The Big Kill mh-5

by Mickey Spillane

  She said, "Ummm," but that was before she bit into the sandwich.

  Moving her arms jerked the shortie up too far. Ellen blocked the view by handing me my beer and called back over her shoulder, "Either go put some more clothes on or get back in bed."

  The towhead took another bite and mumbled, "With you around I need a handicap." She took another bite and shuffled back to the bedroom.

  "See what I have to put up with?"

  "I wish I had to put up with it."

  "You would."

  So we sat and finished the snack and dawdled over a beer until I said it was time to scram and she looked painfully unhappy with an expression that said I could stay if I wanted to badly enough. I told her about the kid and the arrangements I had made with the nurse, tacking on that I should have tucked him into bed long ago.

  The same look she had in the office stole into her face. "Tuck me into bed too, Mike," she said. With the lithe grace of an animal she slid out of the chair past me and in the brief second the passion that our eyes met I felt the heat of passion that burned behind those deep blue irises.

  Not much more than a minute could have passed. Her voice was a husky whisper calling, "Mike..." and I went to her.

  There was no light except that which seeped in from the other room, a faint glow that made a bulky shadow of the bed with against the deeper blackness of the room itself. I could hear the rhythmic sigh of her breathing too heavy to be normal, and my hands shook when I stuck a cigarette in my mouth.

  She said, "Mike..." again and I struck the match.

  Her hair was a smooth mass of bronze edges on the pillow, her mough full and rich, showing the shiny white edges of her teeth. There was only the sheet over her that rose and dipped between the inviting hollows of her breasts. Ellen was beautiful as only a mature woman can be lustful.

  "Tuck me in, Mike."

  The match burned closer to my fingers. I reached down and got the corner of the sheet in my fingers and flipped way back. She lay there beautiful and naked and waiting.

  "I love brunettes," I said.

  The tone of my voice told her no, not tonight, but her smile didn't fade. She just grinned impishly because she knew I'd never be able to look at her again and say no. "You're a heel, Mike." The match went out.

  "You told me that once tonight."

  "You're a bigger heel than I thought." Then she laughed. When I backed out of the room she was still chuckling, but that thing was running up my back again.

  I was thinking of her all the way back to my apartment and thinking of her when I put my car away. I was thinking too damn much to be careful. When I stabbed my key in the lock and turned it there was a momentary catch in the tumblers before it went all, the way around and I swore out loud as I rammed the door with my shoulder and hit the floor. Something swished through the air over my head and I caught an arm and pulled a squirming, fighting bundle of muscle down on top of me.

  If I could have reached my rod I would have blown his guts out. His breath was in my face and I brought my knee up, but he jerked out of the way bringing his hand down again and my shoulder went numb after a split second of blinding pain. He tried again with one hand going for my throat, but I got one foot loose and kicked out and up and felt my toe smash into his groin. The cramp of the pain doubled him over on top of me, his breath sucking in like a leaky tire.

  Then I got cocky. I thought I had him. I went to get up and he moved. Just once. That thing in his hand smashed against the side of my head and I started to crumple up piece by piece until there wasn't anything left except the sense to see and hear enough to know that he had crawled out of the room and was falling down the stairs outside. Then I thought about the lock on my door and how I had a guy fix it so I could tell if it had been jimmied open so I wouldn't step into any blind alleys without a gun in my hand, but because of a dame who lay naked and smiling on a bed I wouldn't share I had forgotten all about it.

  And that was all.

  Chapter Four

  I thought I was in a boat that was sinking and I tried to get over the side before it turned over on me. I clawed for the railing that wouldn't stand still while the screaming of the bells and mechanical pounding of laboring engines blasted the air with frantic insistence.

  Somehow I got my eyes open and saw that I wasn't in a boat, but on the floor of my own apartment trying to grab the edge of the table. My head felt like a huge swollen thing that throbbed with a terrible fury, sending the pain shooting down to the balls of my feet. I choked on my tongue and muttered thickly, "God... my head... my head!"

