The Mike Hammer Collection, Volume 2 (37 page)

“Of course. My boss would give ten years off his life to get either one of them in court. Please, Mike, just go a little easy on me. I don’t mind holding your gun to frighten someone like that little man back here, but those two ...”

I slipped my arm around her shoulders and squeezed. “Kitten, when a couple of punks like that give me the cold shivers I’ll hang up. They’re big because they have money and the power and guns that money can buy, but when you take their clothes off and there’s no pockets to hold the money or the guns they’re just two worms looking for holes to hide in.”

“Have it your way, but I need a drink. A big one and right now. My stomach is all squirmy.”

She must have been talking about the inside. I felt her stomach and it was nice and flat. She poked me with her elbow for the liberty and made me take her in a bar.

Only this one was nearly empty and the only dangerous character was a drunk arguing with the bartender about who was going to win the series. When we had our drink I asked her if she wanted another and she shook her head. “One’s enough on top of what happened tonight. I think I’d like to go home, Mike.”

She lived in the upper Sixties on the top floor of the only new building in the block. About a half-dozen brownstones had been razed to clear an area for the new structure and it stood out like a dame in a French bathing suit at an old maids’ convention. It was still a pretty good neighborhood, but most of the new convertibles and sleek black sedans were lumped together in front of her place.

I got in line behind the cars at the curb and opened the door for her. “Aren’t you coming up for a midnight snack, Mike?”

“I thought I was supposed to ask that,” I laughed.

“Times have changed. Especially when you get my age.”

So I went up.

There was an automatic elevator, marble-lined corridors under the thick maroon rugs, expensive knickknacks and antique furniture all for free before you even hit the apartment itself. The layout wasn’t much different inside, either. For apartment-hungry New York, this was luxury. There were six rooms with the best of everything in each as far as I could see. The living room was one of these ultra modern places with angular furniture that looked like hell until you sat in it. All along the mantel of the imitation fireplace was a collection of genuine Paul Revere pieces that ran into big dough, while the biggest of the pieces, each with its own copper label of historical data, was used beside the front windows as flowerpots.

I kind of squinted at Ellen as I glanced around. “How much do they pay you to do secretarial work?”

Her laugh made a tinkling sound in the room. “Not this much, I’ll tell you. Three of us share this apartment, so it’s not too hard to manage. The copper work you seem to admire belongs to Patty. She was working for Captain Chambers with me tonight.”

“Oh, short and fat.”

“She has certain virtues that attract men.”

“Money?”

Ellen nodded.

“Then why does she work?”

“So she can meet men, naturally.”

“Cripes, are all the babes after all the men?”

“It seems so. Now, if you’ll just stay put I’ll whip up a couple of sandwiches. Want something to drink?”

“Beer if you have it.”

She said she had it and went back to the kitchen. She fooled around out there for about five minutes and finally managed to get an inch of ham to stay between the bread. A lanky towheaded job in one of these shortie nightgowns must have heard the raid on the icebox, because she came out of the bedroom as Ellen came in and snatched the extra sandwich off the plate. Just as she was going to pop it in her mouth she saw me and said, “Hi.”

I said “Hi” back.

She said, “Ummm,” but that was before she bit into the sandwich.

Moving her arms jerked the shortie up too far. Ellen blocked the view by handing me my beer and called back over her shoulder, “Either go put some more clothes on or get back in bed.”

The towhead took another bite and mumbled, “With you around I need a handicap.” She took another bite and shuffled back to the bedroom.

“See what I have to put up with?”

“I wish I had to put up with it.”

“You would.”

So we sat and finished the snack and dawdled over a beer until I said it was time to scram and she looked painfully unhappy with an expression that said I could stay if I wanted to badly enough. I told her about the kid and the arrangements I had made with the nurse, tacking on that I should have tucked him into bed long ago.

The same look she had in the office stole into her face. “Tuck me into bed too, Mike,” she said. With the lithe grace of an animal she slid out of the chair past me and in the brief second that our eyes met I felt the heat of the passion that burned behind those deep blue irises.

