You Never Know With Women (8 page)

I didn’t make a move to tell him I was with him in spirit as well as in flesh. I had a feeling if he knew I’d come to the surface he’d start working on me. My neck felt as if the Empire State Building had fallen on it, and my nose dripped blood. I felt as lively and as fit as a ten-day-old corpse.

I heard the door open and I played dead, shutting my eyes and sitting as still as a dummy in a shop window. I smelt her perfume as she paused to look at me. I heard her go over to Parker.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said sharply. “What do you want? You should be in bed.”

“Has he said anything?” she demanded.

“Not yet, but he will.”

He sounded too confident — much, much too confident.

“Is he conscious?” she asked.

“I don’t know and I don’t care. Go to bed.”

She came back to stand close to me. She had changed out of her white dress and was wearing the canary-coloured slacks again. I looked up at her. She was pale and her eyes were over-bright. For a brief second our eyes met, then she turned quickly away.

“He’s still unconscious,” she said to Parker. “He looks very bad.”

I felt a tingle run up my spine.

“Not half as bad as he’ll look when Gorman gets back. Go away. You shouldn’t be here.”

“Where is Cornelius?”

“He’s gone to Brett’s place to see if he can find out anything.”

“But what can he find out? The police will be there, won’t they?”

“How do I know?” His voice snapped at her. “Go to bed. I don’t want you here with him.”

“You’re not angry with me, Dominic?”

I moved my head slowly so I could watch them. She was standing over him, her slim fingers playing with the cosh, her eyes on his face.

“No, I’m not angry,” he said. “But go to bed. You can’t do anything.”

“Do you think he’s hidden it?”

Parker clenched his fists.

“I don’t know. That’s the trouble. That’s where he’s been so smart. It could have been destroyed. All this trouble: all these plans, and now we don’t know.” He thumped the arm of his chair. “Cornelius was crazy to trust this cheap, tricky crook.”

“Yes.” She was swinging the cosh idly in her hand now. “But Cornelius won’t be able to get near the house, will he? I don’t understand why he has gone.”

“He can’t do anything. I told him that, but he wouldn’t listen. He can’t rest until he knows. If he doesn’t find out anything he’ll kill Jackson. I don’t care what he does. I’m past caring.”

She pointed down at his feet.

“Is that something of yours?”

It was well done, casual and quiet; an ordinary everyday question. It fooled Parker; it nearly fooled me. He leaned forward to look. The back of his head was a perfect target. He spread out on his face on the floor. He didn’t even groan.

She stepped back, dropped the cosh; one hand went to her face.

“I liked your follow through,” I said.

She turned swiftly to look at me.

“What happens now?” I asked.

She continued to stare at me.

“There’s nothing else I could do, was there?” she said. Her words tumbled over themselves. “I couldn’t let them torture you.”

“That’s right,” I said. “How about cutting me loose?”

She moved quickly to the sideboard, found a knife and came over to me.

“I have a car outside. If only I knew where to go,” she said as she sawed at the ropes.

“You mean you want to come with me?” I knew she couldn’t stay here after sapping Parker, but I wanted to hear her say she would go with me.

“What else can I do?” she asked impatiently. “If Cornelius ever finds me after this — I don’t know what he’ll do to me.”

I threw off the last rope, got unsteadily to my feet.

“That’s fine,” I said, feeling my throat with tender fingers. “The moment I saw you I knew you and me were going to tie up. We’ll make a fine partnership.” I tottered over to the sideboard, poured myself a large drink. It hurt as it went down but it did me a power of good when it was down. “We’ll talk when we get out of here. I can’t go like this. Where does Parker keep his clothes?”

“The door facing the top of the stairs. Will he be all right?”

“Sure. He’ll sleep for hours. Wait for me. I won’t be long.”

I went over to Parker, turned him over, relieved him of his gun and stuck it in my hip pocket.

“I’ll be right with you,” I said and left her.

It took me ten minutes to wash and change into one of Parker’s less fancy suits. It was a little tight across the shoulders, but it would do at a pinch. I found a white silk scarf that I wound round my throat to hide the bruises. My head ached and my neck felt as if it’d been fed through a wringer, but taking me by and large, I felt pretty good.

