Run, Killer, Run

by William Campbell Gault

  “Yes, dear. And you be careful.”

  “Me? Don’t worry about me.” “I do. I wanted you to know that.”

  “All right. I know it, now. Go back to the apartment, this second.” A pause. “Darling.” The click of her phone and a dead line.

  He had a fresh pot of coffee made by the time she got there. She came into the living room and stood there quietly, a moment, looking around, and then she looked up at him.

  And he was close and he saw her lower lip quaver as she looked up at him, and he took a step and she came to him as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

  After a few seconds, he said, “Well, that was — how do they call it? That was — kismet.”

  “Kismet again,” she said. “I liked it. Heavens, that was a horrible pun, wasn’t it?” Tremor in her voice.

  He pulled her close. “Jean, I guess we — love us, don’t we? This isn’t anything casual, is it?”

  She rubbed her forehead against his cheek. “I’m never casual, unfortunately. It’s one of my vices. I wish I could be. I get this Carrie Nation feeling and wonder when I’m going to start looking like that, and — Oh, hell, I’m boring you.”

  “Never. Keep talking.”

  “I get these — these enthusiasms, these shining CAUSES, this unwomanly urge to tilt at windmills, and think of how dull that would be for a man, a lifetime of that. It’s probably what kept Joe from — ”

  “To hell with Joe. Don’t talk about that son-of-a-bitch.” He kissed her forehead. “I made some coffee. Let’s have a cup.”

  They drank their coffee in the living room and he told about going to Connie Garrity and about Lisa Prentice. He said, “Lisa tells me Nannie was another of Lois’ conquests.”

  She nodded. “I can believe it. And were Connie and Lisa a pair of Tom Spear’s conquests?”

  “That’s not a fair question, honey. We didn’t start going together until five minutes ago.”

  “I don’t want another Joe Hubbard,” she said quietly.

  “Do you think I am? I was true to my wife every minute of our marriage. Easy, baby, you’re getting that Carrie Nation look.”

  She stared at her coffee cup. “What else did the girls tell you?”

  “Lisa told me Nannie’s getting some Eastern competition, and it’s rough competition. One of the boys is Ames Gilchrist. Try that name on for size.”

  “That — drip, that smeary thing?” Her stare lifted from the coffee cup to fasten on Tom. “He certainly can’t be much of a menace.”

  “Don’t judge by looks. The day after he tried the door to that room, a phony cop comes to investigate. I was hiding in Lisa’s hall closet when Ames dropped in there. He was just as nosy, again, and he found me in the closet. I had a gun, fortunately.”

  Her face froze. “And — ?”

  “And I got away. He tried to talk to me, but I wouldn’t listen. This man who parked outside of Connie’s and was waiting for Leonard in front of his office is somebody else. His name is Luke Neilson and he works as a collector for Nannie.”

  “Waiting for Leonard — ? Tom, I didn’t know anyone was waiting in front of Leonard’s office.”

  “Yesterday afternoon, late. Haven’t you heard from him since?”

  She shook her head. Silence, while they stared at each other. And then Jean rose. “I’m going over to his office. And his home. You wait right here.”

  “That’s dangerous, Jean. Why don’t we sit tight for a while?”

  “It’s not dangerous. You wait right here. I won’t do anything foolish.”

  “I want to go along.” He stood up.

  “That would be dangerous for me. That would tie me to you. Don’t you see, Tom? I’m clear, now. It’s best for both of us if I stay clear.” She came over to stand next to him. “Kiss me, you philanderer.”

  He kissed her. He held her close and whispered, “Former philanderer. Darling, for God’s sake, be careful.”

  “I promise. And if something has happened to him, I’ll go right to the law. I’ll tell the police all we’ve learned. I’ll tell them everything except about you. I know quite a few of them in the Department, Tom. I’ve some standing there, through Dad.”

  He held her at a distance. “All right. I’ll wait two hours. No more than that. I’m ashamed of hiding behind your shield.”

  She came closer to put her fingertips on his mouth. “Don’t ever say that again. We’re doing this the sensible way. You’re not hiding from anything but injustice. And only temporarily.”

  “We hope.”

