Sin In Their Blood

by Ed Lacy

  The hoods showed their delight with this piece of sharp wit. I started for the nearest table, to put the camera case down, when Tops slapped me across the side of my face. It wasn't much of a slap, I was going away from it, and the cashier looked at the headwaiter who came over and one of the punks snarled something at him.

  I put the camera down gently, picked up a napkin and started to wrap it around my right fist, when Tops said, “Guess you didn't run fast enough—not a bad black eye. I'm going to match it!” and he came at me. He was a brawler and came in wide open—I slipped the obvious right and crossed my left to his nose. It was the first solid punch I'd landed in a hell of a long time and it felt good... it broke his nose. Ducking under his left I split his eye open with a short right and his face was covered with blood. Tops stupidly raised both his hands to his bloody puss, as some women screamed, and I banged him in the guts so hard the food he'd just eaten came bursting out of his open, gasping mouth, as he went down. Only a little of it sprayed on me— good old Matt, the mess target!

  The two punks stood there, undecided as to what their move was and I grabbed the first one, spun him around, got a grip on the bottom of his coat and split it up the back to the collar. The joker went as pale as if he'd been socked. I had to hit the other jerk, he was reaching for something. I jabbed him in the middle of his striped vest and he sat down.

  Max, the waiters, and a few of the patrons came over. Max flashed his badge, assured everybody things were under control. He winked at me, said, “Clear case of assault and battery. I'll...”

  “Forget it.”

  “But...?” Max began.

  “You want these clowns for anything special?” I asked, knowing they wouldn't be eating in the Roma if Max was looking for them.

  “No. But if you...”

  “Then forget it.” Tops was sitting on the floor, bent over, blood and vomit dripping from his mouth. The hood on the floor was pressing his stomach, about to get sick. The other punk was holding his torn coat about him like a girl caught undressed. I pushed the door open and Tops fell out backwards. Taking the sick punk by the collar, I lugged him outside, dropping him on Tops so his clothes would get dirty as they threw up over each other. Motioning for the busboy, I told him, “Clean up this mess,” and turning to the slob in the torn coat, I said, “Give him a fin for his trouble, and get your two jerky pals off the street. Tell Tops to stay out of my way—all the way out.”

  The guy nodded and shoved a bill at the delighted busboy, then ran out, helped the other two into a flashy car parked at the curb. I picked up my camera and followed Max to his table. I ordered a glass of stout, brushed the few spots off my coat with a napkin, and holding my hands under the table, took my pulse. The ticker wasn't pounding too much.

  Max said, “That's more like the old Matt who...”

  “Stop it, I'm through with the rough and tumble act. Just a special lesson for Tops.” I knew Max was glad I hadn't pressed charges—Tops swung too much weight. Max hadn't even frisked the hoods—they probably had gun permits.

  I sipped my stout and felt better, although I could feel the sweat running from my armpits. Max pointed at the camera case. “Taking pictures?”

  “Hobby I picked up in the hospital. Part of my adjusting to civilian life.”

  Max nibbled on a celery stalk. “Still pack the old wallop. Bet you could take most of the heavies in the ring today.”

  “That's all I need.”

  “When you getting your license again?”

  “I don't know. Way taxes are, I'm better off living on my tax-proof pension. Maxie, know a good private dick down in Atlanta that I can use for some confidential work?”

  “Anything I can put through an official request to the Atlanta police for? Be glad to...”

  “Nope, this isn't anything for the cops. In fact, want you to forget you ever gave me the guy's name.”

  “Saxton?”

  I looked him in the eye and laughed. “My girl has a lost uncle down there, I'm tracing him.... in case he dies and leaves her a million.

  Max shrugged and rubbed some whiskers he'd forgotten under his nose, then wrote a name and address down on a paper napkin, gave it to me, asked in a hoarse voice, “Anything else?”

  “Aha. Where was Henry Wilson born?”

  He threw his pencil on the table. “Why don't you lay off?” he asked wearily. I finished my drink, took a vitamin pill as he got up and used the phone on the cashier's desk. When he returned he said, “According to our records, he was born in Savannah, Georgia. Why?”

  “Nothing. And thanks.” I stood up. “By the way, can you lend me fifty—till I get my pension check?”

  “I'll have to go home. Libby has money. I only got twenty on me.”

  “Twenty will do... for the time being.”

  I thanked him for the two tens and went to the nearest bank and changed one bill into silver and found a phone booth. I called the dick in Atlanta, person to person, the coins ringing so many bells it sounded like a one-armed bandit paying off. This dick had a shrill voice, or it could have been the connection. I told him, “A friend, Captain Max Daniels, recommended you. Want you to put in a day or two getting some confidential info. There's a doctor someplace in Georgia named Snell. Probably lives and practices in some small country village. I want the name of that wide spot in the road, also the doc's present address. He's an old man and I have a hunch there's more than an even chance he died a few months ago. I want all the towns he ever practiced in, especially the towns he worked in about thirty years ago. Also want to know if there's a birth record of a Henry Wilson in any of these towns. He's about 29 or 33, don't know if he's colored or white. Also see if you can find any of Wilson's relatives—if he has any. All on the quiet. Got that?”

