The Long Wait (14 page)

I shot him in the head while I could still see him and he gave one convulsive leap that threw him over backwards into the quarry. You could hear him bouncing off the rocks until there was a faint splash. I didn't even try for the other one. He didn't waste any time about moving. The air was so still, so quiet now that I could hear his feet slipping in the soft loam and the way he dragged his breath in as he battered a path through the brush.

Just to leave a nice clean camp I put my foot under the body of the one called Larry and shoved. He went down there in the wet with his friend. Then I tossed the gun down after him.

It was nice of them to leave me the car. The plates were from out of state and there were some toys on the floor in the back, so it was a sure bet the heap was stolen. I kicked it over, swung around and took the road back to the highway.

I should have felt good. I was dirty as hell but I was still alive. That should make anybody feel good. That is, anybody but me. A gun felt too natural in my hand. I got too much pleasure out of seeing a guy die even if he did deserve to die. I was thinking things that no right guy would ever think of, like getting the powder marks out of my hand before the police could make a paraffin test on me. I knew how to do all that and I didn't know what or who I was more than a few years ago.

A shudder pinched my shoulders together and I could feel the damp of the sweat on the back of my neck. I knew too goddamn many things for my own good, all right, but in a way I was lucky I knew them.

I found a drugstore still open on the edge of town, bought a few things and sat in the car washing my hands. When I was done I wasn't worried about paraffin tests any more. I threw the bottles and the jar of solvent out of the window, started to turn the key and noticed the pad on the seat.

It was just a cheap loose-leaf job with a small pencil stuffed between the rings. Whoever used it tore the pages out as they were used up, and except for the first page it was completely empty. Right at the top of the page one was the notation, “John McBride, registered own name Hathaway House. Check both entrances.”

They had it down pat. If they missed me in town I would have been picked up at the hoted. I grinned a little bit, ripped the page out and tossed the rest of the pad out the window.

That made two attempts to knock me off and I could damn well expect a third. I must have been some boy to be so important dead. Brother! I gunned the motor and drove into town.

The hotel was out now. There was no sense building my own trap. When trouble came I wanted to pick the spot myself. Between times I wanted someplace where I could hole up and think if I had to without worrying about who was waiting outside ready to use me for a target.

It was after two when I left the car in front of police headquarters. Hell, I wasn't trying to be wise about it. But it helps when the other guy knows you're cocky enough to pull a stunt like that. It makes them a little cautious, and in the time it takes to be cautious you can make them wish they hadn't been, if you get what I mean.

A family-type gin mill was going strong on the corner. Everybody had a package on including the bartender and they were all huddled together giving some Irish ballads a working over. Nobody noticed me slip into the phone booth and nobody cared.

I got the
Lyncastle News
office first and the night editor gave me Logan's home number. It took five minutes of steady ringing to wake him up and he wasn't the happiest sounding person I'd ever talked to. He barked, “Who the hell is this and what d'ya want?”

“It's Johnny, kid. Got some news for you if you're interested.” His voice tightened up. “Find her?”

“Nope. Somebody found me. I got taken for a ride.”

“God! What happened?”

“There's a quarry of some kind outside of town. Know where it is?”

“Yeah, yeah. What about it?”

“There's two bodies down there. The third got away from me.”

“Did you...” He hung there expectantly.

“I did one, friend. The other was knocked off by his buddy. The third lad is going to carry the story home and we better get our licks in first.”

“Johnny, this is going to be rough. Lindsey'll love it.”

“Uh-uh. Not if we handle it right. Whoever put them on me can't talk without exposing himself and there's no reason why I should get tied into it. Can you keep it quiet?”

“I sure can try. I'll round up the boys and get out there now.”

“Good. See if you can find out who they are. I wouldn't be a bit surprised if they were hauling in ringers now,” I said dryly.

“They?”

“Yeah. It goes back a long way, friend, but it's just now paying off. Somebody is scared silly. I'll call you in the morning. By the way... they used a stolen car. I left it in front of police headquarters.”

“You're a damn fool, Johnny!”

“Everybody keeps telling me that. Someday I'll believe it. One more thing before I forget. ”Servo's got a red-headed tomato up his place. Who is she?”

“Slow down, Johnny. You haven't been fooling around with her, have you?”

“Not exactly. The pleasure was all hers.”

He said a couple of nasty words under his breath. “You're just looking to get killed, aren't you?”

“That's not the question.”

“If you gotta know, her name is Troy Avalard.”

“The hell with her name. What about her?”

“She's been living with Lenny for a couple of years. She came through with a show one time, made a big play for Lenny and he bought out her contract to keep her around.”

“You know how he does it?”

“I've heard.”

“Doesn't she ever get out?”

He didn't answer right away. I could hear his fingernails rattle against the phone impatiently. “When she's out Lenny's with her,” he said. “Troy's a good hand at steering a sucker who's loaded with dough to a dice table.”

“A nice friendly gesture that helps out Lenny's friends, is that it?”

“Sort of.”

“Who held her contract, Logan?”

I hit him with the question so fast he choked over a curse. When he got his voice back it was soft with amazement. “You should have been a cop. Sure as hell you should have been a cop. You can smell out the damndest things.”

“Yeah?”

“Lenny paid fifty grand for that contract. It was supposed to be a hush-hush deal but it got noised around. That's too much cash to hand out for a chunk of sex so I checked on it. The guy who held the contract sold it for five.”

“That leaves forty-five G's to go, kid.”

“I know. Most of it was deposited to the account of Troy Avalard a few days later.”

“She sure must have a lot to offer,” I said. “Maybe I better look in on her again.”

“Damn it, Johnny, you...”

