Dead Game

by Michael Avallone

  I cursed. I was surprised when I heard myself. I felt saliva in my mouth. It trickled down my chin unretarded by any gag.

  Trilly spun around like a top. He loped over and set me and the chair upright again with ridiculous ease. His big face pushed into mine. His breath was hot, angry.

  “Quick recovery, Noon. But keep your lip buttoned. We got plenty of handkerchiefs.”

  Shouting would only get me some bruises. My head hurt plenty as it was. My brain had already given me that message, too. Pain was starting to lift the back of my head off.

  “Why don’t you give him a break, Trilly? He looks like he’s had enough.”

  The smell in the room was stronger now. My stomach curled, tripped over itself, and got up slowly.

  Trilly chuckled. I hated him then. As much as I’ve ever hated anybody. And I had my answer for all those people who wondered why a guy like me is in the racket he’s in. This was a real answer for them. To stop brutality where I could, indecency, injustice—okay, they’re stuffy words. But what the hell do you call torture? Pat phrases like man’s inhumanity to man aren’t nearly good enough.

  “It’s his play, Noon. It’s all over when he tells us where that dough is.”

  “Dammit, he doesn’t know! You two must be crazy. This kind of stuff went out with Capone …”

  “I don’t give a damn.” Mrs. Arongio whipped around to where I could see her. “He’s got it coming. The bastard. Look what he did to me! He’ll tell us where that money is or I’ll burn his damn feet off.”

  I stared at her. The veil had come off when she had removed her hat some time while I was under the weather. The picket-fence formation of her teeth and the purple swellings of her eyes and nose and the demon that was in her, animating everything she said and did, made her one frightening valentine.

  “You’ll do that to him for money? For money. The things people will do for that filthy stuff. This little stunt will rate you both some stretch in the hoosegow. Judges in this country hate this sort of thing worse than murder. Think it over.”

  Mel Trilly’s big hand crashed across my face, open-handed.

  “Shut up. No one’s askin’ you.” But I could see he had paled a little under his ball player’s tan.

  “Thanks, pal.” I tongued some blood away from my lips. “I’ll do as much for you some time.”

  Trilly ignored me. “Give me your scarf, Kitty. He talks too much. Too much of the time.”

  She loosened up the orange fluff at her throat and handed it to him. I had to move fast or Arongio was really in for it. A stall would save him a lot of hotfoots. But it would have to be a good one.

  I made it good.

  “I can do you a lot more good than Buffalo Bill can.”

  Trilly stopped playing with the scarf.

  “Keep talkin’.”

  “Arongio left the dough with me. It’s back at the office.”

  He laughed right in my face. The scarf twirled in his thick fingers, tightened into a hard band of fabric.

  “Save your spiel. I wasn’t born yesterday.”

  “I don’t get you, Trilly.” I made my voice as sincere as possible, which was some trick considering the shape I was in. And I didn’t stop to ask myself why I was doing all this for a cop killer. “Where’s a better place? Arongio couldn’t leave it in the antique shop. The cops are all over the place. It’s a cinch he wouldn’t keep it here for safekeeping. Too risky. Rooms get cleaned up. Besides, he wouldn’t want to be found with it. The cops want him for murder. They catch him, they take the money, and he hasn’t even got a nest egg to warm his nights in jail. And he couldn’t go any place to stash it. He’s hot right now. Don’t be a sap. You’ve worked on him long and hard and he didn’t spill. It’s back in my office. Go see for yourself.”

  He wasn’t laughing any more. Just mad and suspicious. He open-handed me again, short and hard.

  “Why didn’t you tell us before?”

  I smiled at him through the pounding in my face and brain.

  “Because you’ve got such lousy manners.”

  His hand drew back but Kitty Arongio stopped him. He shook her off and glared down at me.

  “It’s worth a try, Mel,” she said, anxiety leapfrogging over the words. “Carl might be out for another half-hour. You could use Noon’s car, take a fast look …”

  “No, no.” His big head wagged. “It’s a stall. This guy’s playin’ for time.”

  “Suit yourself,” I said. “Wake Arongio up and play with some more matches. And then when the pain is too much for him, he’ll tell you what I just told you. My office all the time.”

