, “If it's an emergency...”
At 145th Street I dropped off and was about to hail another cab, when I decided to call Margrita. For all I know, Franklin already had Laurie.
I called from a drugstore and when Margrita answered, I said, “Marion—this is Hal Darling. Listen, I'm in a big rush —have you seen Franklin in the last couple hours?”
“No. May see him at the club tonight. He usually drops in and...”
“There's a girl missing—a Laurie Shelton. Can't go into details now, but finding her can mean her life or death. Do me a favor, try to see Franklin at once, nosy around, see if he has the girl. If he acts like he has, call me quick.” I gave her the phone number of the boatyard.
“If it's that important, I'll skip supper and...”
“Honey, if things work out, you'll be off the hook for good after tonight. Got that number? Call me as soon as you learn anything. And thanks.”
I got a cab, told the driver to take me across the George Washington Bridge. There was only one place Laurie would have gone—to beat me to the dough.
“Hey, that's New Jersey, mister,” the cabbie said.
“Get going and here's a bonus, if you make it fast.” I tossed one of the hundred-buck bills at him. If he didn't cash it till morning he might be able to keep it.
He eyed the bill and gave his car the gas at the same time. He got me to the fishing shack in less than twenty minutes. I told him to wait.
The fence door was open and Laurie was sitting at the table, staring at the empty metal gadget box. When she saw me, she rushed into my arms, crying, “Hal, Hal, I've lost it.” She started to weep.
“It's okay, everything's okay,” I said, feeling good all over at having her in my arms once more.
“Hal, I... I... lied about the money. I wanted to turn it over to the police before we both got into trouble, or send it in a plain envelope back to the bank... but somebody...”
“I have it.”
She broke away from me, her face turning pink with embarrassment. “You? Then—you knew I was lying all the time?”
“Sure,” I said, pulling her into my arms again, tasting the salt of her tears on my lips.
“How can I ever explain it to you, Hal? I didn't mean to lie, but... I couldn't tell you about...”
“It's all right, Laurie. Forget it.”
“I feel so... so cheap and dirty, so...”
“Honey, don't talk about it.”
“Last night, even then I lied, in your arms I cheated, held back... and all the time you knew...”
I shook her. “Laurie, I've found you again, that's all that matters. You'd been penny-pinching all your life and here was fifteen grand you stumbled upon. Hell, anybody would think twice about giving it up. I sure would.”
“Hal, it was so rotten not to tell you....”
“Nuts. We rushed things so, you didn't have much chance to think it out. Don't be ashamed—everyone has a bit of larceny in them.”
“Hal, you're so good!” she said, kissing me wildly.
I kissed her back, wondering if she really was going to return the dough... and not caring too much one way or the other. Pressing her face into my shirt to dry the tears, I told her, “Laurie, forget the tears. You thought your pop had merely dipped into the till...”
“And he must have done it because I nagged him. I feel so...”
“Honey, he didn't know it either, but this dough is the hottest green in the U.S.A.! In a few hours I'm going to deliver the killer to the cops, get everything squared away. We got work to do, so stop the tears and come on.”
“Hal, if you only knew how miserable and ashamed I feel about this, starting off our life together with a lie... and what a relief it is to have it off my mind now.”
“If it will make you feel better, be miserable—but later. Got a cab waiting outside. Don't talk about it in the cab.”
I told the cabbie to stop at the first decent restaurant we passed, and we left him there and had supper. I was careful not to eat much as I told Laurie about Franklin, how her pop and Brody had robbed the safe deposit box, and how I was going to trap the “Cat”... but I didn't say what I had in mind for Franklin.”
8
AT SIX-THIRTY I called Saltz, was told he'd gone home. I got his home phone and when I heard his harsh voice, I said, “Saltz, this is Darling. Be at the dock at 135th Street and the Hudson River tonight at nine sharp. Don't screw up, be there at...”
“What for, we going on a moonlight cruise, Darling?”
“Cut the corn, you big ox. Be there exactly at nine and I'll bring you Anita's killer. Also the guy who killed those two bank men, Shelton and Brody. And if you go to a house at...” I had to stop and think for a second, before I could remember Louise's exact address—that seemed a year ago, although it was less than forty-eight hours.
When I gave Saltz the address and apartment number, he said, “What's the end of this pipe dream?”
“A package deal—another body. Girl named Louise. Same guy slit her throat yesterday morning and...”
“Darling, you drunk?”
“Be at the dock at nine, with a couple men. Not before or later, or you'll spoil everything. Dumping four unsolved murders in your lap—ought to make you a captain for sure. I...”
“Where you calling from?”
“Be there at nine, big shot,” I said, hanging up. It was one of the most satisfying conversations I ever had. For a moment I considered calling my professor, if he could be there I'd be a holder of the Black Belt, Second Degree. But having him there could also mean a murder rap for me.