I ran down the stairs, back into the lounge. She was waiting for me. There was an alert, watchful expression in her eyes and she was still pale.

I looked from her to Parker. He wouldn’t come to for hours.

“All set?” I asked, smiling at her.

“Where are we going?”

“Santa Medina. That’ll do us for tonight. We can make plans when we know more about each other. Taking anything with you?”

“My bag’s in the car.”

“Sounds like premeditation.”

“As soon as Cornelius left I knew what I was going to do.”

My heart was beginning to hammer against my ribs again.

“Now I wonder why you picked on me?” I asked.

She didn’t say anything and didn’t look at me.

“Maybe we’d better go,” I said after I’d given her time to answer if she was going to answer.

“Kiss me,” she said.

Well, that certainly took care of that. She had an unnerving effect on me. I was shaking when she pushed me away.

“Now we’ll go,” she said and went with me to the door.

We both stopped abruptly as we opened the front door.

Gorman was standing at the foot of the steps, looking up at us.

He was as startled as we were. I beat him to the draw.

“Watch it!” I said. My voice sounded like someone ripping a sunblind in half.

Gorman dropped his hands. His little black eyes went from me to Veda. His face was empty.

Max was in the car. He stared out of the window at me, his eyes wide with fright.

“You,” I said. “Get out of that. There’s a gun in his right-hand pocket. Get it.”

Max got out of the car, went up behind Gorman, dipped into his pocket and fished out the gun.

“Take it from him,” I said to Veda.

She went down the steps. Max held the gun out to her, butt first. She took it.

“You foolish child,” Gorman said to her. “You’ll be sorry for this.”

“Cut it out!” I said. “She’s coming with me.”

“Well, you’re lucky this time, Mr. Jackson,” he said quietly, “but I shall find you again, and I shall find you too, Veda.” He was very calm and controlled: it made him all the more dangerous. “I shall find you again; you can be sure of that.”

“Go in and keep Parker company. He’s kind of lonely in there. And I’ll have the ring. I’m a little pressed for cash.”

He looked down at the diamond and then at me.

“If you want it, you must take it,” he said and closed his hand into a gigantic fist.

“You forget I have the gun,” I pointed out. “A guy with a gun always gets his own way.”

“Not this time, Mr. Jackson.”

“Hand it over, pally.”

He didn’t move.

I felt Veda’s eyes on me. If I let this fat thug get away with it I’d lose caste. Besides, I needed the ring. But I wasn’t going near him. I knew if he got his hand on me I wouldn’t stand a chance.

“I’m sorry about this, Fatso,” I said and meant it. “But I want the ring. You’ll get a smashed foot if you don’t hand it over. I’ll give you three seconds.”

He stared at me, then his mouth twitched. It was the only sign of rage he had shown up to now. He saw I wasn’t fooling.

“Then take it, Mr. Jackson,” he said, pulling the ring off his finger. He threw it at my feet. “It’ll make it harder for you when next we meet.”

I picked up the ring and put it in my pocket. It’s a funny thing, but now I had it I knew all along I’d made up my mind to take it off him: the moment I’d seen it when he first came to my office.

We left him standing on the steps looking after us. Veda drove. Her car was an open coupe, fast and slick. I knelt on the seat, the gun in my hand, watching Fatso until I lost him in the darkness.

I had an uneasy feeling I’d meet him again.

CHAPTER SIX

NO TOURISTS ever go to Santa Medina and the millionaires shun it like a plague spot. After you’ve seen San Luis Beach I guess Santa Medina looks like a plague spot.

The only thing that thrives in this small compact town of wooden buildings, sun-bleached awnings and beer saloons is Mick Casy’s gambling joint, where sooner or later every crook, twister, con man and gambler from the four corners of the States looks in to say hello and shoot craps. Casy’s joint is famous along the whole of the Pacific Coast. They say if it wasn’t for Mick Casy, Santa Medina would have folded up long ago, and some think the sooner Casy clears out of town and lets it fold up the better.

The gambling joint dominates the town. You can see its big electric sign long before you even know there’s a town down there in the darkness. It is the only brick-tile building in the town, and it stands in a vacant lot with a broad concrete driveway up to the entrance.