  Kitty Arongio stared at me intently. “Where in your office?”

  “Desk drawer. Lower left. You have to take the drawer out. The dough’s in a Manila envelope. Twenty one-thousand-dollar bills. And all green.”

  It sounded right the way I said it. Either way, when you’re in the spot they had gotten themselves in, you have to try any out, no matter what your common sense or your instinct tells you.

  Trilly made up his mind. He dug my car keys out of my side pocket. He had one pleasant reminder to leave with me.

  “If you’re lyin’, pal, when I get back you’ll wish you never learned how to talk.”

  I let it ride. I had what I wanted. I had bought some breathing time for Arongio. I stole a glance at him. He was still out cold.

  Trilly handed the big gun to Kitty Arongio. She took it nervously. That made me nervous. About the only thing that scares me about a gun is the nervous person who’s holding it.

  Trilly sensed my feelings and chuckled again.

  “Don’t take any of his lip, kitten. Use the scarf if you wanta. Or the gun if you have to.”

  “Thanks, Mel, old pal,” I said. “And to think my favorite ball player was Mel Ott. I never thought I’d get to hate the name Mel.”

  He looked exasperated with me but he left, closing the door softly behind him. A key turned in the lock. Then his footsteps went away.

  Kitty Arongio went over to the bed and shoved Mimi Tango over to one side on her stomach. Mimi seemed to have passed out. Her eyes were closed. Nerves, fright, or exhaustion. Any one of the three or a combination would have done it. Her shapely legs and perfectly curved rump seemed to antagonize the distaff Arongio. A look passed over her face that only a woman can have for a rival. Or just any other woman.

  She sat down on the edge of the bed, the gun resting in her lap. She stared at me in a long silence.

  The antique monstrosity in her hand made me think of one thing. Arongio’s antique shop.

  “Tell me one thing, Kitty,” I said. “How can you do this to a guy who named his whole business after you?”

  She showed me her teeth.

  “It’s easy,” she hissed. “Because that was all he ever did for me …”

  NINETEEN

  She controlled herself with an effort. The spasmodic jerk of her head told me she didn’t want to talk about it any more. But I did. I had to move fast.

  I broke the ice again. “How’d you tie in with Trilly? He’s a bad apple.”

  “I don’t have to tell you anything.”

  “No, you don’t.” She had me there. “But we got a long wait for Mr. Trilly. We might as well chin a little.”

  She didn’t say anything but lit up a cigarette. My eyes pleaded with her. She made a show of annoyance but got up, came over, put one in my mouth. She fired it with hers.

  “Thanks,” I said. “That’s real neighborly.”

  She bit her lips like she was trying to make up her mind about something. Suddenly Arongio groaned. It wasn’t much of a sound. Just a feeble whimper like a baby makes who is uncomfortable while sleeping but not uncomfortable enough to waken.

  “Doesn’t sound pretty,” I said. “But what you’re doing to him isn’t pretty either.”

  She sneered. “Don’t you think he had it coming?”

  “Depends on the point of view. For my dough, an eye for an eye is a silly thin
g to go by. I want my own eyes. Not somebody else’s.”

  She was still sneering. “What’s your motto, Noon?”

  “Old Mary Daprato used to tell me, ‘Love many, trust few, always paddle your own canoe.’ I’d say that makes a lot of sense, wouldn’t you?”

  “Oh, shut up!” she barked. She began to pace the floor, flinging a glance from time to time at her husband. But he was still dead to the world. His bear’s head lolled helplessly on his chest.

  “Okay, Kitty,” I said, the cigarette dangling from my lips. “I’ll talk and you’ll listen. You rang Trilly in on this deal to use as a strong arm. You wanted a bruiser to slug the way clear ahead of you. I guess Lake must have introduced you to each other way back when. You might even have double-dated while you were double-crossing your husband. Trilly is a bum. The money is all that counts to him. After he gets the dough, then what?”