Not much more than a minute could have passed. Her voice was a husky whisper calling, “Mike ...” and I went to her.

There was no light except that which seeped in from the other room, a faint glow that made a bulky shadow of the bed with lesser shadows outlining the furniture against the deeper blackness of the room itself. I could hear the rhythmic sigh of her breathing, too heavy to be normal, and my hands shook when I stuck a cigarette in my mouth.

She said, “Mike ...” again and struck the match.

Her hair was a smooth mass of bronze on the pillow, her mouth full and rich, showing the shiny white edges of her teeth. There was only the sheet over her that rose and dipped between the inviting hollows of her breasts. Ellen was beautiful as only a mature woman can be beautiful. She was lustful as only a mature woman can be lustful.

“Tuck me in, Mike.”

The match burned closer to my fingers. I reached down and got the corner of the sheet in my fingers and flipped it all the way back. She lay there beautiful and naked and waiting.

“I love brunettes,” I said.

The tone of my voice told her no, not tonight, but her smile didn’t fade. She just grinned impishly because she knew I’d never be able to look at her again and say no. “You’re a heel, Mike.”

The match went out. “You told me that once tonight.”

“You’re a bigger heel than I thought.” Then she laughed. When I backed out of the room she was still chuckling, but that thing was running up my back again.

I was thinking of her all the way back to my apartment and thinking of her when I put my car away. I was thinking too damn much to be careful. When I stabbed my key in the lock and turned it there was a momentary catch in the tumblers before it went all the way around and I swore out loud as I rammed the door with my shoulder and hit the floor. Something swished through the air over my head and I caught an arm and pulled a squirming, fighting bundle of muscle down on top of me.

If I could have reached my rod I would have blown his guts out. His breath was in my face and I brought my knee up, but he jerked out of the way bringing his hand down again and my shoulder went numb after a split second of blinding pain. He tried again with one hand going for my throat, but I got one foot loose and kicked out and up and felt my toe smash into his groin. The cramp of the pain doubled him over on top of me, his breath sucking in like a leaky tire.

Then I got cocky. I thought I had him. I went to get up and he moved. Just once. That thing in his hand smashed against the side of my head and I started to crumple up piece by piece until there wasn’t anything left except the sense to see and hear enough to know that he had crawled out of the room and was falling down the stairs outside. Then I thought about the lock on my door and how I had a guy fix it so I could tell if it had been jimmied open so I wouldn’t step into any blind alleys without a gun in my hand, but because of a dame who lay naked and smiling on a bed I wouldn’t share I had forgotten all about it.

And that was all.

CHAPTER
4

I thought I was in a boat that was sinking and I tried to get over the side before it turned over on me. I clawed for the railing that wouldn’t stand still while the screaming of the bells and mechanical pounding of laboring engines blasted the air with frantic insistence.

Somehow I got my eyes open and saw that I wasn’t in a boat, but on the floor of my own apartment trying to grab the edge of the table. My head felt like a huge swollen thing that throbbed with a terrible fury, sending the pain shooting down to the balls of my feet. I choked on my tongue and muttered thickly, “God ... my head ... my head!”

The phone didn’t let up and whoever was pounding on the door wouldn’t go away because they could hear me inside.

I staggered to the door first and cursed. It was still unlocked; nobody had to pound like that. The damn thing was almost too heavy for me to open with one hand.

I guess I must have looked pretty bad. The elderly nurse took one look at me and her arms tightened protectively around the kid. He didn’t scare so easily though, or maybe he was used to seeing a bloated, unshaven face. He laughed.

“Come on in,” I said.

The old lady didn’t like the idea, but she came in. Mad, too. “Mr. Hammer ...” she started.

“Look, get off my back. I wasn’t drunk or disorderly. I damn near got my skull smashed in....” I looked at the light streaming in the windows, “last night. Right here. I’m sorry you were inconvenienced, but I’ll pay for it. Goddamn that phone ... hello, hello!”

“Mike?”

I recognized Pat’s voice. “Yeah, it’s me. What’s left of me.”

