Gang Pulp

Hair-Trigger By William E. Poindexter

Racketeer Stories, March 1930

Benny was leader — and now he was out — croaked by one of his own mob! But. Benny never needed to hire a rod to protect himself. Even in death, Benny would get the rat that got him!

Benny Appco, youthful gang leader, lay dead in the front room of his home. Suffocating masses of flowers, tribute not only of gangland, but of many within the law, were piled high about him, filling the room and overflowing into the other parts of the house, accentuating the air of death that pervaded the place.

Stella Maud sat by her bedroom window, staring somberly down into the street which was still crowded by the morbidly curious, tears in her heart but not in her eyes.

Stella Maud was an anomaly of the underworld. She was a one-man woman. Since that time almost six years before, when the young Italian had swept her off her feet and carried her triumphantly from under the very guns of “Red” Vernon and his North Side gang, she had been loyal to him.

Stella Maud rose and paced the floor, lighting a cigarette only to crush it under her heel the next minute. The yellow morning sunlight streaming in upon her picked out hard lines in her face that had not been there yesterday. The word had gone out that Red Vernon had put Benny on the spot, but she didn’t believe it. It had none of the earmarks of Vernon’s work. She knew. With a quick, terrible exclamation deep in her throat, she threw open her door.

“Are you there, Steve?” she called huskily.

Steve Maris was there, small, quiet, insignificant-looking. As far as appearances went he might have been an elderly ribbon clerk on his day off. His eyes were those of the killer. Deadly eyes. Chilled steel.

“Steve, now that Benny’s gone, you’re the only one of the mob I can trust. This thing looks queer to me — damn queer. Has Rat Martin been around lately?”

Steve looked at her without apparent emotion, and shook his head slowly. “You don’t think he—”

She hesitated a moment in indecision. “No, I don’t,” she said at last with a gesture of contempt. “The rat wouldn’t have the nerve to do it himself. But he might know who did do it. He knows everything.”

Steve’s eyes grew a shade paler, a degree more deadly. “I’ll make him talk,” he said laconically.

“No, Steve, you’re a good egg, but let me handle this. Do you know where I can locate the Rat?”

He gave her a number. “It’s early, probably won’t be up yet,” he said with an economy of words.

She nodded, flung on her hat and coat, saw that the efficient little automatic in her handbag was ready for business. She went out, avoiding the room where Benny lay, and stepped into her low-slung Cadillac sedan with its cleverly armored body and bullet-proof glass. Twenty minutes later she stood before a door in a cheap rooming house. She tried the knob, found the door unlocked, and without hesitation pushed it open.

As she stepped in, the man on the bed turned in one swift movement, covering her with an automatic. She made a gesture of disdain.

“Put it up,” she said contemptuously. “Getting careless, leaving the door unlocked, ain’t you?”

“Guess I was drunk last night,” he admitted a bit sheepishly. “What you doing here, Stell?” He sat up, running his fingers through his tousled hair, his narrow, red-rimmed little eyes regarding her shrewdly.

“Listen Rat, who croaked Benny?”

“How do I know? Probably Red—”

“Hell!” she spat at him. “It wasn’t Red’s work and you damn well know it. You know who done it — you know everything.”

He chuckled, then his eyes grew hard. “You’re right,” he said slowly, “I know who done it an’ I’m going to tell you. I’ve got a good reason for lettin’ you know. It was Slink Douglas who put Benny on the spot.”

A slight swaying of her body was the only sign that the news was a terrific shock to her. Slink Douglas, Benny’s most trusted friend, with the exception of Steve Maris. Sudden divination came to the girl.

She nodded without apparent emotion. “But I’ll guarantee that you had your finger in it, too,” she said, and forced her mouth into a smile.

The Rat grinned back. “Maybe,” he admitted complacently, “but it was Slink who put the lead in ’im. Now listen here, Stell, you know yourself that the gang’s been ready for a new leader for a long time, an’ Slink fancies himself for the job. That suited me all right, I never had any love for Benny, anyway. So I did what I could to help him. But I didn’t know till afterwards that Slink not only wanted Benny’s mob, but he wanted Benny’s moll as well!”

“He did, huh? Well, what’s that got to do with you?”

“It’s got everything to do with me. Think I’d spill this if it didn’t? As long as Slink only wanted to be leader of the gang, I was for him. But now that I know he wants you, I’m against him.

