Red Harvest

by Dashiell Hammett

  I continued telling it:

  “Noonan fakes a tip that you’re at Cedar Hill, and takes all the coppers he can’t trust out there with him, even cleaning the traffic detail out of Broadway, so Reno would have a clear road. McGraw and the bulls that are in on the play let Reno and his mob sneak out of the hoosegow, pull the job, and duck back in. Nice thing in alibis. Then they got sprung on bail a couple of hours later.

  “It looks as if Lew Yard tumbled. He sent Dutch Jake Wahl and some other boys out to the Silver Arrow last night to teach Reno and his pals not to take things in their own hands like that. But Reno got away, and got back to the city. It was either him or Lew then. He made sure which it would be by being in front of Lew’s house with a gun when Lew came out this morning. Reno seems to have had the right dope, because I notice that right now he’s holding down a chair that would have been Lew Yard’s if Lew hadn’t been put on ice.”

  Everybody was sitting very still, as if to call attention to how still they were sitting. Nobody could count on having any friends among those present. It was no time for careless motions on anybody’s part.

  If what I had said meant anything one way or the other to Reno he didn’t show it.

  Thaler whispered softly:

  “Didn’t you skip some of it?”

  “You mean the part about Jerry?” I kept on being the life of the party. “I was coming back to that. I don’t know whether he got away from the can when you crushed out, and was caught later, or whether he didn’t get away, or why. And I don’t know how willingly he went along on the bank caper. But he did go along, and he was dropped and left in front of the bank because he was your right bower, and his being killed there would pin the trick to you. He was kept in the car till the get-away was on. Then he was pushed out, and was shot in the back. He was facing the bank, with his back to the car, when he got his.”

  Thaler looked at Reno and whispered:

  “Well?”

  Reno looked with dull eyes at Thaler and asked calmly:

  “What of it?”

  Thaler stood up, said, “Deal me out,” and walked to the door.

  Pete the Finn stood up, leaning on the table with big bony hands, speaking from deep in his chest:

  “Whisper.” And when Thaler had stopped and turned to face him: “I’m telling you this. You, Whisper, and all of you. That damn gun-work is out. All of you understand it. You’ve got no brains to know what is best for yourselves. So I’ll tell you. This busting the town open is no good for business. I won’t have it any more. You be nice boys or I’ll make you.

  “I got one army of young fellows that know what to do on any end of a gun. I got to have them in my racket. If I got to use them on you I’ll use them on you. You want to play with gunpowder and dynamite? I’ll show you what playing is. You like to fight? I’ll give you fighting. Mind what I tell you. That’s all.”

  Pete the Finn sat down.

  Thaler looked thoughtful for a moment, and went away without saying or showing what he had thought.

  His going made the others impatient. None wanted to remain until anybody else had time to accumulate a few guns in the neighborhood.

  In a very few minutes Elihu Willsson and I had the library to ourselves.

  We sat and looked at one another.

  Presently he said:

  “How would you like to be chief of police?”

  “No. I’m a rotten errand boy.”

  “I don’t mean with this bunch. After we’ve got rid of them.”

  “And got another just like them.”

  “Damn you,” he said, “it wouldn’t hurt to take a nicer tone to a man old enough to be your father.”

  “Who curses me and hides behind his age.”

  Anger brought a vein out blue in his forehead. Then he laughed.

  “You’re a nasty talking lad,” he said, “but I can’t say you haven’t done what I paid you to do.”

  “A swell lot of help I’ve got from you.”

  “Did you need wet-nursing? I gave you the money and a free hand. That’s what you asked for. What more did you want?”

  “You old pirate,” I said, “I blackmailed you into it, and you played against me all the way till now, when even you can see that they’re hell-bent on gobbling each other up. Now you talk about what you did for me.”

  “Old pirate,” he repeated. “Son, if I hadn’t been a pirate I’d still be working for the Anaconda for wages, and there’d be no Personville Mining Corporation. You’re a damned little woolly lamb yourself, I suppose. I was had, son, where the hair was short. There were things I didn’t like—worse things that I didn’t know about until tonight—but I was caught and had to bide my time. Why since that Whisper Thaler has been here I’ve been a prisoner in my own home, a damned hostage!”

