The Faster She Runs

by Robert Colby

  “But you like him. You think he’s a great guy.”

  She took a long drag on her cigarette, removed a shard of tobacco from the dainty tip of her tongue. “I wouldn’t say that I like him. I respect him—the way you would respect a loaded shotgun. I also find him fascinating—in the same way. What’s more, I owe him a great deal.”

  “And Marian? She’s the worst kind of tramp. What is it that makes you so uncompromisingly loyal to her? What is her fascination?”

  “You answer that,” she said with a biting smile. “You married her, didn’t you?”

  “Sure. But at the time I thought she was a woman, not a snake. She kept her fangs well hidden to the last.”

  “Marian and I worked in the same office. We dated together. We became good friends.”

  “That’s no answer,” he snorted.

  “My God, you’re persistent.”

  “You bet. And you ain’t seen nothin’ yet. I’m going to have my day in court and I’m not leaving until I do, one way or another.”

  She smashed her cigarette. “All right, all right! So I don’t really like Marian at all. She’s a slick phony, she’s cheap and she’s an incurable liar. I never believed her story about inheriting money or the sad tale about having to escape from you because you were such a dreadful monster. I knew she had the hots for Tony and she would run any time he whistled. There’s a certain type of female who looks and acts like a prissy, tea-sipping member of the royal family while underneath she’s an alley cat wailing for a crude Tom just like herself. That’s Marian. And I knew it long before you did. You should have met me years ago. I’d have put you on the right train.”

  “That’s better! Now I’m beginning to like you.”

  “But,” she continued, “Marian once did me a very big favor. And favor is a mild word. I owe her a certain loyalty, though you can stretch loyalty so tight that it snaps right back in your face.”

  She swallowed, as if downing some bitter medicine, and stared off at the dark blanket of water.

  “You seem to be in debt everywhere,” Warren mused. “Tony Viani, now Marian.”

  She turned back. For a moment she fixed him with a searching gaze. “It’s all part of the same evil complex created by Tony. He feeds you with one hand and chains you with the other—the one he hides behind his back.” She sighed. “I guess it won’t do any harm to tell you about it.”

  “It can do a lot of good! We might be able to help each other.”

  At last, he thought. She’s going to stop covering up and tell the truth!

  CHAPTER TEN

  “You have to understand about my brother, Randy,” Anita began. “He has everything to do with my present attitude toward Marian and Tony.

  “It goes back to the time my brother was drafted into the army. He’s twenty-four now, very old and worldly wise for his age. But he seemed just a kid when he put on his uniform a few years ago. In those days he was sensitive. And he was weak—always looking for a soft berth and a free ride. Anyway, he despised the army and after a series of escapades which ended in the guard house, he deserted. Eventually they caught him and he went to prison for a short period. There, he became tough and cynical and he got friendly with some cons who didn’t exactly improve him any.

  “When he was released he wouldn’t go to college and he wouldn’t work. He didn’t do anything but ‘ball it up,’ as he would say—tall drinks and tall women with round heels. He always seemed to have money which he claimed he won at poker, crap, the horses and so on. He was a sullen, arrogant brat and I detested and loved him at the same time. He lived with me because my parents are hard-heads who wouldn’t tolerate him after a few feeble tries at rebuilding him in their image. I tried to help Randy without talking down to him, and every now and then he showed signs of improvement.

  “Then one night there was a hold-up at one of those super liquor stores, a big cut-rate place that’s so busy there are three clerks on every shift, all girls. The owner is usually around, but on this Saturday night he had taken a couple of hours off to go to his own birthday party, so the girls were alone when these two characters walked in waving guns.

  “They were young guys, not much older than my brother. First they made the girls lock up the store and darken it. By then it was near closing time anyway, and no one was apt to be very suspicious. Well, they scooped up the money, a big haul because it was Saturday and the registers had been clanging madly all day and evening. And then they forced those girls into the back room, the storeroom, where they ripped their clothes off and raped them. In fact those animals made the girls do some things which the papers called too obscene to print. One of the girls put up a fight and she was beaten unconscious.

