The Way Some People Die (11 page)

“I’m sorry. I tried to stop it, but Joe was too fast. He sneaked out the back of the house and around to the porch in his stocking feet. You’re lucky he didn’t shoot you.” She shuffled towards me on her knees, her hips rotating with a clumsy kind of grace. “Let me look at it.”

I bent my head. Her fingers moved cool and gentle on the swelling. “It doesn’t look too bad. I don’t think there’s any concussion, not much anyway.” Her fingers slid down the nape of my neck.

I looked up into the narrow face poised over me. The full red lips were parted and the black eyes dreamed downward heavily. Her hair was uncombed. She had sleepless hollows under her eyes, a dark bruise on her temple. She still was the fieriest thing I’d seen up close for years.

“Thanks, nurse.”

“Don’t mention it.” The dark hawk face came down and kissed my mouth. For an instant her breast came hard against my shoulder, then she withdrew to the other end of the bed.

It made the blood run round in my veins too fast. But she was calm and cool, as if it were a thing she did for all her patients.

“What did Joe do after that?” I said.

“You haven’t told me how you got here.—Have you a comb?”

I tossed her my pocket comb. Her hair crackled and ran smooth like black water through her hands. I looked around the room for Dowser’s one-way window. There was a double band of black glass along the edges of the panel heater near the door.

“You wouldn’t be one of Dowser’s lead soldiers, would
you?” She was still combing her hair, her bosom rising and falling with the movement of her arms.

“That bum? I wouldn’t be here if I was. I told you your mother hired me.”

“Ah yes, you’re Mother’s helper. Did you see her?”

“No more than an hour ago. Stop combing your hair, it disturbs me.”

A white grin lit her face. “Poor mans, did I excite hims?”

“That was the idea, wasn’t it?”

“Was it?” The tossed comb would have hit me in the face if I hadn’t palmed it. “What did Mother say?”

“She said she’d give whatever she has if I could bring you back.”

“Really?” For the first time she sounded and looked dead serious. “Did she mean it?”

“She meant it all right. I said I’d do what I can.”

“So you came up here and got yourself locked up. It took you less than an hour. You move fast, Archer.”

I assumed an angry tone which turned out to be half real: “If I had my gun, it wouldn’t have happened. Your husband took my gun last night.”

“He took mine, too,” she said.

“Where did he go?”

“You’ll never catch him now.”

“You know where he is, then?”

“I can guess. He didn’t tell me anything himself. He never did.”

“Don’t kid me.”

“I wouldn’t if I could,” she said. “It’s true. When I went to Las Vegas with him—we were married at Gretna Green—I thought he was a wrestling promoter. I knew he worked as a pinball machine collector before that, but that seemed fairly innocent. He didn’t tell me different.”

“How did you meet him?”

“In line of duty, I suppose you’d call it. I had a patient by the name of Speed who used to be Joe’s boss. Joe came to see this Speed in the hospital. Joe is a good-looking man, and I guess I fell.” She was leaning against the padded headboard with her knees turned sideways under her. On the other side of the red chenille desert that lay between us, her thighs rose under the blue skirt like the slopes of blue mountain foothills.

“This Speed,” I said. “What was the matter with him?”

“You probably know, or you wouldn’t ask.” The reclining slopes of her body shifted, and my nerves recorded the seismic vibrations. “Mr. Speed had a bullet wound in the stomach.”

“But that didn’t give you any ideas about Mr. Speed’s employee?”

“I hate to admit I must have been naïve. Mr. Speed said it was an accident. He shot himself cleaning a gun, at least that was his story.”

“So you married Joe, who probably shot Speed himself.” I made the suggestion at random, fishing for facts.

Her eyes widened, black and depthless beneath their amber surfaces. “Oh. Joe and Herman Speed were always good friends. When Joe took over, Mr. Speed gave him pointers about the business—”

“What business?”

“The pinball machines and the wrestling contracts and various other things.”

“All Dowser’s things?”

“I guess so. I didn’t know Joe’s business. He kept me up here in L.A., you see, and Joe and I weren’t very good friends after the first week. Joe had a pleasant trick of slapping people. That’s why I bought my gun. It cooled him off but I was still afraid of him, and he knew it. It didn’t make for marital confidences.”

“But you know what Dowser wants him for?”