  “Tough. Where do you stand now?” I demanded. “Are you behind me?”

  “If you win.”

  I got up and said:

  “I hope to Christ you get caught with them.”

  He said:

  “I reckon you do, but I won’t.” He squinted his eyes merrily at me. “I’m financing you. That shows I mean well, don’t it? Don’t be too hard on me, son, I’m kind of—”

  I said, “Go to hell,” and walked out.

  20

  LAUDANUM

  Dick Foley in his hired car was at the next corner. I had him drive me over to within a block of Dinah Brand’s house, and walked the rest of the way.

  “You look tired,” she said when I had followed her into the living room. “Been working?”

  “Attending a peace conference out of which at least a dozen killings ought to grow.”

  The telephone rang. She answered it and called me.

  Reno Starkey’s voice:

  “I thought maybe you’d like to hear about Noonan being shot to hell and gone when he got out of his heap in front of his house. You never saw anybody that was deader. Must have had thirty pills pumped in him.”

  “Thanks.”

  Dinah’s big blue eyes asked questions.

  “First fruits of the peace conference, plucked by Whisper Thaler,” I told her. “Where’s the gin?”

  “Reno talking, wasn’t it?”

  “Yeah. He thought I’d like to hear about Poisonville being all out of police chiefs.”

  “You mean—?”

  “Noonan went down tonight, according to Reno. Haven’t you got any gin? Or do you like making me ask for it?”

  “You know where it is. Been up to some of your cute tricks?”

  I went back into the kitchen, opened the top of the refrigerator, and attacked the ice with an ice pick that had a six-inch awl-sharp blade set in a round blue and white handle. The girl stood in the doorway and asked questions. I didn’t answer them while I put ice, gin, lemon juice and seltzer together in two glasses.

  “What have you been doing?” she demanded as we carried our drinks into the dining room. “You look ghastly.”

  I put my glass on the table, sat down facing it, and complained:

  “This damned burg’s getting me. If I don’t get away soon I’ll be going blood-simple like the natives. There’s been what? A dozen and a half murders since I’ve been here. Donald Willsson; Ike Bush; the four wops and the dick at Cedar Hill; Jerry; Lew Yard; Dutch Jake, Blackie Whalen and Put Collings at the Silver Arrow; Big Nick, the copper I potted; the blond kid Whisper dropped here; Yakima Shorty, old Elihu’s prowler; and now Noonan. That’s sixteen of them in less than a week, and more coming up.”

  She frowned at me and said sharply:

  “Don’t look like that.”

  I laughed and went on:

  “I’ve arranged a killing or two in my time, when they were necessary. But this is the first time I’ve ever got the fever. It’s this damned burg. You can’t go straight here. I got myself tangled at the beginning. When old Elihu ran out on me there was nothing I could do but try to set the boys against each other. I had to swing the job the best way I could. How co
uld I help it if the best way was bound to lead to a lot of killing? The job couldn’t be handled any other way without Elihu’s backing.”

  “Well, if you couldn’t help it, what’s the use of making a lot of fuss over it? Drink your drink.”

  I drank half of it and felt the urge to talk some more.

  “Play with murder enough and it gets you one of two ways. It makes you sick, or you get to like it. It got Noonan the first way. He was green around the gills after Yard was knocked off, all the stomach gone out of him, willing to do anything to make peace. I took him in, suggested that he and the other survivors get together and patch up their differences.

  “We had the meeting at Willsson’s tonight. It was a nice party. Pretending I was trying to clear away everybody’s misunderstandings by coming clean all around, I stripped Noonan naked and threw him to them—him and Reno. That broke up the meeting. Whisper declared himself out. Pete told everybody where they stood. He said battling was bad for his bootlegging racket, and anybody who started anything from then on could expect to have his booze guards turned loose on them. Whisper didn’t look impressed. Neither did Reno.”