  The phone didn't let up and whoever was pounding on the door wouldn't go away because they could hear me inside.

  I staggered to the door first and cursed. It was still unlocked; nobody had to pound like that. The damn thing was almost too heavy for me to open with one hand.

  I guess I must have looked pretty bad. The elderly nurse took one look at me and her arms tightened protectively around the kid. He didn't scare so easily though, or maybe he was used to seeing a bloated, unshaven face. He laughed.

  "Come on in," I said.

  The old lady didn't like the idea, but she came in. Mad, too. "Mr. Hammer..." she started.

  "Look, get off my back. I wasn't drunk or disorderly. I damn near got my skull smashed in..." I looked at the light streaming in the windows, "last night. Right here. I'm sorry you were inconvenienced, but I'll pay for it. Goddamn that phone... hello, hello!"

  "Mike?"

  I recognized Pat's voice. "Yeah, it's me. What's left of me."

  "What happened?" He sounded sharp and impatient.

  "Nothing. I just got jumped in my own joint and nearly brained, that's all. The bastard got away."

  "Look, you get down here as fast as you can, understand? On the double.

  "Now what's up?"

  "Trouble, and it's all yours, friend. Damn it, Mike, how many times do I have to remind you to keep your nose out of police business!"

  "Wait a minute..."

  "Wait my foot. Get down here before the D.A. sends somebody after you. There's another murder and it's got your name on it."

  I hung up and told my head to go right ahead and explode if it wanted to.

  Then the old lady let out a short scream and nearly broke her neck running for the kid. He was on his hands and knees reaching for my gun that lay under the table on the floor. She kicked it away and snapped him back on her lap.

  Lord, what a day this was going to be!

  Somebody else was at the door this time and all they had to do was rap just once more before I got it opened and they'd get a rap right in the teeth. The guy in the uniform said, "You Michael Hammer?"

  Nodding my head hurt, so I grunted that I was.

  He handed me a box about two feet long and held out a pad. "Package from the Uptown Kiddie Shop. Sign here, please."

  I scrawled my name, handed him a quarter and took the package inside. There was a stack of new baby clothes under the wrappings with a note on top addressed to me. It said,

  Dear Mike:

  Men are never much good at these things, so I picked up some clothes for the little boy. Let me know if they fit all right.

  Marsha

  The nurse was still eyeing me suspiciously. I handed her the boy and edged back to a nice soft chair. "Before you say anything, let me explain one thing. The kid's old man was bumped. Murdered. He's an orphan and I'm trying to find out who made him that way. Somebody doesn't like the idea and they got funny ways of telling me so, but that isn't stopping me any. Maybe this'll happen again and maybe it won't, but you'd be doing me and the kid a big favor if you'll put up with it until this mess is cleaned up. Will you?"

  Her face was expressionless a moment, then broke into a smile. "I... think I understand."

  "Good. Arrangements are being made now so the kid'll be taken care of permanently. It won't be long." I patted the back of my head and winced.

  "You'd better let me take a look at your scalp," she sai
d.

  She let me hold the kid while she probed around the lump awhile. If she had found a hole to stick her finger in, I wouldn't have been at all surprised. Finally she stood back satisfied and picked the kid up. "There doesn't seem to be anything wrong, but if I were you I'd see a doctor anyway."

  I told her I would.

  "You know, Mr. Hammer, in my time I've seen a great deal of suffering. It isn't new to me, not by a long sight. All I ask is that you don't bring any of it home to the child."

  "Nothing will bother the kid. I'll see to that. He'll be all right with you then?"

  "I'll take perfect care of him." She paused and her face creased in a frown. "This town is full of rabid dogs and there's not a dogcatcher in sight."

  "I kill mad dogs," I said.

  "Yes, I've heard that you do. Good morning, Mr. Hammer." I handed her the box of clothes, picked the rod up from the floor and ushered her out.

  My, head was still booming away and I tried to fix it up with a hot shower. That helped, but a mess of bacon and eggs helped even more. It woke me up enough to remember Pat said my name was on a murder and I didn't have the sense to ask who he was talking about.