  She laughed. “Twenty thousand bucks is all the dough I need right now. The Bahamas—South America. What’s the difference? I got to get away and now. Carl never gave me a dime while we were married. His money was all tied up in that crummy shop and buying his precious old relics. I never even got a fur coat out of him. Well, this’ll make up for plenty of things. Then let the future take care of itself.”

  “What kind of future? Dodging cops, dead people all around you for memories. Did you really love Lake?”

  “Cut it out.” Her voice was the edge of a grinding file. “I can still use the scarf.”

  “Sure. I’ll cut it out. But think about it. Money or no money, Lake is still dead and the cops will have to have their man.” I set my lips. “Mel Trilly could have killed Lake. Very easily. I could fix it that the police know he killed Lake. Do you follow me?”

  She walked over to me and yanked the butt out of my mouth.

  “Am I hearing you right, Noon?”

  I looked up at her. I let my voice get husky.

  “I want to get away too, Kitty. I’m sick of chasing people. All of this. Kitty, I’ve had a yen for you since you walked into my office …”

  That got a reaction. Not the one I wanted. Her head went back and she laughed like crazy. To beat the band. Then just as suddenly, she sobered and leaned over me. Her breasts bobbed.

  “Stop it,” she panted. “Look at me. What man would have me now?”

  “Don’t be a chump, Kitty. A couple of dentures, a nose bob, and you’ll be as good as new. Your figure was made for bathing suits and you’re a natural redhead. What more can you want?”

  “Don’t kid me, fella. It’s not nice …”

  “We could do things together, baby. Pick me out of the crowd and I’ll be your boy.”

  “Noon, for God’s sake—”

  “Ed, Kitty. Ed.”

  I was playing her as well as I knew how. She was a dame who’d had a bad time the last two days wondering if she’d ever be attractive to a man again. And I’m six feet and even my worst enemy wouldn’t describe me as homely.

  The gun in her hand dangled floorward. She dropped it on the bed. I watched her, waiting. She came toward me slowly, her breath short and hurried. Her face was still all beat up but there was plenty of woman coming at me. Everything rolled when she walked.

  She was on my lap before I could think about it. Me with my hands belted behind my back. She forced my head back and stared me right in the eye. Her lips were moist and shining. The something in her eyes was what kids have a hard time understanding until they grow up.

  “You’ll help me, Ed … ?” The words faltered out of her almost in time to the rise and fall of her heaving breasts. Low, husky. “You’ll tie this thing on Trilly, help me get the dough? You’re smart, Ed. I always liked a smart man. You’re a man, Ed …”

  “Say the word, Kitty. And that’s the way it will be.” Me and George Washington.

  Her word was a crashing kiss against my mouth. Her arms vised my neck as her lips sealed off my breathing. I smelled iodine and quinine but I also smelled perfume. Her breasts pounded against my chest like a Beethoven symphony.

  I had sold her a bill of goods. Man-to-woman style.

  Mimi Tango stirred on the bed. Springs squeaked as her weight shifted. Kitty Arongio laughed, a woman’s laugh, and eased off my lap. I got a view of Mimi Tango’s big round eyes pinning me with contempt and hate. In spite of Kitty Arongio’s warmth, I felt several degrees chillier.

  Kitty Arongio ignored her.

  “What’s your plan, Ed?”

  I took a deep breath and sailed right in.

  “The money isn’t in my office. I had to get rid of Trilly so we could talk. It’s safe where we can both get to it when the right time comes. Your husband gave it to me for safekeeping for a small percentage. Well, it’s all ours now. Untie my hands and we’ll get out of here, leaving all three of them holding the bag.”

  Her eyes were anticipating but she was still a little worried.

  “Can I trust you?”

  I know my women. Some of them, anyway.

  “Kiss me,” I whispered.

  She did. I could feel her lipstick come off with the pressure.

  “You can hang on to the gun, Kitty. If it will make you feel any better.”

  That was the convincer. She went around to the back of my chair and worked the belts loose. One of them was full of notches and loops that held small tools. Arongio’s work belt. I got to my feet, unkinking all the knots and bows that had developed in my cramped arms and legs.

  I had lied like a trooper to save Arongio’s hide from some more tanning. And maybe my own. But I wasn’t out of the woods yet. I’d need everything up to and including a guided tour. Kitty Arongio still had the gun. And Mr. Arongio and Mimi Tango were still as helpless as babies in a snowstorm.