“I’ve known Casy for a long time. I ran into him years ago before he was in the money. He used to play pool for a living in those days. There wasn’t a smarter guy with a cue in the country, but his reputation went ahead of him and he had trouble in getting a sucker to play with him. He was always broke at that time, and when I ran into him he had got himself mixed up in a shooting affair in Mac’s old place on the San Francisco waterfront. It had been a political killing, and the cops were looking for a fall guy.. They picked on Casy, and the frame would have stuck if I hadn’t come forward as the surprise witness at the trial. I proved Casy didn’t do the shooting because I swore he was with me at the time. He wasn’t, but it didn’t seem right to me that because a guy was broke and had no influence, the cops could pick on him to save the neck of some greasy politician who was too weak in the head to hold his liquor.

My testimony swayed the jury, and they threw out the case. Casy and I had to leave town fast. The cops would have given us a going-over if they’d’ve caught us, but we were too quick for them.

Casy took himself very seriously. He swore I’d saved his life. He said he’d never forget it, and he didn’t. Whenever I looked him up everything was on the house, and he’d get mad if I wanted even to settle my gambling debts. It embarrassed me and I gave up seeing him. I hadn’t seen him now for maybe six months.

Until I found out more about the compact and why Gorman wanted it so badly I decided to hole up with Casy. I’d be safe there and so would Veda. If Gorman tried any tricks, he’d find he wasn’t only bucking me but Casy and the whole town as well.

I explained to Veda about Casy as she drove down the mountain road to Santa Medina.

“All right,” she said out of the darkness. I could just see the outline of her head and the red spark of the cigarette she had in her mouth. “But I don’t want to talk now. I want to think. Do you mind if I think? We can talk later, can’t we?”

I didn’t get anything else out of her until she pulled up outside Casy’s joint.

“Is this it?” she asked.

I helped her out of the car and pointed to the electric sign. It was twenty-four feet square, and even from where we stood we could feel the heat from the neon lights.

“Speaks for itself, doesn’t it—” I said. “Come on in and meet Casy.”

The guard at the door gave me a quick, hard look, then touched his cap. He was paid to know who could go in there without a frisk and who couldn’t. I guess he earned his money.

“The boss around?” I asked him.

“In the office.”

“Thanks.”

I took Veda’s arm and we went through the lobby, across a sea of drugget, past one of the five bars and down a passage that led to Casy’s quarters. Close by a very hot band was playing. There was a smell of tobacco smoke and whisky in the air.

It wasn’t a luxury joint, but it served its purpose. You could find anything you wanted within its walls from a willing blonde to a poker chip. Casy catered for all vices. The only reason the cops hadn’t slammed the place shut was the Police Chief himself had a kink and Casy looked after him.

A guy with a profile like Byron, only better, in a nifty white flannel suit and with a cornflower in his buttonhole, drifted out of a room and minced towards us. He looked at Veda with eyes like the eyes of Disney’s Bambi, fluttered long lashes at her and minced on.

The expression on her face made me laugh. I took her into the bar that was reserved for Casy’s friends. The room was full of men and tobacco smoke. Joe, Casy’s bodyguard, a short, thickset guy with a flat, ugly puss and eyes like chips of ice, heaved himself away from the bar and came scowling towards me. But he grinned when he recognized me and gave me a light punch on the chest. Then he saw Veda and he pursed his thick lips.

“Hello, chummy,” he said to me. “Where did you spring from? Ain’t seen you in months.”

“Casy around?”

He jerked his head to the door at the far end of the room.

“Go ahead. He ain’t doing nothing.”

All the men had stopped talking and were staring at Veda. I didn’t blame them. I guess if she took a walk through a burial ground the graves would give up their dead. But I hunched my shoulders and looked tough just to let them know it wouldn’t be healthy to get the wrong ideas. She walked past those guys as if they were poles in a sheep fence.

“That door there,” I said to her, and she turned the handle and walked right in.

Casy was sitting at his desk, a bottle of Scotch at his elbow, a cigar in his small white teeth. He was in shirt-sleeves and his tic hung loose and his collar was open. His black thick hair looked as if he’d just run his fingers through it.

“Floyd!” He jumped to his feet. “Well, what do you know! How are you, soldier?”

I shook hands and we tried to crack each other’s bones. Casy has quite a clutch.