  I gave it a try on the phone anyway, but they couldn't locate Pat in the building anywhere. I held the receiver down for a second, long enough to check Marsha's number in the book, then punched out her call. The nurse with the mustache answered and told me that Miss Lee had just left for a morning rehearsal of the Little Theater Group and wasn't expected back until later that afternoon.

  Nuts. So now I had to go down to police headquarters and face an inquisition. My legs had more life in them by the time I reached the street, and when I had pulled up in front of the building downtown I was back to normal in a sense. At least I felt like having a beer and a butt without choking over the thought.

  They were real happy to see me, they were. They looked like they hoped I wouldn't come so they could go drag me down by the neck, but now that I was there everything was malicious, tight smiles and short, sharp sentences that steered me into a little room where I was supposed to sit and sweat so I'd blab my head off when they asked me questions.

  I spit on the floor, right in the middle, to be exact, and had the Lucky I wanted. The college boy with the pointed face who rated as the D.A.'s assistant glared at me but didn't have the guts to back it up with any words. He parked behind a desk and tried to look important and tough. It was a lousy act.

  When I started wondering how long they were going to let me cool my heels the corridor got noisy and I picked out Pat's voice raising Cain with somebody. The door slammed open and he stalked in with his face tight in anger.

  I said, "'lo, Pal," but he didn't answer.

  He walked up to the desk and leaned on it until his face wasn't an inch away from the D.A.'s boy and he did a good job of keeping his hands off the guy's neck. "Since when do you take over the duties of the Police Department? I'm still Captain of Homicide around here and when there's murder I'll handle it myself, personally, understand? I ought to knock your ears off for pulling a stunt like that!"

  The boy got a blustery red and started to get up. "See here, the District Attorney gave me full permission..."

  "To butt into my business because a friend of mine is suspected of murder!"

  "Exactly!"

  Pat's voice got dangerously low. "Get your ass out of this office before I kick hell out of you. Go on, get out. And you tell the D.A. that I'll see him in a few minutes."

  He practically ran to the door. I could see the D.A. getting a sweet version of the story, all right. I said, "What'd he do to you, kid?"

  "Crazy little bastard. He thinks because I'm a friend of yours I'll do a little whitewashing. He got me out of the building on a phony call right after I spoke to you."

  "You're not going to be very popular with the D.A. for that."

  "I'm sick of that guy walking all over this office. They pulled a raid on a wire room last night and all they got was an empty apartment with a lot of holes in the walls and a blackboard that still showed track results and a snotty little character who said he was thinking of opening a school for handicappers. The guy was clean and there wasn't a thing the D.A. could do."

  "Sounds like a good business. Whose wire room was it?"

  "Hell, who else has wire rooms in this town? The place was run by one of Ed Teen's outfit."

  "Or so your information said."

  "Yeah. So now the D.A. gets in a rile and raises hell with everyone from the mayor down. He's pulled his last rough sketch on, me with this deal though. Let him try getting rough just once and the news boys are going to get a lot of fancy stuff that won't do a thing for him when election time comes."

  "Where is he now?"

  "Inside waiting for you."

  "Let's see the guy then."

  "Just a minute. Tell me something straight. Did you kill a guy named Mel Hooker?" he asked.

  "Oh, God!"

  Pat's eyes got that squinty look. "What's the matter?"

  "Your corpse was the friend of William Decker... That beautiful local-type kill the police seem to be ignoring so well."

  "The police aren't ignoring anything."

  "Then they're not looking very hard. Mel and Decker were playing the ponies and Mel introduced him to a loan shark that financed his little escapades. There was a catch in it. Mel said Decker lost his shirt, but the loan shark, that Dixie Cooper guy, said Decker paid him off in full and was able to prove it."

  Pat muttered something under his breath. He nodded for me to follow him and started for the door. This time the tight smiles loosened up and nobody seemed to want to get in our way. From the way Pat was glowering it looked like he was ready to take me and anybody else apart and had already started.