“Stell. Benny must have at least a hundred grand soaked away, maybe two hundred. You an’ me are goin’ to take that coin, baby, an’ beat it to New York. From there we’ll go to Paris, we’ll see the world. To hell with the gang — an’ with Slink Douglas, too!”

Stella Maud opened her hand-bag, took out a powder puff and patted her nose with it. When she replaced it she neglected to close the bag.

The Rat rambled on. “I’ve always known you was crazy about me, Stell,” he stated with noticeable lack of modesty, “only you didn’t dare cross Benny. Now that he’s out of the way, you’re gonna be my girl, an’ we’ll take a long trip—”

Her hand stole again to the handbag. “You mean you’re going to take a long trip. Rat.” Her voice broke, rose in a shrill falsetto of passionate, ungovernable hate. “A trip to hell, damn your dirty soul, a trip to hell!” The automatic gleamed evilly in her hand.

“Listen Stell, for God’s sake put that thing down! Stell! Don’t be a damned fool!”

His face livid with fear, he flung himself at her and she pressed the trigger twice. His body fell against her, almost knocking her from her feet, and there were twin holes in the center of his forehead.

She dropped the pistol back in her bag and deliberately placed her foot upon his still writhing mouth, ground down upon it with a cruel heel, elemental hate and fury in the action. Almost instantly she regained her composure and stepped hastily to the window.

A policeman walking his beat had heard the shots and was running towards the building. Without an instant’s hesitation she jammed her hat lower over her face, pulled up the fur collar of her coat and flung up the window.

“Help! Police!” she screamed at the top of her voice. The cop saw her, increased his pace and clattered up the stairs. She met him in the dimly lighted hall.

“Oh, my God!” she moaned, apparently half-fainting. “They got him, they got him!”

“Pull yourself together, miss,” the policeman cried hoarsely, catching her not ungently by the arm. “What’s the trouble? Who got who?”

“Oh, quick, quick!” she screamed. “They’ll get away — down the back stairs!” She leaned weakly against the wall, and the cop dashed away, revolver in hand.

As soon as he was out of sight she walked down the steps, turned the corner without haste, entered the Cadillac and a few minutes later was back in her room.

“The Rat talked,” she told Steve with a grim little laugh. Then as an afterthought: “But he won’t talk again.”

The gunman shot a quick glance at her but said nothing. She walked the floor with quick, nervous strides, her graceful body swaying with unconscious seduction. Her keen mind was working in swift flashes, forming plans, revising them, rejecting them. Gradually a light dawned in her eyes, a triumphant light. She turned to Steve.

“Listen, Steve, I croaked the Rat. He had it coming to him, but he was only a tool in the hands of the one who got Benny from spot.” She paused, her body strangely tense.

“Steve, you know how Benny always was. When anybody did him dirt, he didn’t hire a gun to even things for him. No, he always settled his scores in person. Steve, let the word go out that before Benny is put underground, he’ll get the one who killed him!”

“Stell, stop that!” Steve’s voice was sharp. “Don’t let this thing get you. You talk like that an’ you’ll land in the bughouse. Benny’s dead, Stell.”

“You do as I tell you, Steve,” she insisted. “I know it sounds crazy, but if you want to help me, do as I say. Pass the word around that Benny’s not through yet. Tell ’em Benny’ll get the rat who croaked him!”

Steve looked at her thoughtfully. “Why not let me know who killed him, Stell. I’ll get him for you. You know you can depend on me.”

“I know, Steve, but think how it would please Benny to know that he’d steeled this affair himself.” She choked suddenly, then straightened defiantly, forcing back her emotion. “I’ve got a better way, Steve. Please do as I say.”

Again he looked at her with that curiously appraising stare that seemed to bore straight into her innermost thoughts.

“Oke, Stell,” he said at last.

“And Steve — be sure the mob is at the funeral this afternoon; all of ’em.”

He nodded. “They’ll be here,” he said briefly, and turned silently away.

A few minutes later Slink Douglas entered and leaned in the doorway, his eyes flaming as they devoured her lithe body.

“Rotten luck, Stell, Benny gettin’ it like that. But it’s how he’d like to pass out — with a bullet in ’im. The boys are givin’ him a great shove-off, too. Benny was a grand little guy.”

For an instant she bit her lips savagely, fighting desperately for self-control. Her hands twitched at her breast and she lowered her eyes so that he could not see what was in them.

“Yeh,” she said at last, “and it’s the grand little guys who always get bumped off — shot in the back — by their friends. Friends!” She fairly spat the word.

