by Gil Brewer
“Where’s the money?” he said.
I still didn’t say anything, but I moved slightly away to not say it.
“We can save time, Mr. Nichols—and energy. Your energy, if you’ll just tell me quickly.” He sighed and shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket and stood there looking at me with his shoulders hunched. “You know,” he said, “I’ve never met a guy just like you.” He shook his head. “You know who I am, and why I’m here—yet you act this way. It’s a dumb way to act. I wish you wouldn’t do it.”
I grinned at him. He didn’t move. “Was she here when I was here last time?”
“Did it ever occur to you I won’t be pushed?” I said.
“No.”
I didn’t say anything. He took a single step, bringing him up close to me. His eyes were very clear, the whites as clear and innocent looking as a baby’s.
“Mr. Nichols,” he said. “You know the kind of a man I am, and you know the job I’m on. I’m paid very well for this job, believe me.”
“So?”
“I’m going to kill you right here in your own yard if you don’t tell me what I want to know.”
He waited. That’s all there was to it. You knew absolutely that he would do exactly as he said. It would be, to him, like turning around and walking away. A single movement.
“We gave the money to Teece. You’re too late.”
“You’re not lying?”
“It’s the truth. I swear it. We gave it to this Teece. All right, yes—she had it. I didn’t. I didn’t have anything to do with this. She told me about it—wanted me to do some damned thing for her. She gave it to Noel Teece. It was in a briefcase.”
He kept standing there like that, watching me. I saw the skin on his face shrink up again and stay that way, and his color under the tan was pale. There were tiny pinpoints of perspiration on his nostrils. Otherwise, he didn’t change at all. He didn’t move.
“What did she tell you about it, Mr. Nichols?”
“Nothing. She just wanted me to help her.”
He thought about that for a time, watching me steadily. “This is something that has to be cleaned up right away,” he said. “You can believe that, can’t you? And it’s not getting cleaned up—not at all. It’s getting messier all the time, don’t you think?”
“The hell with you, Radan.”
“You can say that, yes.”
I turned and walked away from him.
“All right,” he said, from back there. “I’m going to move in.”
“What?”
“I want her apartment. Number six.”
I paused, then went back to where he was standing. “The hell you say!”
“I’ll take the one next door, for now. As soon as the law’s through, then I’m moving into her apartment. You can understand what that means, of course?”
“You can’t do that!”
He laughed quietly, reached out and tapped me on the arm. “Come on,” he said. “Will you show me the apartment? Or shall I take care of that myself?”
I just had to stand here and take this, along with all the rest. And it was getting to be too much. Wouldn’t the law know him? Apparently not. He wouldn’t be here if they did, and he was damned certain I wasn’t going to say anything. He had me over a barrel.
“Let’s do it right,” he said. “Like any decent landlord, Mr. Nichols.”
He started walking out toward the front of the motel. Then he turned. “You going to change your story, Nichols?”
“She gave Teece the money. Honest to God she did. He did something, threatened her—listen, she wanted me to help her get out of the country. That’s how I got mixed up in this. It’s all over now. It’s done, can’t you see? Teece is probably in South America, by this time. Can’t you go away and leave us alone?”
“Nobody’s got that money, Nichols. You’re lying.”
“I’m telling you—”
“All right. I’m moving in. We’ll see. I’ll have to work it out.”
Well, he moved into number seven. And the first thing he did, with me right there, was walk into the bathroom and lift the lid off the toilet tank and take a look. He clanked it back on and didn’t say a word.
“I have some things out in the car,” he said. “Come on, help me carry it in.”
“You can go to hell.”
“All right.” He shrugged and went out, whistling. He got into the car and started it and drove off. My cripes, was he leaving? I rushed out there and watched him drive along and turn the corner. I waited. He turned into the alley and I heard the plump tires of his Caddy on the gravel back there and I heard him stop at the garage for number seven. The door squeaked as he slid it open. He drove inside.
Pretty soon he came along, carrying two great big suitcases, so he’d figured on something like this. He walked past me without looking at me and went into number seven.
I went after him. I stood in the doorway. He had taken the suitcases into the bedroom, and he came back into the living room and glanced at me, then went over and opened the blinds.
“You can’t stay here,” I said.
“Why don’t you prevent me?”
“I told you all I know.”
He began to whistle. It was shrill and harsh on the ears, tuneless. Just ceaseless, endless, hard. He walked around and put all the blinds open, took off his hat and set it on an end table, with care. Then he took his jacket off and went into the bedroom. When he returned, he wasn’t wearing the gun, either. It had been a big gun.
“I like these assignments, Nichols. Everybody knows what’s going on, and only one is lying or not lying, and eventually you find out.”
He wasn’t sure about believing me. I could tell the way he looked at me. His instinct told him I was lying, and his instinct was right. Only he had to believe me.
“Too bad I can’t have a dame around here,” he said. “But I’m traveling under orders, like I said. Too bad. It’ll be lonely— unless something happens. And it probably will.”