  “I know. Don’t stir, now, until you hear from me, please.” She kissed the back of his hand and went to the door. “Wait for me,” she said there, and went out.

  He warmed the coffee and poured himself another cup. He sat in the living room and listened to the sound of the radio from across the hall. Three days ago, he would have settled for this hide-out; now it was irksome. Jean’s work, this change of attitude?

  Even Delavan, that realist, could be infected by Jean’s dedicated devotion to lost causes. Bucking Nannie Koronas could be a new high in lost causes. Though Ames Gilchrist obviously didn’t think so.

  And Lisa? No. Lisa was waiting for a winner, staying friendly to both parties at city hall. A scheming little bundle of lust, that Lisa Prentice, and she’d probably be the only one in the melee who’d wind up on top.

  He was scrambling some eggs when Jean came back at noon. She told him, “He’s not at the office, and his morning paper is still on his front porch. Do you think, Tom, he might have left town on a lead, and not had time to phone me?”

  “That could be. How about some lunch?” She nodded wearily.

  “Sit down,” Tom told her. “Don’t start imagining things that probably didn’t happen. He might even be — scared off.”

  She shook her head. “Not Leonard. He doesn’t scare.”

  “Yesterday, he was scared. He didn’t want to face that man in the coupe.”

  “But he went back, didn’t he? That’s what I mean.” Jean ran a hand over her hair. “I tried to find the superintendent of his office building. I wanted to get a key and check the office. But the man wasn’t around. Tom, Leonard was supposed to come over last night. He didn’t even phone.”

  Tom sat down next to her on the davenport. “Don’t start imagining things, I told you. We’ll hear from him. Would you like me to warm you some milk?”

  She patted his hand. “No, thanks. You’d better eat those eggs or they’ll turn dry. I’ll make my own.” She stood up, and smiled down at him. “Back to the wars, baby. I don’t scare very often.”

  “You should. It’s a frightening world.”

  She was at the stove and he was eating his eggs, when she asked, “You didn’t tell this Lisa you were staying here, did you?”

  “No.”

  “Or anyone else?”

  Tom didn’t answer immediately and Jean studied him before saying. “You did. Who, Tom?”

  “Jud Shallock. He was here last night.” Jean closed her eyes. “Oh, God!”

  “Jud’s all right. Don’t worry about him. He’s loyal to Nannie, but he’s no pigeon. Don’t lose any sleep over Jud.”

  “Of course not. Tom, you fool — How in the world did he find you?”

  “I phoned him and told him to come over. I wanted to check this story Lisa gave me about Nannie’s competition, and learn about this Luke Neilson.”

  Nothing from her. She brought her eggs over to the table and sat down. She ate quietly, thoughtfully.

  “Can’t you see it?” Tom protested. “Everybody doing everything for me, and it’s my neck. I had to do something for myself. What kind of a man would I be if I didn’t?”

  “A free one. A live one. I’m surprised Nannie Koronas hasn’t sent Neilson here already.”

  “He doesn’t know I’m here. I trust Jud Shallock. I know him.”

  “All right, all right. All right!”

  The knock on the door came only a second after her
words.

  Jean’s voice was suddenly shaky. “Leonard, do you think?”

  He shook his head. “Leonard has a key. He told me not to answer the door.”

  “I could answer it, Tom. If it’s the police, they’d need a warrant. And if it’s the police, they can force an entrance if we don’t answer. I’ll go. Leonard may have lost his key, or — ”

  The knock came again.

  Tom rose and pulled the .38 from his waistband. He put it in the pocket of his jacket and kept his hand on it. “All right, you go. But be ready to duck. It could be — anybody.”

  He went over to stand next to the door.

  Jean paused a moment with her hand on the knob, and then opened it. With the door open, Tom couldn’t see her face, but he could hear the tremor in her voice.

  “Yes? What is it?”

  “I’m looking for Tom, mam.”

  “Tom who? Who are you?”

  “Luke Neilson’s my name, mam. He may not know me. I started working for Nannie after Tom left the organization.”

  Tom had the gun out, now, and he said quietly to Jean, “All right, honey, let him come in.”

  Chapter 10

  JEAN TOOK two backward steps and the man came in and Tom kicked the door shut behind him.