  “Why, sure. That'll be fifty a day and expenses.”

  “Okay, but don't run up too many days. And if you can get all the info in one day, I'll pay a hundred and fifty.”

  “You got a deal. What address shall I send the dope to?”

  “I'll phone you again in the morning.”

  There was a moment of hesitation, then he asked, “When do I get a retainer?”

  “I'm wiring you fifty at once.”

  “I'll get started—soon as I get the fifty. You haven't told me your name?”

  “It's Smith, John Smith. It's that kind of a case.”

  “Get your money here—money don't know no name.”

  I hung up and waited for the operator to tell me how many more quarters I had to drop in. There was little chance the guy would call Max and check—he wouldn't waste that long distance money on a hundred-buck case.

  When I paid up, I got Harry Loughlin's home number from information and Flo's sexy voice said, “Hell-low?”

  “Hello, baby. I....”

  “Matt! Knew you'd call.” She said it so loudly, Harry couldn't have been home. He should be drinking with Joe.

  “Look, I'm calling as a buddy-buddy. I need a hundred bucks for a few weeks. Can....?”

  “Be on my horse and wherever you are in five, minutes, darling.”

  I told her to meet me outside the telegraph office and I only had to wait a few minutes when she drove up in her roadster. I told her to park and soon as I got in, she threw her arms around me and. I kissed her hard on the cheek, fondled her breasts slightly, and she said, “Ah, honey!”

  “Don't start that, this is only a loan. The romance is still out.” Her perfume smelled great and I wondered what it was called, wanted to buy Mady some. The kid never used perfume.

  She opened her bag, took out a wallet stuffed with folding money. She tossed it in my lap. “Take two hundred, take it all. Matt, I...”

  “Slow down,” I said, counting out five twenties. “Be back in a moment.” I went into Western Union and wired the guy seventy-five bucks and when I came out and got into the car, she asked, “Where to, hon?”

  “The Lagoon.” This was a cheap bathing resort and amusement park not far from White Bea
ch.

  As she drove she kept playing with my thigh with her free hand and when I told her to cut it out, she asked, “Matt, when you going to stop teasing me?”

  “Was I ever a tease? Romance is out. I told you that. Things are different since I came out of the hospital.”

  “You told me that too. I'll wait... a little longer. Need any more cash?”

  “Baby, don't be oversweet. No.”

  When we reached the Lagoon I told her to stop in front of a small hotel and she asked, “You living in this dump?”

  “Not exactly. I'm scratching around, trying to get located.”

  “Matt, tell me true, there isn't another dame?” She leaned toward me.

  “Stop that,” I said, watching her mouth.

  She sat back. “Harry says he offered you...”

  “I don't like Harry's work. Flo, what kind of perfume you using?”

  “Why?”

  “Like to give you a bottle, as interest, when I pay back the hundred.”-

  “You know what I want you to give me, Matt.” She started for me again and I opened the door and slid out of the car.

  “It's easier for me to give you the perfume. What's it called?”

  “It's called, go to hell you two-timing son of a bitch!” she snapped and drove off.

  I got a bus to White Beach, wondering how women knew these things so damn fast.

  When I got to the cottage Mady was waiting and I kissed her, mumbled, “Baby, you don't need any perfume.”

  “What?” She sniffed at me, said, “You've been around some chick using Heavenly Drops—ten bucks a dram, or some such fantastic price.”

  I grinned. “All in line of duty—don't worry. Anybody call for me?”

  “No. And you can't make me jealous. As you said, we're alike. Bet you never got along with a girl so well before?”

  “That's so,” I said, hugging her and thinking how damn true it was. “Never cared for a girl before—except to sleep with—and I suppose that's how they felt about me. Always got restless with me. Had to keep themselves busy—refurnishing my place, or go on a clothes binge, or one even went in for a correspondence course—anything to keep them busy. Of course, they were all hit-and-jump affairs, only playing me for a meal ticket.”

  “Not just for a meal ticket—with those shoulders. And why are women always looking for meal tickets? Don't men, too?”

  “Men happen to be the breadwinners in our society.”

  Mady gave me a mock sneer, “Balls.”

  “Why don't you say 'Breasts'?”

  “Don't you start making fun of me. Speaking of jobs, I've been out looking. I start Monday as cashier in a movie house near here. Forty a week—means about twenty-eight take home pay.”

  “Yeah,” I said, which didn't mean anything. I didn't want her to start working so soon—we hardly had any time together. But the routine of a job might be what she needed.