  “Finally they locked the girls in that storeroom, grabbed all the booze they could carry and escaped. But they were ex-cons and the girls identified them from pictures in a mug book. Three nights later they were caught celebrating in a dive where they usually hung out with an assortment of free-wheeling dames.

  “When they were caught, Randy, my brother, was with them.”

  She paused, puffed her cigarette, drank. She watched his face for a reaction.

  “I saw it coming,” said Warren. “Go on.”

  “Well, these sterling playmates of my brother swore he was with them on the night of the hold-up and rape. They said Randy was the lookout man, the driver, and it was his car that was used in the getaway. One of the ex-cons had served time with my brother—and that was bad, though Randy denied everything.

  “Furthermore, some of the booze from the store was found in the trunk of his car, and he had over eight hundred dollars cash in his wallet. He explained that he won the liquor and the money from these hoods in a card game. But of course the cops laughed him right into a cell. He was indicted with the others and held for trial.

  “At this point my family couldn’t even remember his first name and would never admit his last. So it was all up to me. I didn’t know where to turn. I didn’t even have the money to make bail.

  “Then I thought of Marian. She was all but married to Tony and I knew he had all kinds of connections and might be able to steer me to one of those sharpies who lend money at cutthroat interest. Forty, fifty per cent, whatever it was, I didn’t care. I needed a good lawyer and then there was the bail. So I told Marian the whole story and asked her if she could get Tony to introduce me to a loan shark. I had tried the banks and the finance companies and they had brushed me with the sort of polite smiles that are more like sneers.

  “I didn’t really expect much help from Marian because she seldom put herself out unless there was something in it for her. But, to my surprise, she said not to worry about anything, she would persuade Tony to look into my brother’s case and see if he couldn’t get Randy off the hook.

  “Well, in a few words, Tony called me and said he was sending his own lawyer down to see Randy and that my brother would be out in a few hours. He was, too! He was there when I got home that night. Next thing you know, those cons had changed their story. They admitted Randy wasn’t along with them on the night of the robbery after all. And why did they frame him? A grudge. They were furious because he won most of the money they had stolen from the liquor store.

  “So the D.A. got the indictment nullified and the charges were dropped for lack of evidence. Of course Tony was behind it. He got word to those thugs that if they didn’t reverse their story they’d never leave prison alive. His pals on the inside would see to it. And now maybe you understand why I owe so much to Marian and Tony.”

  Warren nodded. “I get the picture. And what of your brother? Do you think he was guilty?”

  She chewed her lip. “I know he was guilty. He came home loaded one night and confessed the whole thing to me. He bragged about it. We had a big scene and the next day he moved out.”

  “What’s he doing now?”

  “Tony gave him a job as a glorified errand boy for a time. Then Tony left and Randy amazed me by getting married to a nice, who
lesome little girl whose father owns a taxi cab company. The girl was a good influence it seems, because Randy settled down and now he’s a dispatcher for his father-in-law’s cab company. Stays out of trouble so far as I know. But he never forgot Tony, still thinks he’s a god and can do no wrong.”

  They were silent for awhile. Then Warren asked, “Do you really think Tony Viani is still just a big-time bookie?”

  She shook her head. “No, not any more. I asked Marian and she said he’s out of the gambling racket. In this town the risk is too great these days.”

  “In that case, what kind of swindle would bring him a quarter of a million bucks cash?”

  “A quarter of a million! I can’t imagine. What makes you think he has that kind of money?”

  “I saw it with my own eyes.”

  He went on to relate the events of the evening. It could do no harm since she could tell Tony nothing which he would not soon know himself firsthand. As a matter of precaution, he did not tell her where he had hidden the money.