  Neilson turned, his bland gaze going to the gun in Tom’s hand and then up to meet Tom’s apprehensive glare. Neilson shook his head. “What’s the gun for?”

  “Protection.”

  “I haven’t any gun. Have the lady search me, if you don’t believe it. You don’t need a gun around me, Tom; I work for Nannie.”

  “I know it. You’re bigger than I am. This gives me the edge. What’s happened to Delavan?”

  Neilson frowned. “How do I know? I talked to him yesterday. I told him to have you get in touch with Nannie. Didn’t he tell you that?”

  Tom said quietly, “If you talked to him yesterday, you must have been the last man to see him.”

  Neilson’s face was suddenly guarded. “I left him in his office. Something’s happened to Delavan?”

  “You know as much as we do, and probably more. Why were you parked in Venice so long?”

  “Watching that Garrity broad. I checked her from time to time from the minute we heard you’d made the break. Joe’s best girl, wasn’t she? And isn’t Joe the key to this thing? Were you there, at the Garrity girl’s joint? You never showed.”

  “I’ll ask the questions,” Tom said. “I’ve got the gun. Who told you I was here?”

  “Nannie.”

  “And who told Nannie?”

  “I don’t ask him those kind of questions.”

  Jean said hoarsely, “We know who told him. Jud Shallock told him. He was supposed to be Tom’s friend.”

  Neilson’s glance went between them and settled on Tom. “What makes her think he isn’t your friend, Tom? Are you sure you know who your friends are?”

  “I used to think so.”

  “Sure. Like Joe Hubbard, that shyster. Nannie sent him to St. Louis to defend you. You know that, don’t you, now? Nannie paid for that.”

  “And ordered him to throw me to the wolves.”

  Again, the bland face frowned. “You can’t believe that. We won’t talk about Joe Hubbard. He’s dead. And there are things Nannie has to say to you he won’t trust me with, or anybody else. Just look back over your career with him, Spears, and then start figuring your friends over again from that angle. You can’t be too stupid, the regard Nannie’s got for you.”

  “There are two reasons,” Tom said quietly, “why I’m not going to talk to Nannie just yet. Both of them are buried out at Forest Lawn.”

  “He’ll talk about that, too. You owe it to him, Tom. Nannie’s a sick man.”

  “My wife’s worse than that; she’s dead. And I was framed for her killing. And you track me around town, working for Nannie. Well, it looks to me like he’s gone heavy, and that scares me.”

  Neilson stared at the gun in Tom’s hand. “It looks to me like you’re the one that’s gone heavy. So, there’s another man looking for you, too. And he’s armed. And he doesn’t work for Nannie. You’re playing it real stupid, Spears. But it’s your neck.”

  He turned his back on the gun and reached for the door.

  Tom said, “You can tell Nannie that I know about him and Lois. I know a hell of a lot more than he gives me credit for. And when I get enough, the police will know it.”

  Neilson looked at him almost pityingly. “Cops. Now we’re hollering cops. Stupid, I know you are, now, but a stoolie — ? Nannie sure had you pegged wrong.”

  He went out, and slammed the door behind him.

  Jean stared at the door for seconds. “Do you still trust Jud Shallock?”

  “Jud’s an organization man. I’m sure he thought it was the best for me.”

  “Or for the organization. Maybe they’ve worked out some kind of deal, Tom. Maybe they can clear you with some cooked up evidence, some shenanigans, prove you didn’t kill your wife. And you’d be free.”

  “Maybe. She wasn’t much. But she was my wife. I want to know who killed her. I want the law to know.”

  Her smile was bitter. “You’ve come over to my side?”

  “I was a bookie,” Tom said softly. “Never any more than that. It’s illegal, but millions don’t think it’s immoral. When was I ever on any side but yours?”

  She didn’t answer that. She stared at him a moment and then she whispered, “Would you kiss me, please, Tom Spears?”

  The slim body close, the light perfume soothing and then his cheek was damp from her tears and he stood back.

  “What now? Why do you cry?”

  “Oh — you and the gun. The lamb with the gun. Why should the lambs have to carry guns?” He didn’t answer.