We stood there and watched each other. He reached up and loosened his tie, stretching his jaw, his eyes never leaving mine. Where his shoulder harness for the gun had been, his shirt was wrinkled. It was no light harness, either; it was thick-strapped and Radan was a tried gunman. You knew it, you didn’t have to be told. And there didn’t seem to be any fear in the man, and he wasn’t ignorant.
“There a phone in the office, Nichols?”
“No.”
He shoved by me and went on outside. I had thought about shoulder pads in his suit jacket. It wasn’t so. Radan’s shoulders were broad, pushing at the seams of his shirt. He was loaded with energy, and very fit, and I felt that in his own secret way, he was very proud of this. So far, I hadn’t seen him smoke. I wondered if he drank.
He started across the lawn toward the office. I went after him and caught up with him.
“Listen: Be careful what you say over the phone. My wife’s around.”
He didn’t bother answering. He stepped jauntily up on the porch and opened the door and called, “Mrs. Nichols—I’d like to use your phone. Will it be all right?”
Bess came into the office. “Why, hello, there.”
“I’ve moved into your motel, Mrs. Nichols.”
She looked at me and I nodded.
“Number seven.”
She swallowed and said, “You’ve probably heard what happened here this morning.”
“Wipe it straight off your mind. The phone?”
She pointed to the desk and he went over and picked it up and dialed once and asked the long-distance operator for a Tampa number. Then, waiting, he looked first at me, then at Bess.
Bess tugged at my arm. We were bothering him, and after all, when a person’s phoning, you should have the common decency not to listen in. “Hello,” he said into the phone. He waited as somebody spoke on the other end. “Yes,” he said. “All present and accounted for. I moved in. Yes.” He hung up, turned and grinned at Bess.
She told him and he paid her, and he went outside, whistling.
“He’s rather nice, in a funny way, isn’t he?” Bess said.
“Yeah, sure.”
“What did he say when you told him about what happened?”
“Nothing, Bess. It didn’t seem to trouble him.”
“You think they’ve caught the man, yet?”
“How’s about fixing something to eat?”
She hesitated, watching me. Her eyes were soft and blue. I looked at her and there was this expression of patience on her face, in her eyes, and she smiled at me. Then she came up to me and put her arms around me. I held her tight, wanting to crush her, loving her maybe more than I ever thought I could love her. I was lost and all these things were crowding me. I didn’t know what to do now. And she didn’t know what it was all about and I couldn’t tell her. That’s what hurt the most, I guess. I wanted to tell her—but I never could. She believed in me and trusted me, and I’d slipped up.
Only the money was out there, and it was our money. I wasn’t going to lose that now.
Her lips were warm and I kissed her temples, feeling the soft golden hair against my lips, and her forehead and her chin. I pulled her tight against me.
“I love you, Roy.” We stood there like that. And him over there in number seven, with his gun and his suitcases, waiting for God knew what. And Gant. And Noel Teece.
Remembering Teece brightly was like a kind of added pain.
Maybe if I could talk Bess into taking a vacation. Just close the place down, kick them all out, and go away. Let it all blow over. We could take what money we had and just leave that briefcase. When we came back, Lieutenant Gant would have the murder solved, and we could…
After we ate, I went around trying to catch up with things. Trying to keep my mind off what was happening—what could happen. It didn’t work. I’d be in the yard and find myself sneaking around the apartments to have a look at the outside of the garage. Six or seven times I went into the garage, for nothing. Just to find myself standing there by the Chevy, staring up there at the beams where that briefcase was. Or I’d look over at number seven, and sometimes he’d be standing on the porch with a tall glass in his hands. He’d look across at me and I’d turn away.
Once he waved and called, “Hot, isn’t it?”
I began to quit trying to duck everything, and face it up instead. I’d have to, sooner or later. And maybe right then, for the first time, I really began to understand what I was up against. I’d thought I had before. Now it all came up into me like a big choke. These people who had sent Radan over here weren’t fooling, and I’d been kidding with it. And Radan had said he had a plan.
What kind of a plan? I didn’t want to think about that. I began to get scared, more than ever before in my life, and I knew I had good reason. Bess was in there and what was she thinking? And Gant, what was he going to do—would he be back today? I went back inside our place and just sat. Bess would come and look at me, then go away. I didn’t care what she thought. It didn’t matter.
I felt empty inside, as though there wasn’t anything left—no place to go. Yet, I had to hang on. If I weakened now, then it was all shot and we wouldn’t have anything. It was the chance I had to take. All down through the years there’d never been anything but fight, fight, fight—for nothing. Whenever we got anything, we’d lose it.
Now, just this once…!
I’d sit there and Bess would come in and look at me. Sitting on the couch in the office, waiting. I didn’t know what for. For the guy over there in number seven to do whatever it was he was going to do—or for Gant to come back and shackle me and I’d still fight, and if I fought, I’d have to lie. And that would put me deeper and deeper, only I couldn’t stop.
It happens that way sometimes. If you ever have it that way, then you’ll know what I mean.
And there was a deep concern in Bess’s eyes; something I couldn’t quite read. It bothered me, but what was I going to do?
“Come on and eat, Roy. Supper’s ready.”