“I have a rough idea. He absconded with something valuable of Dowser’s. But Dowser won’t catch him either.” She looked at the watch on her slim brown wrist. “He’s probably in Mexico by now. Over the hills and far away.”

“You think he went to Mexico?”

“That’s what it looks like to me. I’ll never see him again,” she added bitterly.

“Is that going to ruin your life?”

She sat up straight, her face set in angry planes. “Look what he did. Married me under false pretences, took me for a ride, and now he’s stood me up. Left me to take a beating from Dowser and his dirty rotten crew. The dirty rotten coward.”

“Tell me where he went last night?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“I want to have the pleasure of hitting him over the head with a blackjack. If I bring him in, that will clear you with Dowser, won’t it?”

“It will if you’re man enough to do it. You weren’t last night.”

There was no answer to that. “Tell me about last night. I’d like to get it straight. I met your boy friend Dalling in a bar—I think he was expecting me—and he drove me out to Oasis—”

“Dalling is not my boy friend.”

“All right, he likes you, though.” I was careful about the tense. “He was worried about you.”

“Keith is a terrible worrier. What next?”

“He parked down the road and stayed in his car. Joe slipped out of the house while I was talking to you at the door, and sapped me. Now it’s your turn.”

“To sap you?”

“To say what happened after that. Did he see Dalling’s car?”

“Yes. He went after it, but Keith got away. Joe came back in a rage and told me to pack, we were leaving. We were off in fifteen minutes. You were still unconscious, and I think that saved your life. He made me drive him into Los Angeles though I didn’t want to do it. I suspected he was after Keith for giving away his hideout. I could tell he blamed me for it, because Keith was my friend.
Not
my boy friend.

“He was so blind mad he went back to the Casa Loma, that’s where we had our apartment. I told him Dowser’s men would be watching it, but he shut me up. Keith’s car was in the parking lot. Joe told me to stay down there and he went up the back way himself.”

“What time was this?”

“Around three, I think.”

“You got there in a hurry.”

“Yes, I was hitting ninety and ninety-five. I kind of hoped we’d have a blowout and put an end to the business, but no such luck.” She stroked the side of her face with one hand, her eyes unfocused. “Anyway, Joe came down in a couple of minutes and said Keith wasn’t at home. He made me drive him to Pacific Point and let him out near the yacht basin. That was the last I saw of him. He didn’t even say good-bye to me.” She smiled narrowly. “It might have been smart of him to say good-bye.”

“Why don’t you tell Dowser about all this? He’ll turn you loose.”

“I’ll tell you why: Dowser let his gorilla put his paws on me. I wouldn’t tell him which direction was up.”

I sat and looked at her, waiting for the key to turn in the lock. The more I looked at her proud body and head,
the more I liked her, and the more I liked her, the more I felt like a heel.

I had to remind myself that a man was dead, that all was for the best in the best of all possible worlds, and that anything was fair in love and war and murder. I leaned sideways on one elbow, and sleep came over my head like a gunny sack. Just before I dozed off, I heard a car engine start with a roar somewhere outside the house.

CHAPTER
16
:     
When I awoke the strip of sunlight
had moved to the foot of the bed. It drew a broad bright band diagonally across my body, like the sash of yellow satin that went with a South American decoration. I sat up, feeling my legs constricted, and saw that Galley had pulled the spread across me.

She stirred sleepily at her end of the bed. “You’ve been dead to the world for two hours. It isn’t very flattering. Besides, you snore.”

“Sorry. I missed my sleep last night.”

“I didn’t mind, really. You sounded like my father. My father was quite a guy. He died when I was eight.”

“And you remember what his snoring sounded like?”

“I have an excellent memory.” She stretched and yawned. “Do you suppose they’ll ever let us out of here?”

“Your guess is as good as mine.” I threw aside the spread and stood up. “Nice of you to tuck me in.”

“Professional training. Which reminds me, now that Joe is gone, I suppose I’ll have to get myself a job. He didn’t leave me anything but my clothes.”

I remembered the condition of the clothes in the Casa
Loma apartment, and kept quiet on the subject. “You’re giving him up pretty easily, aren’t you?”

“He won’t be back,” she said flatly. “If he does come back, he won’t survive. And even if he did, I wouldn’t take him back. Not after what he said to me last night.”