“Logan,” I laughed, “you ought to see her with an ice cube. It's really something.”

I hung up while he was sputtering into the receiver and got back out on the street again. I kept wondering whether two hundred grand was worth a double try for a kill and decided that it was well worth it if the guy you were trying to kill was important enough.

About two blocks over I picked up a cruising cab and climbed in the back without giving the driver any kind of a chance to get a look at me. I said, “Pontiel Road. Drop me off on the corner.”

“Right, Jack.”

He looked like the kind of cabby who liked to gab, so I turned on the radio that was built into the side and picked up a network news commentator who did all the talking for the both of us.

I got out on the corner of Pontiel Road, paid off the cab and started walking. It was a long walk. The road started off as a residential street, kept on going with more and more spaces between the houses, passed a few acres of empty lots, wound into a wooded grove and came out in a gentle upgrade where a few more houses were in the early construction stage.

The white house on the crest of the hill had the choicest location of all. Evidently it had been built some time ago with an eye to the future, the builder expecting an expansion of the suburb in this direction. You could look down and see the whole city at a glance, yet be far enough away to enjoy some of the advantages of the country.

I walked up the flagstone path, took the steps to the porch that had 4014 in brass numbers tacked over
W. Miller
and looked around for a flowerpot. It was in back of the pillar and the key was there where Wendy said it would be.

There was an amber night light in the foyer that was enough to show me the stairs. I went up, found the bathroom with the light switch beside the door jamb, stripped off my clothes and climbed into the shower. The patch on my head got wet, so I took it off after I dried down and made a new one out of the bandage and tape in the closet, then hung my clothes up in the closet.

There were two doors leading off the bathroom. I opened one and it smelled of perfume and powder like every other woman's bedroom in the civilized world, so I closed it softly and tried the other. That was better.

I tossed the towel in the hamper, walked over to the window and opened it and stood there breathing in the fresh air. The moon was just coming up behind the town, a mellow, peaceful moon all red around the edges.

A benevolent moon, I thought, smiling down on a malevolent
city.

I let it douse me with its yellow light a minute longer, grinned back at it, then felt around for the bed and perched on the edge for a last cigarette. The breeze felt good on my bare skin, cool and comfortable. I stuck the butt in my mouth and snapped the match on the folder.

Her voice was a gentle whisper coming out of the darkness. “You look nice without anything on, Johnny.”

The match froze there in my fingers, dropped and went out on the floor. But not before I saw her on the other side of the bed, her body a naked splash of white before it dipped under the covers.

My benevolent moon smiled again and its light made a play of shadows over the firm sweep of her breasts, wavering gently with her breathing.

“Sorry, kid,” I said hoarsely, “I ... thought ... this room was ... empty.”

She stretched her arms out in a lithe, lazy motion, her mouth a dark oval that barely moved. It usually is, Johnny.”

I would have left, but her hand reached out and touched me, the tips of her fingers inviting little feathers against my skin and there was something animal-like in the way she moved under the covers.

Then she was all animal and so was I, a warm, fragrant animal who made whimpering noises until I stopped her with my mouth and who clawed and clung in a mad frenzy of motion until her breath hung in her throat and it was over.

She was still asleep when I got up in the morning, curled up on her side with her face buried against my shoulder. I tucked the cover under her chin, got dressed and went downstairs to the kitchen. I had the coffee done and breakfast on the stove when I heard her come through the door. Her hair looked like yellow hay blowing in a wind, her mouth a scarlet smile that said, “Good morning.”

She was wrapped up in a red quilted housecoat that didn't hide a thing. “Nice,” I grinned, “very, very nice. Sit down and eat.”

Wendy pulled out a chair with her toe and parked. “I wanted to make breakfast, Johnny.”

“You were domestic enough last night, girl. Besides, I'm in a hurry.”

Her eyes were curious. “Going somewhere?”

“Yeah. I'm going looking for the somebody who wants me dead.”

Her eyebrows made two little arcs.

“I got taken for a little ride last night. That makes twice they tried.”

“Who...”

“I'd like to know that myself. Ever hear of a girl named Vera West?”

“Why, certainly! Wasn't she...”

“The one I was in love with. She worked in the bank,” I finished.

Wendy frowned and sipped her coffee. “She was Lenny Servo's girl too.”

“Uh-huh. And now she's missing. I want to find that babe.” I tapped a cigarette on the table and lit it. “How easy is it to disappear right here in town?”

“Not very easy, but it has been done. Do you think she's here?”

“Maybe. I heard something about where the girlies wind up in Lyncastle. You know anything about it?”

“There are ... houses. It is possible, though it doesn't seem logical. Why would she want to disappear?”

“That goddamn tart framed me. She...” I stopped in the middle of the sentence. “How good are you at keeping your mouth closed?”

The coffee cup made a faint
clink
against the saucer. She read the expression on my face and stiffened. “That isn't very nice.”

“I don't do nice things, Wendy. But I want you to know. I may shoot off my mouth because you and Pop did me a favor, but if you sound off to anybody you'll never be able to do it again. You understand that, don't you?”

Her face was white with anger. “You don't have to tell me anything,” she snapped.

“No, I don't have to, but I can think better when I talk. Listen all you want to, but keep it to yourself. Like I said about Vera West, she told Gardiner I was using a set of books I had no business seeing. She had it all arranged so in case she was caught she'd be able to shove everything on me. Well, that's just what happened.
She
was the one pulling the fancy stuff. She was dummying the books and I took the rap for it!”

“You ... went to the bank?”

“Yeah, and saw Gardiner. He's going to look for her too.”

“You're sure about this?” she asked seriously.