  “They wouldn’t be,” the girl said. “What did you do to Noonan? I mean how did you strip him and Reno?”

  “I told the others that he had known all along that MacSwain killed Tim. That was the only lie I told them. Then I told them about the bank stick-up being turned by Reno and the chief, with Jerry taken along and dropped on the premises to tie the job to Whisper. I knew that’s the way it was if what you told me was right, about Jerry getting out of the car, starting toward the bank and being shot. The hole was in his back. Fitting in with that, McGraw said the last seen of the stick-up car was when it turned into King Street. The boys would be returning to the City Hall, to their jail alibi.”

  “But didn’t the bank watchman say he shot Jerry? That’s the way it was in the papers.”

  “He said so, but he’d say anything and believe it. He probably emptied his gun with his eyes shut, and anything that fell was his. Didn’t you see Jerry drop?”

  “Yes, I did, and he was facing the bank, but it was all too confused for me to see who shot him. There were a lot of men shooting, and—”

  “Yeah. They’d see to that. I also advertised the fact—at least, it looks like a fact to me—that Reno plugged Lew Yard. This Reno is a tough egg, isn’t he? Noonan went watery, but all they got out of Reno was a ‘What of it?’ It was all nice and gentlemanly. They were evenly divided—Pete and Whisper against Noonan and Reno. But none of them could count on his partner backing him up if he made a play, and by the time the meeting was over the pairs had been split. Noonan was out of the count, and Reno and Whisper, against each other, had Pete against them. So everybody sat around and behaved and watched everybody else while I juggled death and destruction.

  “Whisper was the first to leave, and he seems to have had time to collect some rods in front of Noonan’s house by the time the chief reached home. The chief was shot down. If Pete the Finn meant what he said—and he has the look of a man who would—he’ll be out after Whisper. Reno was as much to blame for Jerry’s death as Noonan, so Whisper ought to be gunning for him. Knowing it, Reno will be out to get Whisper first, and that will set Pete on his trail. Besides that, Reno will likely have his hands full standing off those of the late Lew Yard’s underlings who don’t fancy Reno as boss. All in all it’s one swell dish.”

  Dinah Brand reached across the table and patted my hand. Her eyes were uneasy. She said:

  “It’s not your fault, darling. You said yourself that there was nothing else you could do. Finish your drink and we’ll have another.”

  “There was plenty else I could do,” I contradicted her. “Old Elihu ran out on me at first simply because these birds had too much on him for him to risk a break unless he was sure they could be wiped out. He couldn’t see how I could do it, so he played with them. He’s not exactly their brand of cut-throat, and, besides, he thinks the city is his personal property, and he doesn’t like the way they’ve taken it away from him.

  “I could have gone to him this afternoon and showed him that I had them ruined. He’d have listened to reason. He’d have come over to my side, have given me the support I needed to swing the play legally. I could have done that. But it’s easier to have them killed off, easier and surer, and, now that I’m feeling this way, more satisfying. I don’t know how I’m going to come out with the Agency. The Old Man will boil me in oil if he ever finds out what I’ve been doing. It’s this damned town. Poisonville is right. It’s poisoned me.

  “Look. I sat at Willsson’s table tonight and played them like you’d play trout, and got just as much fun out of it. I looked at Noonan and knew he hadn’t a chance in a thousand of living another day because of what I had done to him, and I laughed, and felt warm and happy inside. That’s not me. I’ve got hard skin all over what’s left of my soul, and after twenty years of messing around with crime I can look at any sort of a murder without seeing anything in it but my bread and butter, the day’s work. But this getting a rear out of planning deaths is not natural to me. It’s what this place has done to me.”

  She smiled too softly and spoke too indulgently:

  “You exaggerate so, honey. They deserve all they get. I wish you wouldn’t look like that. You make me feel creepy.”

  I grinned, picked up the glasses, and went out to the kitchen for more gin. When I came back she frowned at me over anxious dark eyes and asked:

  “Now what did you bring the ice pick in for?”

