Broadway Bounty

Chapter Thirty-five

Decker stood just inside the doorway of the café and looked at both waitresses. He’d been wrong. One of them had very slender calves, but the other one—Marcy, the one who was friends with Linda—had nice firm ones.

She turned and smiled when she saw him.

“Hello,” she said, approaching him. “Are you meeting Linda?”

“Linda’s not available,” he said.

“Oh?”

“She’s with a man.”

“Oh, I’m sorry—”

“His name is Ready, Oakley Ready.”

“Oak—that’s not possible,” she said, frowning.

“Why not?”

“Well he’s—I mean, he and I—He can’t be with Linda—”

“Not only is he with Linda,” Decker said, “he’s holding Linda.” He grabbed her by the shoulders.

“Marcy, he’s going to kill her. Because he wants me.”

“What for?”

“He had a friend of mine killed, had him shot in the back.”

“That’s not—”

“Don’t tell me it’s not possible,” he said, shaking her. “Does he have a lot of money?”

“Well, yes, but—”

He noticed a bruise at the corner of her mouth.

“He hit you, didn’t he?”

She raised her hand to the bruise.

“Look, Marcy,” he said, in a gentler tone, “he wants me to know where he is. That’s why he took Linda. Now tell me, before he kills her.”

She stared at his chest for a few moments, then gave him an address on Delancey Street.

“Second floor,” she added. “In the back.”

He ran outside and shouted the address to Rosewood.

“Do you know where that is?”

“Yep!”

“Let’s get there…fast!”

Decker had Rosewood stop the cab down the block, and they both got down.

“Stay here!” he said.

“Decker—”

“This time I mean it, Billy!” he said sharply. “Stay here.”

“All right.”

Decker checked the numbers on the buildings until he found the one he wanted. He tried the door and found it open.

Ready was really waiting for him.

He pulled the .45 from his belt and went inside.

He climbed the steps to the second floor, wincing as they creaked. When he reached the landing, he walked to the back. He was about to try the door when he heard noises from above—the sounds of more than one person going up the stairs. He stopped and listened.

“Decker!” a voice called from above.

He didn’t answer.

“I know you’re there, Decker! I’ve been waiting for you.” There was a moment’s silence, and then the voice said, “We’ve been waiting for you.”

There was another moment’s silence. Then he heard her cry out in pain.

“Come on up, Decker. To the roof. We’re waiting—but don’t keep me waiting too long.”

Decker started for the stairs, then paused and went to the apartment door. It was open, and he went in. He took a quick look around. If Ready’s money was there, it was hidden. After all he had spread around trying to get Decker killed, he wondered how much the man had left.

Rosewood had told him that a lot of buildings had ladders against the side, in case of fire. Decker moved to the window and saw a metal one along the side of the building. It reached from the ground floor to the roof.

He tucked the .45 back into his belt and climbed out of the window and onto the ladder.

Then he started climbing up, hoping that Ready would be expecting him to use the stairs.

The building was three stories high. Decker had been three stories high before, but never on a ladder. He hoped that it was securely affixed to the side of the building. He would hate to fall from that height. He kept climbing—it was so important that he reach the roof.

Finally he could reach up and grip the roof ledge. He pulled himself up until he was standing on the top rung of the ladder. From that position he could see Ready, holding Linda tightly to him with his left hand, a gun with his right. Ready was watching for Decker to come out the door from the stairway.

Decker was holding onto the ledge with both hands. He was nervous about letting go with one hand to reach for the .45. Even if he reached it, he was a lousy shot with a handgun.

He had to get up on the roof without being seen.

Jamming the toe of his boot against the side of the brick building, Decker reached for the inside of the ledge with one hand, holding the outside of the ledge with the other. He pulled himself up and quickly moved the outer hand to the inner ledge as well. In this position he was hanging there—helpless if Ready turned around. He pulled and lifted one of his legs, getting the knee up on the ledge. As he got his leg over, Oakley Ready glanced toward him. When Ready saw him, his mouth opened, and he turned, pointing his gun at Decker.

Ready fired once, but Decker pulled hard and fell onto the roof.

“Hold it right there, Decker!”

Crouched on the roof, Decker waited for Ready to fire again.

“You are Decker, aren’t you?” Ready asked.

“That’s right.”

“You’ve caused me a lot of grief.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Ha, I’m sure,” Ready shouted. “You’ve kept me from getting set up in this town. After you’re gone, I won’t have that problem anymore.”

“You’ve got to kill me first.”

“Decker—” Linda said. Decker had the impression that she was more afraid for him than she was for herself.

He understood that.

He felt the same way.

He supposed he was in love with her.

“Take that gun out of your belt and toss it away,” Ready said.

Decker took the gun out and obeyed.

“Take off your jacket.”

Decker took the coat off slowly, careful to hide the shotgun inside. He could have pulled it, but Linda was too close to Ready. He put the coat down on the rooftop. The knife was in his coat pocket, but it wouldn’t do him any good at this distance.

“Hold your arms away from your body and turn around,” Ready said, “all the way around.”

Decker turned in a complete circle, arms away from his body, so that Ready could see he was unarmed.

“All right,” Ready said, “all right.”

He pushed Linda away from him and said to her, “Sit on the ledge.”

She did so.

“On your hands,” he said, “sit on your hands.” She obeyed.

“All right, Decker,” Ready said, motioning with his gun. Decker noticed that it was a .45, like the one he’d taken from Coles. “Over to the edge.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re going off, that’s why.”

“I could get hurt.”

Ready laughed.

“You could get dead,” he said. “That’s the general idea.”

Decker hoped Linda wouldn’t try anything, but just at that moment she did.

“Linda, no—”

Linda sprang off the roof ledge, but she was painfully slow because she’d been sitting on her hands. Ready turned as she leaped at him and fired once.

Decker reached for the coat, hoping the shotgun wouldn’t get wrapped up in it. He closed his hand over it, and it came free.

Ready turned from Linda and pointed the gun at Decker. Decker came up with the shotgun, and they fired together.

Ready’s shot punched into Decker’s left side, took a chunk of meat with it and kept going.

Decker’s blast spread out as it traveled but was still lethal enough when it hit Ready to lift him off his feet and slam him against the stairwell door.

Decker dropped the shotgun and picked up Ar-mand Coles’s .45 just in case. He needn’t have bothered. Oakley Ready was dead.

The question was, how was Linda?