“All right.” I went into the kitchen and sat down and stared at my plate. I didn’t want to eat. There was this rotten black feeling all through me and I couldn’t shake it.
“Eat something, Roy. What’s the matter?”
“Nothing. I just don’t feel so hot.”
I wanted to go over and take this guy Radan and knock the hell out of him. Only I knew I wouldn’t. You know when it’s not ready; you know something’s going to happen.
Something had to happen. It was like before a big storm, with the black clouds out there on the horizon. Everything goes calm and dead, and then…
It happened about four o’clock in the morning. It was still dark when somebody began pounding on the office door.
I got up and wandered around, kind of hazy, there in the bedroom. They pounded on the door. I didn’t want to go out there. Finally I put on a robe and went.
I opened the door and a cop stood there, his face shining in the darkness. I saw a car out by the curb, with the headlights gleaming cold and brilliant on the road.
“Get some clothes on, Mr. Nichols,” he said. “Lieutenant Gant wants you to come along with me.”
Chapter 16
We went out to the car. There was nobody inside. The motor was quietly idling and the door on the driver’s side was open. He sure didn’t give a hang about the city paying for his gas. I went around and climbed in and he got in and we slammed our doors at the same time.
He started up and we went down the street and took the turn at the corner and headed toward Tampa Bay. He drove along through the quiet Southside residential section, his face turned rigidly front.
“Well,” I said. “What’s up?”
He didn’t answer.
It makes you feel like hell when they act that way. They get that superior air and I suppose they teach them that. Only I was a taxpayer, at least on the books, and I paid his salary.
“Lieutenant Gant, eh?”
“Look, Mr. Nichols. It won’t do you any good to keep asking. I’m not going to tell you anything. Those are my orders, and I reckon I’ll keep them.”
We turned left on the street along the park by the bay and he stepped it up a bit. You could see the reddish halo of light across the bay, over Tampa. Like a hooked, glass-enclosed Martian city, maybe—or just a pale hell on the not-too-distant horizon.
The park looked shadowed and quiet. Then it changed. There were some cars parked along the curb up there. Men were grouped in three or four places and they wore dull uniforms upon which sparks of light winked. Two spotlights were shining a silvery wash down there in the park, focused on the ground just beyond a tremendous live oak. The light was somehow off-white, bringing that odd cast of known green but seen gray to the brain and eye. The two cars were parked down there in the park on the grass.
We rolled along and he put on the brakes. He scraped the curb with the tires and we stopped.
“Get out, Nichols.”
I got out and waited, looking across the park where the spotlights were. A man detached himself from a group down there and the group dispersed. The man came along with a kind of head-down shuffle.
He came along and flipped his hand at me. “Something I want you to see, Nichols.”
It was ominous and I didn’t like it. This Gant was too somber. He motioned to the cop and the cop went around and got behind the wheel of the car and drove off. For a moment Gant and I stood there. The palms along the road sent crazy shadows leaping from the streetlights. “Come on,” Gant said.
I started along with him, down through the park. There was nobody down there where the spotlights from the police cars shone. I couldn’t see where we were going, because there was a huge bush in the way.
We came into the beams of the spots. We rounded the bush and Ga
nt looked at me, waiting.
Well, it was Noel Teece.
He had been what you might say torn limb from limb. A long streamer of bandage from the cast on his left arm lay tugging and fluttering in the wind, up along the grass. The cast on his arm had been smashed. His eyes were half-open. The bandage had been torn off his face and it was all scabs. He was lying flat on his back, looking up into the dark sky.
Then I saw how he’d been slit up the middle with a knife, or maybe an axe. I turned and walked around behind the bush and was sick.
When I came back, Gant hadn’t moved. He was standing there, looking at Teece.
“Like a fish,” he said. “Just like a fish.”
“What’d you bring me down here for?”
“Don’t you know?”
I couldn’t look at him again.
“Go ahead,” Gant said. “Look at him. That’s Noel Teece, Nichols. He’s the man who was down to your place, visiting that Latimer dame. Recognize him?”
I still couldn’t say anything.
“He’s a little hard to recognize, I admit,” he went on. “But that’s him, all right.” He turned and looked at me and frowned. “Do you say it’s him, Nichols?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, make up your mind. We brought you down here just to make sure. Not like there’s two of them running around, dressed the same—and with a broken arm and a patched-up head. What do you say?”
“It might be.”
“‘It might be!’ You—” He paused and rubbed his hand across his face. “All right. We’ll bring your wife down here. She saw him, remember?”
“I guess it’s him, all right.” I still didn’t look down there again. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I said that.”
“Thanks. For nothing.” He turned and started away, then whirled and came up to me again. “Why do you do this? Why do you act this way? Isn’t it enough—?” He shook his head, breathing hard, real mad.
I felt like hell. I wanted to help him. But if I helped him, I’d be helping myself right out of that money.
Then I thought of Radan and it was as if the back of my neck turned to wood. He’d done this, as sure as hell—Radan. So why hadn’t he come to me? If he did do this, he sure would head for me right after, because by now he’d know Teece didn’t have the money. And that was all Radan wanted.