“Aw, Stell,” Slink remonstrated, “you shouldn’t ought to say that when nobody knows who croaked him. But, whoever done it. I’ll find him, kid — I’ll get him for Benny — an’ for you.”

“Lookit, Slink!” Stella Maud whirled on him so passionately that his beady black eyes narrowed swiftly. “Lookit, Slink. Benny never needed nobody to get a guy for him — an’ never will. He never asked nobody to do what he could do himself, and do better.”

“Sure, Stell, sure, but you gotta remember that Benny’s gun finger is stiff now!”

Stella Maud reached into the front of her black dress and brought forth a small revolver which was constructed with the care and delicacy of a high-priced watch. Slink straightened up and eyed her calculatingly.

“That’s Benny’s rod,” said Stella Maud, fondling it, caressing it, “and I’m going to plant it with him. He’ll need it maybe where he’s goin’. He didn’t think no more of it than he did of the hand he used it with. See, it’s got a hair-trigger, Slink. If you breath hard it says ‘hello’ and ‘good by’ at the same time. Slink, Benny knows who got him, and as sure as hell, Slink, he’ll get the yella, lousy rat that croaked him before they put him under the dirt!”

Slink Douglas shifted his feet uneasily and fumbled for a cigarette.

“All right, Stell,” he soothed, “this thing’s gettin’ on your nerves. Now listen, baby, I don’t want to rush matters, but Benny’s as dead right now as he’ll ever be. The boys all know me an’ they’ll take orders from me. I’m ready to carry on where Benny left off. Stell, you know I’ve always been crazy about you—”

“Too crazy, maybe,” she said evenly.

His eyelids flickered rapidly. “What do you mean by that?” he snapped. “What do you mean by it?”

She shrugged her shoulders. A little smile came to her lips as she raised her eyes slowly to his. There was seduction in her eyes, a promise in her smile. His heart leaped as he stepped towards her.

“I always loved you, kid,” he said softly, “an’ now that Benny’s gone, you could do a lot worse than play along with me. Gee, kid, what do you suppose I’ve hung around all these years for? Just waitin’, Stell, for the time when I could have you!”

His face flushed, he reached out his arms for her. For an instant she hesitated, filled with a terrible nausea. In her green eyes were little flecks of red light. She swayed forward, allowed her slender body to mold itself against his.

Black thoughts were racing through her mind. “I could put an ounce of lead in his guts right now,” was the thought that burned through her. “The dirty, lousy rat, I could send him to hell so quick he’d be there before he knew it. No, no, I mustn’t do it that way!”

Her full mouth was against his, her hands were running through his hair caressingly. He was mumbling incoherent things into her ear that she did not hear.

“Benny,” she whispered deep down within her, “you understand, don’t you, honey? It’s for you, Benny. We’ll send him to hell, Benny, you and me.”

She pushed Slink away at last and sat down suddenly as her knees gave out from under her.

“You was Benny’s friend, wasn’t you, Slink?” she asked at last, her hands clenched close to her sides. “You was his pal, the one man he could depend on, wasn’t you, Slink?”

“Sure, I was Benny’s pal,” he replied quickly. “An’ as long as Benny was alive I never tried to get his moll away from him, even when I loved her. That’s how square I was kid.”

“Because you was yellow, you rat!” said Stella Maud, but she said it to herself. Then aloud: “Benny always trusted you, Slink. Why he used to say to me often, ‘Slink is the only guy in the whole damn mob that I’d trust to the limit.’ Only last night, not an hour before he was croaked he said to me, ‘Slink’s one white guy. I’d trust him with my life, my moll or my money.’ He sure thought the world of you, Slink.”

Douglas bit his lips and writhed nervously. She watched him, taking a fiendish delight in twisting the knife in him. He changed the subject.

“That’s over with, Stell. Let’s forget it. I’m chief of the best gang of guns in the country now, an’ as soon as I get things lined up, we’ll make more money than we ever did before. This is the time I’ve waited for, lived for. It’s been hell, kid, to love you as I do, an’ see you with another man. That’s over with. Gee, Stell—”

He reached for her again. She shrank back, almost at the end of her endurance, but he caught her fiercely by the shoulders, drew her from the chair and caught her to him. His lips bruised her mouth, his possessive hands ravaged her body.

“Don’t,” she half-sobbed, “don’t!”

There was a faint scraping sound at the doorway, and Slink turned sharply, his face paling and his hand reaching towards his hip. Steve Maris stood there, his face as emotionless as ever, his eyes seeming almost white, a heavy black automatic held close to his side.

