Until You Are Dead (21 page)

"Rumors?" Sam leaned over the bar. "Kiss? What kiss? Did she kiss Baker last night?"

"Take it easy," Billy said. "I told you Baker came in late." The phone rang, as it always did during the fifteen minutes before the Hulton Plant let out, with wives leaving messages and asking for errant husbands. When Billy returned, Rita was back at the bar.

"Let's get out of here," she said. There were tear streaks in her makeup.

"Finish your drinks and go home happy, folks." Billy shot a glance at the door and set the glasses on the bar.

Rita drank hers slowly, but Sam tossed his drink down and stared straight ahead. Quietly, Billy put another full glass in front of him.

"I hear you
were
in here with Baker last night," Sam said in a low voice. "Somebody even saw you kissing him."

"You're
crazy!
" Rita's thickened voice was outraged.

Billy moved quickly toward them.

"I didn't say that."

"I knew you were covering up!" Sam glared pure hate at him. "We'll see what Baker says, because I'm going to drive over to his place right now and bash his brains out!"

"
But I didn't even see Baker last night!
" Rita took a pull on her drink, trying to calm herself.

Sam swung sharply around with his forearm, hitting Rita's chin and the highball glass at the same time. There was a clink as the glass hit her teeth and she fell backward off the stool.

Billy reached under the bar and his hand came up with a glinting chrome automatic that seemed to catch every ray of light in the place. It was a gentleman's gun, and standing there in his white shirt and red vest Billy looked like a gentleman holding it.

"Now, don't move, folks." He aimed the gun directly at Sam's stomach. "You know we don't go for that kind of trouble in here." He looked down and saw blood seeping between Rita's fingers as she held her hand over her mouth. Billy wet a clean towel and tossed it to her, and she held it to her face and scooted backward to sit sobbing in the farthest booth.

Billy leaned close to Sam. "Listen," he said, his voice a sincere whisper, "I don't want to bring trouble on Baker, or on you for that matter, so I can't stand by and let you go over there and kill him and throw your own life away. It wasn't him she was in here with. He came in later."

"Wasn't him?" Sam asked in bewildered fury. "Who was it then?"

"I don't know," Billy said, still in a whisper so Rita couldn't hear. "He had a badge on, so he worked at the plant, but I don't know who he is and that's the truth."

"
Oh, no!
"

"Take it easy, Sam. She only kissed him in that booth there. And I'm not even sure I saw that. The booth was dark."

Sam tossed down the drink that was on the bar and moaned. He was staring at the automatic and Billy could see he wanted desperately to move.

A warm silence filled the bar, and then the phone rang shrilly, turning the silence to icicles.

"Now take it easy," Billy said, backing slowly down the bar toward the phone hung on the wall. "A kiss isn't anything." As the phone rang again he could almost see the shrill sound grate through Sam's tense body. Billy placed the automatic on the bar and took the last five steps to the phone. He let it ring once more before answering it.

"Naw," Billy said into the receiver, standing with his back to Sam and Rita, "he's not here." He stood for a long moment instead of hanging up, as if someone were still on the other end of the line.

The shot was a sudden, angry bark.

Billy put the receiver on the hook and turned. Sam was standing slumped with a supporting hand on a barstool. Rita was crumpled on the floor beneath the table of the booth she'd been sitting in, her eyes open, her blond hair bright with blood.

His head still bowed, Sam began to shake.

Within minutes the police were there, led by a young plainclothes detective named Parks.

"You say they were arguing and he just up and shot her?" Parks was asking as his men led Sam outside.

"He accused her of running around," Billy said. "They were arguing, he hit her, and I was going to throw them out when the phone rang. I set the gun down for a moment when I went to answer the phone, and he grabbed it and shot."

"Uh-hm," Parks said efficiently, flashing a look toward where Rita's body had lain before they'd photographed it and taken it away. "Pretty simple, I guess. Daniels confessed as soon as we got here. In fact, we couldn't shut him up. Pretty broken."

"Who wouldn't be?" Billy said.

"Save some sympathy for the girl." Parks looked around. "Seems like a nice place. I don't know why there's so much trouble in here."

Billy shrugged. "In a dive, a class joint, or a place like this, people are mostly the same."

Parks grinned. "You're probably right," he said, and started toward the door. Before pushing it open, he paused and turned. "If you see anything like this developing again, give us a call, huh?"

"Sure," Billy said, polishing a glass and holding it up to the fading afternoon light. "You know we don't like trouble in here."

L
ou Cole sat in Dave Dunstan's office, behind Dunstan's desk, in Dunstan's chair. The darkened office was bathed in a pleasant dim glow from the lighted corridor on the other side of the frosted glass with Dunstan's name lettered on it. There was no sound in the building, no movement. Dunstan's partner, Roy Vickers, had said the Dunstan-Vickers Plastic Company building would be empty.

Cole had met Dave Dunstan by bad luck, and Roy Vickers by chance. He'd gotten the word through the regular, secretive channels: "There's a job for Lou Cole." Cole had gone to the innocent looking Star Dry Cleaners and talked to the old man behind the counter.

"Who wants me?" he'd asked Krueger, the old man, and the old man had smiled.

"A man named Vickers," Krueger had said. "You know who he is?"

"Not the Vickers of Dunstan-Vickers Plastic?"

"The same." A hissing sound came from the back of the cleaners. Krueger ran a hand over his sweating bald head. "I thought you might be interested."

"Vickers doesn't know who I am, does he?" Cole asked. "Of course not. He only knows that you kill people." Cole's dark eyebrows lowered in a slight frown. He lit a cigarette and decided to go carefully. "Why did you think I'd be interested?"