9
We took a bus back to New York and I sent a registered letter from the General Post Office at 34th Street to the insurance company in the bag for the Frisco dough, informing them I was about to hand over to the police information that would lead to the conviction of the thieves and possible return of the money, and was hereby claiming the reward. That done, we took a cab to the boatyard. It was about seven, giving me plenty of time to get the boat aro
und to the Hudson and the dock.
It was beginning to get dark, but there were a couple of guys puttering around their boats. You have as many Sunday boatmen as Sunday drivers—jokers who spend all week, maybe all summer, working on their boats, getting in a few hours actual sailing on Sunday or Labor Day.
I asked the fat guy who managed the yard if he'd seen Bobo and he said, “Yeah, think the guy with the punchy face went aboard. Saw him as I was going out for supper.”
Laurie and I jumped on the deck and I called Bobo and be answered from the cabin. As I stepped down into the cabin, I felt the sound of a fist coming through the air and my head seemed to take off from my neck. A black fog came storming down on me and I was swimming in it. I swam for a long time; stopping once to tread water, I saw a light in the distance.
Calling for Laurie, I swam toward the light.
10
Opening my eyes I found myself looking at a match, and in the light of the match I saw “Cat” Franklin's smooth face, Lefty Wilson's hard, beaten features.
I was sitting on my bunk. Vaguely I could make out Laurie on the other bunk, her lips bloody, hands tied, my sock stuck in her mouth as a gag. Opening my mouth to speak caused me terrible pain and all I could do was groan. I knew my jaw was broken—Lefty had clipped me with his Sunday wallop.
The match burned down to hot charcoal and Lefty lit another. Franklin shoved the red hot match in my eye and I watched a million sparks as a new pain sailed through my head. I kicked wildly with both feet and Lefty slapped me on the jaw and the pain was a nightmare. I struggled to climb back to consciousness. It was tough climbing.
When I made it, I saw they had one of my flashlights working. Lefty was sitting beside me. Franklin had the dough from my inside pocket, said, “So you had to spend two of the bills? How stupid can you get—I'd have been glad to cut you in on the gravy, now I have to kill you. And your trim over there. Stupidity never pays off.”
“Cops... are... waiting... you can't.... get away with... it... it,” I said, my voice sounding like a bum phone connection, as though my kisser was stuffed—stuffed with hot irons judging by the pain. The only thing that came through clearly was the thought that Margrita had crossed me.
“Chance that,” Franklin said. “Still only your word to connect me with all this, and what's the word of a cheap dick? And I don't think you even talked to the cops— you're one of these cocky jerks who tries to whip the world alone. You played your hand wrong, so you force me to get rough—with you, the broad, that spick pug of yours....”
“He's for me, boss,” Lefty cut in. “Margrita's for you.”
“Cat” grinned. “You're dumb, Darling, so dumb you're comical. I've had that whore's phone tapped for over a year. I'll take care of her, do things I always wanted to that.... Be quite a kick, for me.”
I don't know why, but merely knowing she hadn't crossed me, gave me a lift, a feeling of hope. My brain began to break through the fog of pain, started to work.
“You... you murdering pimp,” I said, sounding like a drunk as I stumbled over my tongue. “What... you... kill Anita and... Louise... for?”
Franklin laughed, said to Lefty, “Listen to this punk, thinks this is a movie where the bad guy confesses all in the last reel! Told you, I'm a quiet fellow, know when I have to give the other guy a break, a taste of money—even a big-money taste if he has me against the wall hard enough. And you had. I had to hock all my businesses to raise a million bucks. Ever try to raise a million? It's rough, and I had to put everything I had on the line. Then you come sticking your damn nose in. You wouldn't buy, so I had to get tough—real tough, because every cent I have—everything—was at stake. That's over now, you're out of the way. Simple set-up... boat wreck... your bodies found a day or so later. Give the crabs something to eat. They go for the eyes, the nose, and other soft parts, first.”
I kept thinking that Bobo was our only chance. If he'd only come back, start a roughhouse. I could still handle one of them. “Lot... people... around yard.” I seemed to be chewing on the broken bone of my jaw, and every time the sharp bone ends moved it was like hot wires stuck in them.
“Didn't I tell you? You're going to take the boat out of here. Reason why I haven't tied you up yet,” Franklin said.
I tried to grin—and almost fainted.
Franklin said grimly, “Keep on being the movie hero, see what it gets you. That little broad of yours, that Anita, dumb as hell too. Thought life was like the detective books. Surprising, skinny dame taking such a beating.
One part of my plan had worked—I'd gotten the Cat to confess before witnesses—only at the moment it didn't seem too important.
Looking at Laurie's eyes shining in the dim light—probably full of tears—I managed to say, “You ought... to... see... what I... can... take.”