  Pat knocked on the door and I heard the D.A. call out for somebody to see who it was. The door opened, a pair of thick-lensed glasses did a quick focus on the two of us and the D.A. said, "Show them in, Mr. Mertig."

  It was quite a gathering. The D.A. straddled his throne with two assistant D.A.'s flanking him, a pair of plain-clothesmen in the background and two more over by the window huddled together for mutual protection apparently.

  "Sit down, Hammer," the D.A. said.

  Everybody watched me with the annoyed look you see when the king isn't obeyed pronto. I walked up to his desk, planted my hands on the top and leaned right down in his face. I didn't like the guy and he didn't like me, but he wasn't getting snooty now or any other time. I said, "You call me Mister when you use my name. I don't want any crap from you or your boys and if you think you can make it tough for me just go ahead and try it. I came in here myself to save you the trouble of getting a false arrest charge slapped against your office and right now I'm not above walking out just to see what you'd do. It's about time you learned to be polite to your public when you're not sure of your facts."

  The D.A. started to get purple. In fact, a lot of people started to get purple. When they all got a nice livid tinge I sat down. He made a good job of keeping his voice under control. "We are sure of the facts... Mister Hammer."

  "Go on."

  "A certain Mel Hooker has been found dead. He was shot to death with a .45."

  "I suppose the bullet came from my gun?" I tried to make it sound as sarcastic as possible.

  The purple started to fade into an unhealthy red. Unhealthy for me, I mean. "Unfortunately, no. The bullet passed through the man and out the window. So far we haven't been able to locate It."

  I started to interrupt, but he held up, his hand. "However, you were very generous with your fingerprints. They're all over the place. The landlady identified your picture and vouched that she heard threats before you left, so it is quite a simple matter to see what followed."

  "Yeah, I went back later and shot him. I'm really that stupid."

  "Yes, you really are." His eyes were narrow slits in his face.

  "And you got rocks in your head, I said. He started to get up but I beat him to it. I
stood there looking down at him so he could see what I thought of him. "You're a real bright boy, you are. Brother, the voters sure must be proud of you! Christ, you're ready to kick anything around because your vice racket business is getting the works. It's got you so far down you're all set to slap me in the clink without having the foresight to ask me if I got an alibi or not for the time of the shooting. So it happened last night and I don't know what time and without bothering to find out I'll hand you my alibi on a platter and you can choke on it."

  I pointed to the intercom on his desk. "Get Ellen Scobie in here."

  The D.A.'s face was wet with an angry sweat. His finger triggered the gadget and when Ellen answered he told her to come in.

  Before the door opened I had a chance to look at Pat and he was shaking his head slowly trying to tell me not to go overboard so far I couldn't get back. Ellen came in, smiled at me through a puzzled frown and stood there waiting to see what was going on. From the look that passed between us, the D.A. caught on fast, but he wasn't letting me get in any prompting first. He said, "Miss Scobie, were you with this... with Mister Hammer last night at, say eleven-thirty?"

  She didn't have to think to answer that one. "Yes, I did happen to be with him."

  "Where were you?"

  "I should say that we were sitting in a bar about then. A place on Fifty-second Street."

  "That's all, Miss Scobie."

  Everybody ushered her out of the room with their eyes. When the door clicked shut the D.A.'s voice twanged like a flat banjo string. "You may go too, Mister Hammer. I'm getting a little tired of your impertinence." His face had turned a deadly white and he was speaking through his teeth. "I wouldn't be a bit surprised if your license was revoked very shortly."

  My voice came out a hiss more than anything else. "I'd be," I said. "You tried that once before and remember what happened?"

  That's all I had to say and for a few seconds I was the only one who didn't stop breathing in the room. Nobody bothered to open the door for me this time. I went out myself and started down the corridor, then Pat caught up with me.

  We must have been thinking the same things, because neither one of us bothered to speak until we were two blocks away in Louie's place where a quick beer cooled things down to a boil.