I looked my question.

“We won’t go into it,” she said.

She flung herself off the bed and walked to the other end of the room, soft-footed in her stockings. Her narrow high-heeled shoes stood together neatly on the floor. She leaned toward the dressing-table mirror, lifting her hair to examine the bruise on her temple.

“God damn it, I can’t stand waiting. I think I’ll smash something.” She swung around fiercely.

“Go ahead.”

There was a perfume atomizer on the table. She picked it up and hurled it at the door. The perfume splattered, and bits of glass rained down.

“You’ve made the place smell like a hothouse.”

“I feel better, anyway. Why don’t
you
break something?”

“It takes a skull to satisfy me. Is Joe long-headed or round-headed? Better put on your shoes or you’ll cut your feet.”

“Round-headed, I guess.” Standing first on one leg and then on the other, she slipped the narrow shoes on. Her legs were beautiful.

“I like the round-headed ones especially. They’re like cracking walnuts, one of the happiest memories of my childhood.”

She stood and faced me with her hands on her hips. “You talk a good fight, Archer. Joe can be rough, you know that.”

“Tell me more.”

But there were hustling footsteps in the corridor. The key turned in the lock. It was Dowser himself, in beige slacks and a chocolate jacket.

He jerked his thumb at me. “Out. I want to talk to you.”

“What about me?” the girl said.

“Calm down. You can go home as far as I’m concerned. Only don’t try to skip out, I want you around.” He turned to Blaney behind him. “Take her home.”

Blaney looked disappointed. She called out “Good luck, Archer” as he marched her away.

I followed Dowser into the big room with the bar. The curly-headed Irishman was shooting practice shots on the snooker table. He straightened up as the boss came in, presenting arms with his cue.

“I got a job for you, Sullivan,” Dowser said. “You’re going to Ensenada and see Torres. I talked to him on the telephone, so he knows you’re coming. You stick with Torres until Joe shows up.”

“Is Joe in Ensenada?”

“There’s a chance he’ll turn up there. The
Aztec Queen
is gone, and it looks as if he took it. You can have the Lincoln, and make it fast, huh?”

Sullivan started out and paused, fingering his black bowtie: “What do I do with Joe?”

“Give him my best regards. You take orders from Torres.”

Dowser turned to me, the big executive with more responsibility on his shoulders than one man should rightly have to bear. But always a genial host: “Want a drink?”

“Not on an empty stomach.”

“Something to eat?”

“Most jails provide board for the prisoners.”

He gave me a hurt look, and beat on the floor with the butt of the abandoned cue. “You’re not my prisoner, baby,
you’re my guest. You can leave whenever you want.”

“How about now?”

“Don’t be in such a hurry.” He hammered the floor still harder, and raised his voice: “Where the hell is everybody around here? I pay them double wages so they leave me stranded in the middle of the day. Hey! Fenton!”

“You should have a bell to ring.”

An old man answered the summons at a limping run. “I was lying down, Mr. Dowser. You want something?” His eyes were bleared with sleep.

“Get Archer here something to eat. A couple of ham sandwiches, and some buttermilk for me. Hurry.”

The old man ran out of the room, his shirtsleeved elbows flapping, the long white hair on his head ruffled by his own wind.

“He’s the butler,” Dowser said with satisfaction. “He’s English, he used to work for a producer in Bel-Air. I should of made him talk for you, you ought to hear him talk. I’ll make him talk when he comes back, huh? Ten-dollar words!”

“I’m afraid I have to leave,” I said.

“Stick around, baby. I might have plenty of use for a man like you. That was the straight dope you got from the girl. I went to the Point and checked it personally. The bastard lammed in his brother’s boat all right.”

“Did you have to keep me locked up until you checked?”

“Come on, boy, I was doing you a favor. Don’t tell me you didn’t make out?” He leaned over the green table and sank a long shot in one of the far pockets. “How about a game of snooker, huh? A dollar a point, and I’ll spot you twenty. You’ll make money off me.”

I was getting restless. The friendlier Dowser grew, the less I liked him. On the other hand, I didn’t want to offend him. An idea for taking care of Dowser was forming at the
back of my head, where it hurt, and I wanted to be able to come back to his house. I said that he was probably a shark and that I hadn’t played the game for years. But I took a cue from the rack at the end of the bar.