Franklin looked at me sadly. “Won't you ever wise up? Your lumps will come—later. And don't encourage me to think up new ways of killing you... sometimes I like to think of... those things. Right now I need you to get this tub out of here, to a quiet spot on the river where we can wrap chains around you, sink you two, and the ship. And you'll do it, sail the boat out all nice and proper, stand at the wheel like a damn movie hero. Won't he, Lefty?”
Wilson pulled a switch blade out of his pocket, had it out and open, all in one expert motion. He moved over to Laurie's bunk, his hand and the knife disappeared under her skirt. Her eyes got brighter, but that was all.
11
Franklin shrugged. “See how simple things can be? And if you want to play it tough, that can be simple too. Knife would be some lover—think she'd like it? Scream and wiggle with...”
“O-okay,” I stuttered.
“Make your last hours easy on yourself. Makes the...”
We all heard Bobo call out, “My friend back yet?”
Then the yard owner's voice, “Yeah, with a girl. Hey, thought you were on the boat?”
“This morning,” Bobo said. “Girl back, too, that's fine!”
Wilson stood up, no knife in his hand. His head brushed the ceiling. “Boss, get over there. This will be a pleasure.”
Franklin nodded and switched off the light. Then he made his first mistake—he picked me up and stood with his back to the “Blowfish Madonna,” holding me in front of him, his big arms around me like two snakes. He wasn't any fat slob, I could feel the muscles of his gut against my back. He spread his feet far apart, so I couldn't kick back. Lefty pressed himself against the galley, at the foot of the steps. One of the “Cat's” big hands slapped across my face, closing my mouth.
The four of us followed the sound of Bobo's footsteps as he came nearer, jumped on the deck, calling, “Hal?”
Franklin mumbled, “Here.”
The moon was coming up and as Bobo entered the cabin I had a good look at his face—before Lefty's fist shot out, landed with the thud of thunder in his guts. It was a blow like that had made Bobo run out on Lefty.
Bobo doubled up, vomited some coffee he must have just had, fell down the steps. Lefty caught him, backed him against the closet wall, pounded him in the stomach. Lefty must have kicked the flashlight, for it went on and I saw Bobo's face, his mouth struggling for air... the fright in his eyes when he saw it was Lefty.
There was just about room to swing and Lefty was raining short, solid, blows into Bobo's middle, and Bobo wasn't even raising his hands in defense—taking it, blood and puke rushing from his mouth. I saw our last chance going to hell... when suddenly Bobo let out a grunt of rage, crossed a left hook to Lefty's face that shook him.
I gave a silent cheer and went to work. My hands were hanging between my legs and I spread my legs and fell as far forward as Franklin's arms would let me—as though I'd passed out. Then I reached under and back, felt for his groin, jerked with all the power I had.
12
His scream nearly busted my ears—a shrill, sharp roar of pain that was the sweetest music I ever heard! His hands left me and I stepped forward as Franklin sunk
to his knees, both hands pressing against his fly.
On the dock I heard people running toward the boat as I picked up the hefty flashlight, stepped in to help Bobo. There wasn't room enough for anything but infighting, slugging each other with short, jolting punches.
Bobo had his head resting on Wilson's shoulder, slugging Lefty's gut, and as I tried to get a clear shot at Wilson's head with the metal flash, Bobo suddenly sent me sprawling with the back of one of his big fists. For a moment I didn't get it... and then I understood: this was his private battle and he didn't want any help.
Keeping the light on them, I got the Luger out of my coat and then untied Laurie, asked her if she was all right, only all I could do was mumble something that didn't sound like anything.
“Hal, stop them—they're killing each other!” Laurie said.
I merely shook my head.
Through the portholes a cloud of frightened, curious faces were watching as Bobo and Wilson pounded each other, grunting like animals. They'd slowed up, but each punch was a vicious blow, with every ounce of strength behind it. As Bobo's fists kept up a steady pounding of his stomach, Wilson shuddered, his hands fell to his sides, and he slowly sank to the floor. A slashing uppercut sent his head bouncing back and he lay against the closet door—out cold—blood streaming from his nose, mouth, and ears. Bobo's face was a bloody, panting, smear as he stared down at Wilson, gasped, “Beat you, you sonofabitch... I beat you... Nine years too late!”
I knew what was running through Bobo's mind, if he'd taken that return match with Wilson and beat him, he would have had all the fame and money the championship brings... instead of hustling for a buck as a guard all these years. At a porthole somebody said, “Better call a cop!” I grabbed Laurie, mumbled, “Tell... them... no!”
“But Hal...?”
I had to claw my jaw open with my fingers to yell, “No!” Motioning for Bobo to tie up Franklin and Lefty, I went up on deck. Maybe it was my face, or the gun in my hand—everybody on the dock scattered. My jaw felt a million painful miles away... but otherwise I felt like singing!
13
Starting the motor, I got the lines off, and with the little crowd of boat-owners peering out from the boathouse at us like we were a crew of loons, I backed the boat out into the East River, headed upstream.