  “To show you how my mind’s running. A couple of days ago, if I thought about it at all, it was as a good tool to pry off chunks of ice.” I ran a finger down its half-foot of round steel blade to the needle point. “Not a bad thing to pin a man to his clothes with. That’s the way I’m begging, on the level. I can’t even see a mechanical cigar lighter without thinking of filling one with nitroglycerine for somebody you don’t like. There’s a piece of copper wire lying in the gutter in front of your house—thin, soft, and just long enough to go around a neck with two ends to hold on. I had one hell of a time to keep from picking it up and stuffing it in my pocket, just in case—”

  “You’re crazy.”

  “I know it. That’s what I’ve been telling you. I’m going blood-simple.”

  “Well, I don’t like it. Put that thing back in the kitchen and sit down and be sensible.”

  I obeyed two-thirds of the order.

  “The trouble with you is,” she scolded me, “your nerves are shot. You’ve been through too much excitement in the last few days. Keep it up and you’re going to have the heebie-jeebies for fair, a nervous breakdown.”

  I held up a hand with spread fingers. It was steady enough.

  She looked at it and said:

  “That doesn’t mean anything. It’s inside you. Why don’t you sneak off for a couple of days’ rest? You’ve got things here so they’ll run themselves. Let’s go down to Salt Lake. It’ll do you good.”

  “Can’t, sister. Somebody’s got to stay here to count the dead. Besides, the whole program is based on the present combination of people and events. Our going out of town would change that, and the chances are the whole thing would have to be gone over again.”

  “Nobody would have to know you were gone, and I’ve got nothing to do with it.”

  “Since when?”

  She leaned forward, made her eyes small, and asked:

  “Now what are you getting at?”

  “Nothing. Just wondering how you got to be a disinterested bystander all of a sudden. Forgotten that Donald Willsson was killed because of you, starting the whole thing? Forgotten that it was the dope you gave me on Whisper that kept the job from petering out in the middle?”

  “You know just as well as I do that none of that was my fault,” she said indignantly. “And it’s all past, anyway. You’re just bringing it up because you’re in a rotten humor and want to argue.”

  “It wa
sn’t past last night, when you were scared stiff Whisper was going to kill you.”

  “Will you stop talking about killing!”

  “Young Albury once told me Bill Quint had threatened to kill you,” I said.

  “Stop it.”

  “You seem to have a gift for stirring up murderous notions in your boy friends. There’s Albury waiting trial for killing Willsson. There’s Whisper who’s got you shivering in corners. Even I haven’t escaped your influence. Look at the way I’ve turned. And I’ve always had a private notion that Dan Rolff’s going to have a try at you some day.”

  “Dan! You’re crazy. Why, I—”

  “Yeah. He was a lunger and down and out, and you took him in. You gave him a home and all the laudanum he wants. You use him for errand boy, you slap his face in front of me, and slap him around in front of others. He’s in love with you. One of these mornings you’re going to wake up and find he’s whittled your neck away.”

  She shivered, got up and laughed.

  “I’m glad one of us knows what you’re talking about, if you do,” she said as she carried our empty glasses through the kitchen door.

  I lit a cigarette and wondered why I felt the way I did, wondered if I were getting psychic, wondered whether there was anything in this presentiment business or whether my nerves were just ragged.

  “The next best thing for you to do if you won’t go away,” the girl advised me when she returned with full glasses, “is to get plastered and forget everything for a few hours. I put a double slug of gin in yours. You need it.”

  “Its not me,” I said, wondering why I was saying it, but somehow enjoying it. “It’s you. Every time I mention killing, you jump on me. You’re a woman. You think if nothing’s said about it, maybe none of the God only knows how many people in town who might want to will kill you. That’s silly. Nothing we say or don’t say is going to make Whisper, for instance—”

  “Please, please stop! I am silly. I am afraid of the words. I’m afraid of him. I—Oh, why didn’t you put him out of the way when I asked you?”

  “Sorry,” I said, meaning it.

  “Do you think he—?”