  When he had finished she said, “God, Almighty, if you don’t catch the next plane going anywhere, you’re the biggest damn fool who ever lived! You’re in more danger than I could hope to make you understand. Run out of here. Don’t tell me where you’re going—just go!”

  He smiled. “You know I won’t do that. Besides, Viani is not superhuman. He’s just a man. I’m going to outguess and outthink him all the way. And if not, what’s the worst that can happen to me?”

  “You can die very suddenly.”

  “Exactly. And is that so bad?”

  “Did you really care that much about her?”

  He shrugged. “Let’s say that I’m completely disenchanted with just about everything I used to hold so goddamn sacred.”

  “You’ll get over it in time. And then you’ll want to live as much as ever.”

  “Maybe. Right now I only want to drink the bitter-sweet nectar of revenge. Just give me a foot in the door so I can nail Viani to my cross. What’s he up to? You must have some idea. Marian has a careless tongue. She never could keep a secret.”

  “True. But when her life’s at stake, even she can keep a secret. Tony would strangle his own mother if she crossed him. Marian did say that Tony had a fantastic scheme for making money in bales and that when this scheme made them rich in the next few weeks, Tony was going to retire and they were going to live in respectable splendor the rest of their lives.”

  “Nothing else?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Then, why were you so worried that everyone, including yourself, would get into trouble if I went to the police?”

  “Well, naturally I knew Tony wasn’t running a bingo game to make himself rich. If he got arrested, I might get hurt by association. I’ve been out with Tony and his bunch from time to time.”

  “Have you? That surprises me.”

  “It does? That’s because you’re not a secretary making seventy-five a week, Miami scale. That’s what Food Thrift pays me for being Girl Friday to their general manager. And when I go out with the Viani troop, which includes Tony, his two pals and Marian, Tony has a habit of slipping a fifty or a hundred dollar bill into my purse. And don’t raise your eyebrows, there are no sneaky obligations. I make gay faces and gay sounds, I laugh at their crude corn—but I go home alone.

  “Why Tony helps me is a mystery. He pretends it’s just because he likes me. I seem to be getting a free ride. Actually, I have the feeling that I’m being buttered up and that one day Tony will swallow me whole.”

  Warren nodded. “You can count on it. But just because you’ve been around with that Viani bunch isn’t enough to get you into any serious trouble, no matter what game they’re playing. You’re holding out. There must be something more.”

  She studied her glass, twirling it thoughtfully. She drank. “Say, did I tell you? These Black Russians are good! And I’ll bet the Russians never heard of them.”

  “No, the Russians couldn’t afford them. And you’re stalling.”

  She frowned, then looked up suddenly. “All right, I’m going to trust you. Mostly because I don’t have another soul to talk to about this and it’s a lonely burden to carry.”

  “I understand all about lonely burdens. Shoot.”

  “Well, my real problem is Randy. I think he’s involved and I’m only going along with Tony so I can find out how and why. You see, I was invited to a party at Tony’s one night last week. I arrived a bit early, just in time to see Randy leaving.

  “I asked him what he was doing there and he said, just a drink with an old friend. Tony was like a father to him. Didn’t Tony come through when he could have gone to prison for God knows how many years? Didn’t Tony save him? Sure, and that’s the sort of hero worship that will trap Randy into another bad jam. Randy was doing fine until Tony came back. Now I’m worried.”

  Warren said, “Maybe there’s nothing to it. Maybe he was just having a friendly drink with Viani.”

  “Never. Tony does not waste time with friendly drinks. There’s a sly motive behind every move he makes. If he invited Randy to his house it was to use him as a part of some evil scheme.”

  She gulped her drink. When she put the glass down, her eyes were misty and withdrawn. “Tony Viani is a disease. He infects everyone he touches. Like all diseases, he’s got to be isolated, or destroyed. Now, come on, I think it’s time you took me home.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Tony Viani glared down at the others seated around the kitchen table. He stood leaning toward them across the back of a chair, his heavy features reflecting the dark, brooding threat of his anger. He pushed his coffee cup aside and, like the gavel of an irate judge, the hairy knob of his big fist pounded the table for attention.