  She juggled the gun in her hand and moved back a little to watch me. I smiled at her reassuringly. The nose of the gun lowered and she smiled back.

  I set my teeth. “Where’s the diary, Kitty? If Lake did a good enough job on it to fool your expert husband, maybe we can find another sucker on our travels and realize more cash on it.”

  That made her smile.

  “Larry was clever. Clever enough to take the thing back. I don’t know where it is now. He might have …”

  It’s funny how fast everything can go wrong on you. It just takes a spin of the wheel and you go broke in a hurry.

  Something heavy pounded on the door, cutting her sentence in half. Three, four times. And a loud voice boomed out:

  “OPEN UP IN THE NAME OF THE LAW! AND DON’T TRY ANYTHING! THE BUILDING IS SURROUNDED!”

  Talk about lousy timing. All my good work of the last half-hour came undone just like that.

  Because Kitty Arongio glared at me and cursed. A woman’s curse is something no man can ever match.

  “You two-timing fink! You tipped them off somehow. You had to. Nobody else knows about this place except you …”

  I edged around the chair. The voice outside boomed again. Something about the boom told me it belonged to a very impatient guy. Footsteps trooped around in the hall outside. It sounded like a task force.

  “Simmer down, Kitty. You got it all wrong. Trilly might have been picked up …”

  “Fink!” she shrilled. She wasn’t buying any more fish from me.

  There was murder in her eyes. The gun in her hand pointed at me with one thing in mind. I couldn’t have gotten out of the way if I’d had greased lightning on my side.

  I started to sweat.

  “Say something to those guys outside, for God’s sake. They don’t get an answer and they’ll go to work on that door with a riot gun or something. There’ll be ricochets …”

  The hammer on the cannon cocked with a click. I was caught flatfooted. I tensed myself for the last desperate lunge. I didn’t give myself a prayer of getting out of the way in nearly enough time.

  The look in Kitty Arongio’s eyes had hypnotized my reflexes. And I was too big and too near to miss …

  Suddenly Mimi Tango screamed.
/>   TWENTY

  A woman’s scream can move mountains, stop clocks, run windows up, and slam doors. If it can’t do all that, it can at least snap a person’s attention from one thing to another in less time than it takes to poke a doorbell.

  Kitty Arongio’s head jerked in bewilderment to the bed where Mimi Tango had broken through the sound barrier by somehow working the gag loose from her mouth. She was hitting high C hysterically. Long, high, and loud. It was all I needed.

  I shot the chair toward Kitty Arongio at a dizzy tangent. It skidded across the floor toward her, flying low. She squealed in mingled fear and surprise and lurched out of the way.

  I took cover faster than the Yanks win pennants, making the other side of the bed in a headlong slide. I needed something between me and a crazy woman with a loaded gun.

  The crew on the hallway side of the door suddenly decided to open up with the riot gun. Wood splintered, the lock flew. The leg of the table disintegrated in a shower of splinters and one end of the thing sat down on the floor like it had suddenly gotten tired of it all. Above the familiar rat-tat-tat of the machine gun, I tried to make myself heard.

  “HOLD IT, YOU CLOWNS! WE’RE SITTING DUCKS IN HERE!”

  We were. Arongio’s chair was just off the line of the door-way. And so was the bed. But that didn’t make me feel any too secure. One of the most discomforting traits of the sub-Thompson is its spraying quality.

  Forty-five-caliber death-dealers thugged into the wall. Myriad cracks and holes sprang into life. A framed oll canvas from somebody’s Blue Period lowered a full five inches from the thundering impact. Then the painting hit the deck altogether.

  The gun shut down as the door fell in with a crash. The panel split apart and Kitty Arongio lost her head.

  With a scream of something, she cut loose. She didn’t know how to handle a gun except that she had the old fashioned idea that all you had to do was keep on pulling the trigger and you were bound to hit something. She pumped away and the old noisemaker in her fingers made a lot of it to add to the general confusion. And Mimi Tango kept right on screaming.