“Let her go, Slink,” he said, his voice a low, even monotone. “Stand back from him, Stell. He’s lived long enough.”

Slink’s face turned a sickly yellow. “You keep out of this Steve,” he snarled. “What business you got buttin’ in on me an’ Stell? You sweet on her yourself?”

“Stand away from him, Stell.” There was no change in the killer’s voice. “I promised Benny years ago that I’d look after you if anything happened to him. Stand away from him.”

Stella Maud suddenly threw herself back into Slick’s embrace. “No, no!” she cried fiercely, “stay out of this, Steve. It’s all right, I tell you. You leave him alone.”

“She loves me,” boasted Slink. “Don’t you baby?”

“I... I... yes, I love him, Steve,” she answered, not meeting his accusing eyes.

The gunman stared at her, one corner of his mouth drawing down in a grimace of contempt. “All right,” he said at last, “I guess Benny and I was both wrong. You ain’t worth protectin’. Benny would be proud of you, Stell — in another man’s arms before he’s cold yet.”

“Steve — don’t!” The word was a sharp cry of pain. “You remember what I told you this morning, Steve — leave this thing to me.”

Again he subjected her to that searching stare that seemed to penetrate her most secret thoughts, and what he saw caused him to put the gun back in his pocket with a quick jerk of his arm.

“Oke, Stell,” he said laconically, and backed silently from the room.

“What’s the matter with the fool?” snarled Slink, brushing the perspiration from his face with a shaking hand. No one knew better than he how near death he had been.

She shrugged her shoulders. “He’s always been sort of a watch dog where I’m concerned,” she said, forcing a laugh. “Forget him. I’m going to ask you now, Slink. You’ll be here at two o’clock for the funeral, sure?”

“I’ll be here, kid,” he promised her. “And tonight, tonight you’ll be mine, won’t you baby?”

“I’ll be yours tonight — if you still want me then, Slink,” she said steadily. “But don’t forget, Benny’s going to get the skunk that croaked him. Funny how I know, ain’t it, Slink?”

“Cut out that crazy talk, kid,” he said roughly. “You better lay down and rest till the funeral. I’ll be back later.”

As soon as he was gone, she stepped quickly to the other room where Steve paced idly about. “Steve,” she said, “I want to be alone with Benny for awhile. Don’t let anyone come in. And whatever you do, Steve, leave Slink alone. Get me?”

He nodded without speaking, and she went into the room where the body of the gang chief lay, closed and locked the door. Once he heard something like a tearing, strangled sob from her, but when she came out a half hour later, her face wore a strange look of peace and exultation.

It was two o’clock in the afternoon, the room had been crowded and for an hour a long line of people had filed past the casket where the young king of gangland lay. Stella Maud stood aloof, watching, her eyes dry and bright. When Slink Douglas edged slowly up to pay his last respects to his chief, he found Stella Maud by his side.

“Benny was a grand little guy,” he whispered, his hand on her arm.

She nodded. “And he’ll get the man who croaked him, Slink,” she whispered. “Look at him. He knows who croaked him, and he’ll get him, sure as hell!”

Douglas shivered slightly and would have passed on, but she held him back.

“Benny always said you was his best friend. Don’t leave him like this. Shake hands with a grand little guy for the last time!”

“You’re batty,” he muttered uneasily, but she caught him frantically by the arm.

“If you love me, Slink!” she whispered tensely. “You’ll do it for me if you love me like you said. Here — stand — here!”

The gang chief’s body, in the open casket, was covered with flowers, leaving only the wax-like face and one hand exposed. There was no way for Douglas to avoid it. With a noticeable shudder he reached down and took the cold fingers gingerly. There was a muffled report and he fell to the floor, writhing, hands clutching at his stomach, his face twisted in pain and horror.

Before anyone could move, Stella Maud bent swiftly over him, her eyes flaming into his dying ones.

“Do you still want me now, Slink?” she mocked in a whisper of fierce hate and triumph. “I told you Benny would get the rat who croaked him, and he did! May your black soul rot in hell forever!”

Slink knew and understood, but before he could speak, the life-blood dyed his lips.

The police never discovered who killed Slink Douglas, for they never thought of accusing the dead man. Only Stella Maud knew that in Benny’s hand, concealed by the flowers, was a small revolver. A thread was attached to the hair-trigger so that a touch on the other hand fired the weapon.