“What happened?” He sounded sharp and impatient.

“Nothing. I just got jumped in my own joint and nearly brained, that’s all. The bastard got away.”

“Look, you get down here as fast as you can, understand? On the double.”

“Now what’s up?”

“Trouble, and it’s all yours, friend. Damn it, Mike, how many times do I have to remind you to keep your nose out of police business!”

“Wait a minute ...”

“Wait my foot. Get down here before the D.A. sends somebody after you. There’s another murder and it’s got your name on it.”

I hung up and told my head to go right ahead and explode if it wanted to.

Then the old lady let out a short scream and nearly broke her neck running for the kid. He was on his hands and knees reaching for my gun that lay under the table on the floor. She kicked it away and snapped him back on her lap.

Lord, what a day this was going to be!

Somebody else was at the door this time and all they had to do was rap just once more before I got it opened and they’d get a rap right in the teeth. The guy in the uniform said, “You Michael Hammer?”

Nodding my head hurt, so I grunted that I was.

He handed me a box about two feet long and held out a pad. “Package from the Uptown Kiddie Shop. Sign here, please.”

I scrawled my name, handed him a quarter and took the package inside. There was a stack of new baby clothes under the wrappings with a note on top addressed to me. It said,

Dear Mike:

Men
are never
much
good at these
things,
so
I
picked
up
some
clothes for the little boy. Let me know if they fit all right.

Marsha

The nurse was still eyeing me suspiciously. I handed her the boy and edged back to a nice soft chair. “Before you say anything, let me explain one thing. The kid’s old man was bumped. Murdered. He’s an orphan and I’m trying to find out who made him that way. Somebody doesn’t like the idea and they got funny ways of telling me so, but that isn’t stopping me any. Maybe this’ll happen again and maybe it won‘t, but you’d be doing me and the kid a big favor if you’ll put up with it until this mess is cleaned up. Will you?”

Her face was expressionless a moment, then broke into a smile. “I ... think I understand.”

“Good. Arrangements are being made now so the kid’ll be taken care of permanently. It won’t be long.” I patted the back of my head and winced.

“You’d better let me take a look at your scalp,” she said.

She let me hold the kid while she probed around the lump awhile. If she had found a hole to stick her finger in, I wouldn’t have been at all surprised. Finally she stood back satisfied and picked the kid up. “There doesn’t seem to be anything wrong, but if I were you I’d see a doctor anyway.”

I told her I would.

“You know, Mr. Hammer, in my time I’ve seen a great deal of suffering. It isn’t new to me, not by a long sight. All I ask is that you don’t bring any of it home to the child.”

“Nothing will bother the kid. I’ll see to that. He’ll be all right with you then?”

“I’ll take perfect care of him.” She paused and her face creased in a frown. “This town is full of rabid dogs and there’s not a dogcatcher in sight.”

“I kill mad dogs,” I said.

“Yes, I’ve heard that you do. Good morning, Mr. Hammer.” I handed her the box of clothes, picked the rod up from the floor and ushered her out.

My head was still booming away and I tried to fix it up with a hot shower. That helped, but a mess of bacon and eggs helped even more. It woke me up enough to remember Pat said my name was on a murder and I didn’t have the sense to ask who he was talking about.

I gave it a try on the phone anyway, but they couldn’t locate Pat in the building anywhere. I held the receiver down for a second, long enough to check Marsha’s number in the book, then punched out her call. The nurse with the mustache answered and told me that Miss Lee had just left for a morning rehearsal of the Little Theater Group and wasn’t expected back until later that afternoon.

Nuts. So now I had to go down to police headquarters and face an inquisition. My legs had more life in them by the time I reached the street, and when I had pulled up in front of the building downtown I was back to normal in a sense. At least I felt like having a beer and a butt without choking over the thought.

They were real happy to see me, they were. They looked like they hoped I wouldn’t come so they could go drag me down by the neck, but now that I was there everything was malicious, tight smiles and short, sharp sentences that steered me into a little room where I was supposed to sit and sweat so I’d blab my head off when they asked me questions.