A Century of Noir

by Max Allan Collins

  Carol said, “So long, Harold.”

  He didn’t answer. I untied his hands and feet, and while they were still numb, dragged him out of the Jeep. He lay there in the dirt looking up at me, watching the crazy smile I wore while I did all the things I did and I knew that he had found out too. Not a little bit like Carol . . . but like the old man. He knew too.

  We had one hour left. One time around the clock before it was too late. I spun the heap in the dust, rode the gears up as high as I could in second and kept it there. Beside me Carol hung on to the seat back, one hand braced against the dash. Her hair was a blonde swirl in the wind and twice I heard her laugh over the howl of the engine.

  There was only one straight in the road, one half-mile stretch that eased the pull on the shoulders and let the engine go into high.

  I felt Carol’s hand on my arm and looked over at her. There was a smile on her mouth and a lifetime in her eyes. “You’re a great actor, Rich,” she said. I sensed the words more than heard them.

  This time I shook my head. “Hell, I’m no actor.”

  “You’re a great one,” she disagreed with another smile.

  The laugh she heard was something that hadn’t come out of me in a long time. It was a laugh that said everything was screwy funny because it never should have happened at all. Everything was all balled up like a madman’s dream. It was giving a starving man a turkey dinner that was sure to kill him the minute he ate it.

  When we reached the end of the stretch, I was glad. There in the distance was the cabin and the killers and I was glad. There was where the big bang would be and it would all be over. There would be a chance here and a chance there but in the end it would all be the same. You die. You catch the one you didn’t expect and die.

  Up ahead the dust sifted up from the hardpan and I braked easily before I hit it. I pulled in close to the uprise of rock and took out the bags.

  Carol didn’t get it. I winked and said, “Insurance. They’re playing hostage with us. They got what we want. Friend Auger forgot we got what he wants too.”

  She didn’t see where I went and I didn’t want her to. I opened the bag, took out handsful at a time and laid the sacks of money beside definite markers, noting the location of each on the back of a hundred dollar bill. It wasn’t a good job, but if anybody was in a big hurry, they were going to have trouble rounding it all up. When I finished with one, I took the other and did the same across the road. In each bag I left a thousand bucks, neatly-wrapped. Then I started the Jeep up and drove back to the cabin. Someplace behind us the Mayor was staggering to the highway to intercept the posse. It wouldn’t be long now before they found him and followed our trail back.

  There was very little time left at all.

  The killer opened the door with his foot and pointed the one gun at me. He wore a stupid smile on his face and he had sucked on the unlit butt so long the paper was completely wet and starting to unfurl at the end. He said, “Here they are, Mr. Auger.”

  In the soft glow of the kerosene lamp the fat man looked like a little Buddha. “Show them in, Trigger,” he smiled.

  The stiff fingers of the gun muzzles prodded us in. The door was kicked shut again and Trigger mumbled, “Hold still.” His hands did a professional job of patting me down from my chest to my legs. He took a little longer with Carol and kept grinning all the while.

  I was thinking how nice it would be to kill him right there.

  The guns probed the small of our backs again and pushed us forward. Trigger sounded puzzled this time. “They ain’t loaded, Mr. Auger. They didn’t take no guns from Carmen or Leo.”

  “I really didn’t expect them to. It was merely a precaution, Trigger.”

  And in the back where it was dark I heard the Sheriff curse a wild one softly and mutter, “Why didn’t she stay away . . . why!”

  “You had twelve minutes more, Rich.” Auger smiled gently. “You almost didn’t come back?”

  I grinned to him.

  The dark blob on the cot came to his feet slowly and Allen mouthed his murderer’s smile. “He’s been thinking.”

  “That right?”

  I shrugged. “For a while, maybe. It all came to a dead end, so to speak.”

  “You’re a brave man, Rich. There aren’t many left like you. Do you know why?”

  “Sure,” I nodded, “they’re all dead.”

  “Yes.”

  In back of us the killer kicked the door shut. Someplace I heard George, the deputy, sobbing as he breathed.