  “Now goddamn it,” he said. “there’s got to be an answer! And we’re gonna come up with that answer if we have to kick this around till dawn!”

  “Yeah, and that’s not far away,” said Harry Rosen. He gulped coffee, glancing at his watch. “It’s a quarter to four already.”

  “That’s the point,” Tony said. “We’re gonna have to jump Emrick in a hurry, before he gets outta town.”

  “First we gotta find him,” said Earl Lubeck. “It’s one helluva big city, you know.”

  Tony’s eyes narrowed as they fell upon Marian. She had changed into a sweater and skirt and now she sat staring down meekly into her coffee, as if even to look at Tony might remind him of his conviction that she was the cause of his trouble.

  “Don’t just sit there, you stupid bitch!” Viani growled. “You know this guy, you played footsy with him for three years—so think like he thinks. Where would he go with that quarter million?”

  “I don’t know,” said Marian, glancing up cautiously. “He might have been satisfied. He might have gone back to New York. If not, he’ll hang around to see what else he can do to you—and me. If I know him, he probably wants to—”

  “Wants to what!”

  “Wants to beat you up.”

  “Me! Emrick beat me up?” Tony’s laughter, ponderous as the roll of a kettle drum, filled the room. “Jesus Christ, I’d like to see him try. You find the bastard and make an appointment, huh, baby? I’ll open him up like an autopsy with my bare hands.”

  “I wouldn’t underestimate him,” said Marian. “He’s no flabby weakling. He was once Golden Gloves champion.”

  “Golden Gloves!” Tony snorted. “I suppose he works out at the Athletic Club with the rest of those white-collar pansies. You’ve got a lot to learn, kiddo. When your boy falls dead he won’t be wearin’ gloves. And because you underestimated him and it cost me a fortune, I’m gonna teach you a few things, too. Wait ’n see!”

  “I was only trying to help,” said Marian weakly.

  “I think we should blow to some other part of town,” Lubeck suggested. “This Emrick knows where we are and he might tip the cops.”

  “Why should he tip the cops?” Tony reasoned. “In the first place he’s got all that loot he st
ole from us and he couldn’t keep it if he brought the law. Second, he don’t have an idea what we’re doin’. So what’s he gonna talk about?

  “Now this crappy chit-chat is getting nowhere. Let’s start from the beginning. How did Emrick find us? If we know that we should be able to find him.” Viani massaged his nose with a thick finger and washed his mouth with coffee. “All right, so this wise guy is kind of clever, we’ll say. He’s a real bright boy and we give him a gold star for brains, but he’s no psychic genius. He don’t look into a crystal ball and see us here in this house like on TV.

  Hell no! What’s more, he didn’t have clue one that I know of.” He threw a brief, probing look at Marian. “So someone had to tell him where to find us.”

  “Right,” said Lubeck. “Now all you got to do is call off the names of everyone who knew about this pad and eliminate.”

  “Okay!” Tony banged his cup down. “That’s it! Now there’s the three of you here to start with. Did one of you open your trap anywhere? Harry?”

  “Not me, Tony.”

  “Earl?

  “You think I’m crazy?”

  “Yeah, when you’re drunk.”

  “The answer is no, Tony. Drunk or sober, n-o.”

  “Marian?”

  “Of course not. You know me, Tony.”

  “Damn right. And that’s why I’m askin’. So think hard.”

  “Well, naturally I didn’t even hint to Warren. You know that.”

  “Don’t tell me what I know! Did you open your trap to anyone else?”

  “You have my word, Tony.”

  “Your word,” he sneered. “Okay, so who does that leave? The kid, Randy? Not a chance. You could cut his ears off and he wouldn’t squeal. Besides, how would he ever come in contact with Emrick?”