"Because he wants you to hit Dave Dunstan."

"Why?"

Krueger grinned. "You'd have to ask Vickers that."

Cole drew on his cigarette. It was bad business, stupid business to hit somebody you were connected with, but it had been four years since he'd even seen Dunstan. He turned and looked out the cleaner's front window at the fine rain that was darkening the Street. He did want to kill Dunstan. He dropped his cigarette on the dirty tile floor and stepped on it, knowing that he'd always planned to kill Dunstan anyway, when enough time had passed, when the time was right.
Cole looked at the old man. "Where did Vickers tell me to contact him?"

Krueger handed Cole a small piece of paper with a date, phone number and time written on it.

"I thought you'd want to go through with it, "Krueger said.

Cole folded the piece of paper and put it in his wallet. "Stop smiling," he said to Krueger, and Krueger did.

C
ole met Vickers by the outside cages at the zoo. Vickers was dressed as described, leaning on a rail and exchanging stares with a spotted hyena when Cole approached him.

"You Roy Vickers?" Cole asked.

"If you're Krueger's man." Vickers straightened and turned to face him. He was a stocky, middle-aged man with a heavily lined face.

"Krueger's my man," Cole said. He extended his hand and they shook. "It's kind of hot here. Why don't we go over to the shade to talk?"

Vickers smiled at him in a way he didn't like. "Don't you care for hyenas?"

Cole shrugged. "They have a sense of humor."

Vickers followed him to the shade of a big tree by the cage of
Canis lupis
,
the Gray Wolf.

Cole slouched against the protective metal railing and folded his arms. "Who told you I was the man for the job?"

"A friend's friend."

Cole like that answer. It was comforting to have a client who was tight-lipped, even though the client had as much to lose as Cole.

"This David Dunstan," Cole said, "who is he and why do you want him dead?"

"He's my business partner," Vickers said, "and I want him dead so I can have the business."

"What business?"

"Dunstan-Vickers Plastic Company. We make -"

"I don't care what you make," Cole interrupted. "Why do you want the business for yourself?"

Vickers looked at him strangely. "The money, of course."

"That's all?"

Cole could hear the wolf pacing behind him while he watched Vickers's face redden slightly.

"My wife," Vickers said, sighing. "I think Dunstan's having an affair with my wife."

Cole nodded. "Two reasonable motives."

"Will you take the job?" Vickers asked.

"We haven't talked price."

Vickers pulled a sealed white envelope from his pocket.

"How's five thousand dollars?" he said, holding the envelope out for Cole. "Half now, half later."

Cole took the envelope and put it in his own pocket.

"Where can I get Dunstan alone and when?"

"I'll let you know as soon as I can," Vickers said.

"There's a phone number in the envelope where you can reach me, Mr..."

"You'll recognize my voice," Cole said.

Canis lupis
scraped the wire of his cage with a gray paw as they walked away.

Cole went from the zoo directly to the Last Stop Lounge where he had some drinks, a bit too much to drink. Vickers didn't know him from Adam, he was sure. If you wanted a swift, professional job in this town and were willing to pay for it, the right inquiries would eventually lead you to Lou Cole, or him to you. So Vickers knew Dunstan was playing with his wife, but he didn't know that five years ago Dunstan had stolen Lou Cole's wife, stolen her and left her dead from an overdose of sleeping pills in a Texas motel.

Cole ordered another drink. For the first time since he'd entered "the profession" he felt a deep desire to kill the man his client had paid to have destroyed. He felt good about this, and yet he felt uneasy. It was a serious breach of ethics to hit anyone but a complete stranger. There was no doubt that eventually the police would get to Cole in their investigation, even though his motive was five years old. That's why half the money he'd receive from Dunstan's death would go to establish an alibi. Cole had paid for these alibis before, and they were tight and reliable.

Finishing his drink, Cole leaned forward over the bar with his eyes closed and listened to the music blaring from the jukebox. He thought about what it would be like to kill Dave Dunstan, and for the first time in years he let himself really think about his dead wife Laurie. He wanted another drink, but he realized he'd had enough so he left.

S
killfully striking a match with his rubber-gloved fingers, Cole lit a cigarette and leaned back in Dunstan's desk chair. While the flame was still flickering he used it to check the time on his wristwatch, then he slipped the burnt out match into a breast pocket. From another pocket he drew a small blue steel automatic with a silencer, checked it and laid it before him on the desk. In the light from the hallway, Dunstan would make a perfect silhouette target when he opened the door to enter the darkened office.

Vickers had come up with the means for a very safe murder plan. He'd arranged for the building to be empty on Friday evening and he'd given Cole a key to a side door. He then drew him a detailed floor plan of the five story building, showing the stairway and elevator, the working area, all of the exits, and Dunstan's office on the fourth floor. At exactly ten o'clock Vickers would call Dunstan and ask to meet him at the office on some urgent pretense. It was ten fifteen now. Instead of Vickers, Dunstan would find Lou Cole.

Vickers was providing himself with an alibi for that evening. He was making the rounds of some night spots with friends. At precisely ten thirty he would slip away and phone Dunstan's office, wait two rings and then hang up. He would call again immediately, and Cole would answer the phone and let him know what had happened. Vickers had to cover himself in case Dunstan failed to show up.

It was ten twenty when the phone on Dunstan's desk rang twice. Ten minutes early. A vague apprehension stirred in the back of Cole's mind. When the phone rang again he picked it up and said nothing.

"Lou Cole?"