  Auger asked, “You met anyone?”

  “We met everyone.”

  For a second there was no sound, not even that of someone breathing. Allen took a step forward into the light.

  “So?”

  “They’re turning over every rock. They’ll be here, but not for a while yet.”

  Very slowly, Auger came to his feet. “You told them anything?”

  “I sent them looking for a dead dog,” I said. Then I smiled back at the fat man and put my straw kady on and tapped it in place. I shouldn’t have been so damned wise. Allen took a quick stride and rapped one across my jaw and I went down on the floor with the kady rolling over beside the chair the Sheriff was tied to.

  He looked big, standing over me. He was bastard-mean and big and the cold murder in him was leaking out every pore. He was the methodical kind that looked at life and death with the same expression of contempt and used either to suit his own purpose. The gun came out of his pocket, the hammer was thumbed back and he was smiling . . . smiling hard, even bigger than Auger.

  He stopped smiling when I kicked him across the shins and lost the rod when my other foot caught him in the belly. Trigger picked the gun up, laughed, and it wasn’t at me.

  Auger took the rod from Trigger and said, “All right. Enough, Allen.”

  It took a while for him to talk. It took a time that never seemed to end for him to tear his eyes away from Trigger who still laughed, silently.

  “Enough?” He sucked his breath in deep. “I’m going to kill this boy.”

  “Not now.”

  “So later, Auger. Then I’m going to powder Jason here.”

  Everything got tight too fast. There was a chuckle in Trigger’s throat and Auger said, “Keep it down, laddies. Way down. We have two million in front of us. When there’s shooting to be done, let’s do it right.”

  Money was the magic word. They all looked at the cases on the floor, and I didn’t want them to look too long. I said, “Yeah, think of the loot. Two million bucks which you won’t get without trouble.”

  Auger was the second one who got it. The old man caught it first and his eyes did the talking when they looked at me. They were funny eyes, eyes that had looked over guns, eyes that had looked over corpses, eyes that had seen too much and now they were watching me and laughing hard. They were eyes that had lived too long and didn’t care anymore.

  “Allen . . . open the bags.”

  He had to stoop down close to me and I was almost hoping he’d take another swipe my way. I could feel the tight feeling in my shoulders and down deep in the pit of my stomach unseen hands were tying me into a knot. They squeezed hard and the thing that coursed through me was like a voice saying to be quiet, be still, be patient, for soon it would be over. Soon it could all come out one way or another and then it would be over.

  Allen’s fingers fumbled open the catches, reached in and came out with an expression of disbelief across his face.

  I said, “My hostage, Auger. My guarantee for a few minutes more of living.”

  His neck was livid with rage. It showed there and no place else. His voice was almost conversational. “A trade, perhaps?”

  “Don’t be silly.”

  “Of course not. You die anyway.”

  “But I got more minutes.”

  “Yes, you have that. Where is the money?”

  I turned and looked outside. The sun was settling down into the west, the long fingers reaching out again to probe the hills
and valleys that surrounded the cabin.

  “Someplace there,” I said. “You won’t find it easily.”

  “Why, Mr. Mayor? Shall we squeeze the girl until you show us where you put it?”

  “No.” I laughed and pushed myself up, dusting the dirt off my pants. “I said all I wanted was minutes. I’m stalling.”

  Allen had started to breathe normally again. His face had a flat look and his thumbs were hooked in his belt. “I want to kill this guy, Auger.”

  “Not yet. He hasn’t explained yet.”

  I reached up to my shirt pocket and flipped out the hundred buck bill with the lines and writing on it. I spread it open, folded it lengthwise and sailed it across to Auger. “There it is, friend. Two million bucks. Out there in the brush. You want it, go find it.”

  “He’ll show us,” Allen said.

  Auger had that paternal smile again. “No . . . we really don’t need him, Allen. He’s telling the truth, can’t you see? He wants us to go look for it to give him time. Oh, we’ll be able to find it, but that’s part of the game, see . . . like a treasure hunt. Each find stimulates us to go find the rest before it gets dark and not to go back to see whether or not they’ve broken loose or not. It’s a very cute . . . and daring plan, Allen.”