  “What if he’d made a move for you, Tom? Could you have pulled the trigger?”

  “I don’t know. But neither did he. It was all the edge I needed at the moment, his doubt. You’re no tiger, yourself, Miss Jean Revolt.”

  “I’m beginning to find that out.” She rubbed at her wet cheek with the back of one hand. “Well, this haven is now lost. You’d better come home with me.”

  “He knows you, too, now. I mean Neilson does.”

  “Didn’t he before? Who sent that other man to my place, the one who pretended to be a detective?”

  “Ames Gilchrist, I think. There’s a battle on, Jean, and we’re in the middle of the battleground.”

  Jean picked up her purse. “We mustn’t waste any time. I suppose if Joe worked for Nannie, Nannie knows about me. But I’ve a better hiding place in the house. There’s an entrance to the attic through that closet in Dad’s study. It leads to a separate wing of the house. You couldn’t live up there; the roof’s too low. But you could be safe there if somebody came.”

  “And cornered, if somebody should discover it. I like open ground around me, Jean.”

  “There isn’t any open ground left. Not with two thugs and the police looking for you. Let’s hurry, Tom.”

  It was still gloomy out, and cool. The Plymouth at the curb was the only parked car in the block. “We’re clear enough so far,” Jean commented. “Those glasses do change your looks. You don’t look like a bookie, at all.”

  “I’m not,” Tom said. “Not any more.”

  • • •

  There was some mist in Santa Monica, deepening as they came toward Ocean Avenue. She turned right on Ocean, traveling to its end, following the steep road down to Entrada in the Canyon.

  In the Canyon, the fog was heavy enough to slow traffic to a crawl; visibility was no more than ten feet. It didn’t improve as they climbed toward Jean’s house on the other side of Entrada.

  She was moving in low gear, her gaze concentrated on the unseen road ahead. “Don’t you hate fog?”

  “I don’t mind it. I lived in it for years.”

  “Where? In Frisco?”

  “No, with Lois. Joke.”

  “You and millions of others. How
about me?”

  Tom thought of Connie Garrity’s scorn, and the scorn Connie claimed Joe Hubbard had felt for Jean. He said, “Joe was the man in the fog. He didn’t know when he had a good thing.”

  “Thank you, Thomas Spears. It was a gallant thought, but the reality is that Joe had a lot of good things, which is even better, isn’t it?”

  “I don’t know. I’m monogamous by nature.”

  Nothing from her. The car jolted as she rode too close to the edge of the drive. Around them, now, an almost indistinguishable thinning of the mist as they came to the clearing about the house. Above them towered the mist-shrouded ghost of the giant eucalyptus tree that dominated the parking area.

  “Safely home, anyway,” Jean said, and turned to look at him. “To paraphrase Stevenson, home is the hunted, high on a hill.” A pause. “That was a poor joke. But so was yours about Lois.”

  He climbed out and waited for her and they went across the macadam of the parking area together.

  As she was unlocking the door, she asked, “Are we any closer, Tom? Are we any closer to the truth than we were the day I picked you up in Arizona?”

  “Some. Maybe the murderer isn’t in sight, but we’ve certainly learned enough, haven’t we, about our — friends?”

  She pushed the door open. “Nothing I enjoyed learning. And quite possibly nothing that will do us any damned good.”

  He patted her cheek. “That doesn’t sound like you. That sounds like me. Are we exchanging characters?”

  They were in the entry hall, and Tom closed the door. “You’ve lost nothing, Jean. If I took off, tomorrow, you wouldn’t be in trouble.”

  She faced him bleakly, her eyes searching his.

  He smiled. “Don’t look at me like that. I couldn’t leave you. I was talking about your involvement in my trouble, not in me. You are clear of the trouble, you know. Nobody could prove you helped me.”

  “Nobody but Leonard. I wonder where he is?”

  “He’ll be around. Let’s see that attic hideaway.”

  The entrance to the attic through the study closet was above some shelves and the shelves were strong enough to serve as steps. Tom clambered up and lifted the plywood door. This part of the attic was about four feet high and walled off from the rest of the low attic by the mammoth chimney that served the fireplaces in the living room and study.