  I let go of her and walked into the kitchen, took a pill with a glass of water. She pointed to my skinned knuckles as I was holding the glass. “Must have been a tough gal you were out with.”

  “Oh that—I stumbled on an old friend.”

  “Matt, if it's none of my business, say so, but what are you up to? I'm just so afraid of you getting hurt, I mean...”

  “Don't worry about me, I...”

  “Don't give me any of that man talk—I do worry!” Mady said.

  I sat on a kitchen chair, pulled her down on my lap. “Okay, you have a right to know, but one thing—I don't want you to repeat this to anybody.”

  “Repeat what?”

  “I'm doing a little free detective work... I'm going to send Willie Saxton the Third to the gas chamber for killing his sister and brother-in-law.”

  Mady jumped off my lap, stared at me bug-eyed. “Saxton?”

  “You said yourself you didn't believe Henry Wilson was a murderer. It kind of narrows down to Saxton, doesn't it? That's why you have to keep this quiet.... Willie doesn't have a thing to lose by killing again.”

  “Saxton?” Mady repeated, and shivered. “He's a louse, but I never thought of him as a killer. And he was here all Sunday night.”

  “How do you know? Baby, when you're sleeping off one, you're out. You know that.”

  “That's so, and I really tied one on that weekend.... That was only a few days ago and it seems like years. Are you sure he did it?”

  “I've been sure all along.”

  “Then why didn't you...?”

  “I didn't give a damn before now... I've taken a great dislike to him, so exit Saxton the Third: justice shall triumph, praise the Lord and pass the gas chamber.”

  Mady shuddered. “You seem almost happy about it.”

  “I feel good. Like I smacked a guy down today who... well, I feel good about that too. The important thing is, I feel like working. As for Saxton, he means nothing more to me than stepping on a fly that's annoying us. Does he mean anything to you?”

  “What kind of a crack is that?”

  I stood up, took her hand. “It's just that you seem upset over my gunning for him.”

  Mady squeezed my hand tightly. “Because he's mean and nasty... and now you say he's a killer. I'd snap my cap if anything happened to you.”

  I kissed her, nibbled at her lips. “Don't worry about it—I can give Saxton lessons in how to be a nasty joker—if I want to. Now forget everything I told you... you think I'd let anything like Saxton spoil what we have?”

  “No, you wouldn't,” she said, giving me a long, hard kiss. Then she pulled out of my arms, smiled, said, “There's work to be done. I'll make up the bed, you dust the living room.”

  “Yes ma'am.”

  She took a dust cloth out of the closet and I went to work. It was after three and about ten minutes later the phone rang. It was Joe and he sounded jittery. He was parked around the corner and I told him I'd be right there. I put the camera away in my room, told Mady I was going out again. She said, “Saxton?”

  “No—Some more free work, for a friend.”

  “You're sure friendly. My rival with the stink-water?” .

  “Wrong again—a man.”

  “One you skinned your knuckles on?”

  “My, my, you think I've only one friend in the world? It's your brother Joe.”

  “What are you two cooking up?”

  “A little money-saving scheme.”

  Mady laughed, fine deep laughter that tickled me. “Watch out for Joe, those civil service characters are always thinking up some racket to make an extra buck. Where'd you get the camera?”

  “Rented it. Joe and I are going to take dirty pictures,” I said, ducked her slap, and walked out of the house.

  Joe had on his blue-gray postman's uniform and he looked as sloppy as in his regular suit. I sat beside him, asked, “How did things go?”

  “Loughlin was sore about stalling him in the bar. I'm to meet him tonight in Seward Park at seven sharp.”

  “Fine. Pick me up at the house at six-fifteen. You tell the barkeep about Harry being a pansy?”

  Joe nodded, mumbled, “Jesus, I hate this! I know he's putting the screws on me, but there must be some other way of getting back at him.”

  “What other way? Unless you want to stand up and fight his charges, and as you said, you'll lose your job.”

  “I know, I'm doing what you told me.”

  “Now the most important piece of business will be in the park. You walk with him till you reach this bench we pick out—and it has to be that bench. I'll be hiding nearby and you sit down first and...”

  “You told me all that last night.”

  “Unless we get a shot of him sitting on your lap, the whole deal is a bust. Soon as he hits your lap, start fighting. He'll grab your shoulder to keep from falling—that's the picture we want. Then you go into your act, calling him a...”

  “I know what to do! Let's not keep talking about it.”

  He was too nervous, so I said, “Go home and relax— take a c
ouple of drinks. But don't get stiff on me.”

  “What I need is sleep. Couldn't shut my eyes last night. Damn heavy delivery today, too. Lot of magazines and ads.”

  “See you at six-fifteen, and be on time,” I said, opening the door. “I have to return to my dusting.”

  He smiled for the first time. “Mady must really go for you. Dusting!”