  “He’s nuts.”

  Auger put the bill in his pocket. “No . . . but shrewd. Not shrewd enough, but shrewd.” He looked at me, his tongue making a wet smear of his lips. He had the stuff in his hands now and he knew it and all he had to do was pull out his ace card.

  “I won’t even bother tying you, Mr. Mayor. Allen and I shall go and leave you in the care and keeping of Trigger here. A pleasant prospect? Trigger . . . would you like that?”

  “I’d like that, Mr. Auger.”

  “We’ll take the patrol car back to the site, pick up the money and come back for you, Trigger. I expect you’ll be alone by then?”

  “I’ll be alone, Mr. Auger.”

  “Take your time, Trigger. Don’t hurry. Let them think some. Let them see how well they didn’t make out after all. You know what I mean, Trigger?”

  “I won’t hurry none, Mr. Auger.”

  Very deliberately, Allen pulled his hand back and cut one across my jaw. My head rocked and I was on the floor again with the taste of blood in my mouth. I said, “Thanks.”

  “No trouble,” Allen said. He bent down, picked up the cases and walked out.

  For the second time I got up off the floor and watched the fat man. He put the gun in his coat pocket and looked up at me. “In a way I’m sorry that I can’t kill you myself,” he said, “but I promised Trigger here the pleasure.”

  “You expect to get away with it?”

  His nod was serious, even to me. “I expect to get away with it.”

  “Want to bet?” I said.

  He smiled for the last time and walked out. The car started, pulled around from the back and Trigger closed the door with his elbow.

  There was a peculiar expression in his eyes. Like hunger.

  Nobody noticed it until the sound of the car diminished into the distance, but there was a clock on the back wall. It was an old fashioned job and the works in it were worn thin. The walls were a sounding board and each tick was loud. There was something unnatural about the sound because it wasn’t ticking us into the future, but bringing us closer to the end of the present.

  Even Trigger noticed it and knew what we were thinking. He liked the idea. It made him king for a minute and gave him the power of life or death over his subjects. He watched the clock and us, his mouth working around the ruins of the cigarette.

  The Sheriff sat there in his chair, roped tight, and I wondered what he had tried while we were gone to get him there. I wondered what happened to his deputy to make him cry like that.

  Then I looked at Carol and wondered why it had to be like this at all. She seemed tired and even while I watched the tears welled up in her eyes.

  “Carol . . .”

  She looked up slowly.

  Behind me Trigger said, “Why don’tcha go kiss her, Mac?”

  “Yeah, thanks,” I said. I crossed the room and held out my hand to her. All she did was touch it.

  The end, I thought. Everything was all gone now. It was over. Climax, anticlimax.

  I turned around and looked at Trigger. “You figure me for a screwball, don’tcha?” he asked me.

  “That’s right.”

  “I ain’t dumb.” He fiddled with the hammers on the guns. “You ain’t the Mayor.”

  “No?” The clock sounded loud again. “Who am I?”

  “You ain’t the Mayor.”

  “I could have told you that.”

  “Nobody really asked, feller.” His smile got real crooked then. “I got the play. Them guys . . .” he jerked his head toward the door, “They’re too smart. They didn’t get you quick like I did, Mac.”

  “No?”

  “Un-uh. You’re a cutie. You figure Allen and Auger, they go out there and get in a rumble about the money. You figure that, don’t you? They rumble and somebody catches it. That it?”

  I shook my head. “Not quite.”

  “That’s good. You figure anything and you die real fast, feller. You and everybody else. Allen and Auger rumble and sure as hell I’ll rumble everybody here. You’ll get real rumbled, boy.”

  I said, “That’s not what I figured.”

  You could hear the ropes creak as the Sheriff tightened his hands on the arm of the chair. His face was a hot white glow of hate, stiff with creases and marked by the slash of his eyes and mouth. “You fool,” he said. “You young damn fool. You could’ve stayed off. You didn’t have to bring her back here. Yourself either.”

  Very quietly Carol said, “He had to, Dad.”

  “Damn fool actor . . .”

  “He’s no actor,” the old man laughed.

  All of us looked at him and I shook my head. I tried to tell him no but he wouldn’t have any part of it. He saw what was coming and wanted in.

  “Pop . . .”

  “You’re no actor like he thinks, are you son? You’re no mayor and no actor at all.” He paused and let the corner of his mouth wrinkle up. “Or maybe you’re an awfully good one.”

  The metallic clicking of the gun hammers was too loud. I turned to where Trigger was standing stiff against the door. “What you figger, man?”

  I looked at my watch. It was about time. They could all know now. I said, “There’s a posse out there, Jason. I made them mad at us and about now they’ll have backtracked us and they can’t miss seeing your pals poking around for that dough. They won’t ask questions. They’ll shoot and that’s all for you.”

  In the back of his eyes a dawn of reason came through. “Not for me. The Jeep is outside. Not for me. Just for you.” His eyes swept the room and the reason left him. He was hungry again. “For all of you.”

  The Sheriff was watching me avidly. There was something drawn about him I didn’t like. “You’re no actor, son?”

  “That’s right. No actor.”

  “Rich . . . ?”

  The old man didn’t let me answer. “He’s not what you think he is, Carol.”

  “Rich . . .”

  “I’m not Thurber, Carol.” Her eyes were even more puzzled now. “I look like him, that’s all. I’m no movie actor. Sometimes it helps to say so.”

  “Rich . . . I love you.”

  “Don’t,” the old man said simply.

  “I’ll always love you, Rich.”

  “Don’t,” the old man said again.

  Across time and space there was just the two of us. Two people looking and saying silent words nobody else in the world could ever understand. There was love, and want, and understanding in that one meeting and a sudden revelation that was so shocking that her eyes could only widen imperceptibly, then go wet with tears.

  It was quiet then. The clock sounded loud and alone until the killer at the door moved. He said, “You called me Jason, mister.”

&nb
sp; “That’s right, Jason.”

  “You’re crazy, mister.”

  “Not me, Jason. Just you. Just you.”

  His mouth made a tight oval. “I don’t care what happens outside now, mister. You know?”

  “It doesn’t matter. It’s over.”

  “Sure it’s over. I can do it now. Like Mr. Auger said, you gimme a reason now.” He licked his mouth, wiping it dry on his shoulder. “I can do it now like I want to and not wait for them to come back.”

  Like an echo from a tunnel the old man’s voice said, “Why don’t you warn the slob?”

  And Jason smiled because he thought the old man was talking to him.

  “I warned him,” he chuckled.

  The clock ticked again, whirred a moment, then struck a quarter hour note on a muffled bell.

  From outside, from someplace far off, came the flat continued cough of a Tommy gun. Another answered it and in agreement was the dull thunder of wide bore rifles and the sharp splat of small arms. It lasted through two minutes and I thought that even before we heard the guns the thing was over out there.

  It was over in here too. All over. Everybody knew it, even Jason. Softly, almost so I didn’t hear it, Carol said, “I love you, Rich . . .”

  And I repeated it. “I love you, Carol.”

  I said it looking at the old man. He shook his head. “Don’t . . .”

  The killer looked at me with those crazy, fruity eyes and I knew we were right at the end. He was grinning real big with his face twisted like he was enjoying it and you could tell that he was all gone upstairs. All gone.

  Carol was crying softly in the corner sitting there with her hands bunched in her lap, fear not even a part of her anymore. She had been afraid too long. There was nothing left except anticipation; dull, deadly anticipation. The killer looked at her, grinned and licked his lips. He didn’t know whether to take her first or last . . . whichever would be better.

  The Sheriff said nothing. There wasn’t an expression on his face either. The ropes holding him down were too tight and his hands looked like white gloves. He was trying to hate the killer to death and it wasn’t working.

  His deputy was crying too. A dry cry like an idiot. With the empty holster on his belt he reminded me of a kid who had fallen down a well while playing cops and robbers.