Manhunt. Volume 1, Number 12, December, 1953

Switch Ending by Richard Marsten

You get out of jail and you look for your son. And when your son’s headed for jail, too, you get mad. Killing mad.

I held Tigo against the wall with one fist bunched into the front of his shirt, and with his spit falling down over his lips and jaw and trailing onto my hand.

“Where is he now?” I asked.

Tigo shook his head, with his eyes blue and wide, and streaked with bloodshot cobwebs.

“Where is he, Tigo? Tell me where he is.”

Tigo started to shake his head again, and this time I helped him a little. I gave him the back of my knuckles, hard, splitting his cheek and mixing a little blood with his spit. His head rocked over to one side, and a wash of sweat spilled from his straight black hair.

“You were supposed to take care of him, Tigo. All right, you didn’t. Now all I want to know is where is he? Either that, or we play the game, Tigo, only we play it harder.”

“Danny, I’m your brother-in-law, your own...”

“Where is he, Tigo?”

“It’s not my fault your sister left me, Danny. You can’t blame that on me. I watched the kid good, I swear. I took care of him...”

“Where is he?”

“I don’t know, Danny.”

I hit him again, only this time it wasn’t my knuckles. This time it was my bunched fist, and it collided with the bridge of his nose, and his eyes began to water and blood spilled from his nostrils in a steady stream, warm with the heat of his body.

“Danny...”

“Where, Tigo?”

His eyes held the opaque stare of someone who’s been on heroin for a long time, and I thought of the kid and cursed my rotten sister for walking out and leaving him with this lump. I hit Tigo again, and he screamed like a woman in childbirth, and the sweat stood out on his face in giant shimmering globules. He moved his lips, and I was ready to start on his teeth next when he began to blubber.

“Don’t hit me again, Danny. Lay off, please, lay...”

I drew back my fist and his eyes went blank with fright.

“No!” he screamed. “No, I’ll tell you. I’ll tell you, Danny.”

“Fast.”

“The broad,” he gasped.

“What broad?”

“Connie. Connie.” He was gasping for breath, and I still held the front of his shirt, and my fist was still cocked.

“Connie? What do you mean, Connie? You know what you’re saying, you bastard?”

“Connie Blaine. I swear, Danny.”

“You’re a liar, Tigo. You’re a lying bastard.”

I pulled back my fist, ready to really let him have it this time, and he started screaming like an animal.

“I’m telling the truth, Danny. He’s with Connie Blaine. Danny, this is the goods. Danny, I swear. Danny, I wouldn’t snow you, not you, Danny. Danny...”

“Shut up!”

“Danny...”

“Shut up, Tigo.”

He stopped blubbering, and I held his shirt in my fist and thought for a few minutes, and then I asked, “How long has this been going on?”

“A year or so. Danny, I watched him good, like my own son, I swear. But Connie...”

“Connie Blaine? My kid, with Connie Blaine?”

“He ain’t such a kid, Danny. He must be twenty-one now. He...”

“Where does Nick fit in?”

“Nick?”

“Don’t play dummy, Tigo. Where does Nick fit the picture? Don’t tell me he’s going to sit with his thumb in his nose while a kid like Johnny plays house with his broad. Where does he fit?”

“I guess they busted maybe. Nick and Connie, I guess they did.”

“Don’t make me laugh.” I paused and said, “Where’s her pad?”

“You ain’t going there, are you, Danny? Jesus, if they find out I told you...”

“Where’s her pad?”

“Danny...”

“Tigo, if you want your teeth, tell me where she shacks. Tell me damned fast, Tigo, or you’ll be chewing with your gums.”

He considered this for two seconds, and then he told me. I left him slouched against the wall, and I went looking for Connie Blaine.

She was the same Connie, better if anything. She opened the door, and she was wearing silk lounging pajamas, and the pajamas didn’t try to hide one line of her body, and neither did Connie. With some broads, a man acts like a tonic, any man. It was that way with Connie. When she opened the door and saw it was a man, she sucked her stomach in flat and threw out her chest, and the naked nipples under the pajama top punched harsh holes in the silk. Her hand went unconsciously to her hair, patted it, and she said, “Danny, I’ve been expecting you.”

“I’ll bet. Where is he?”

“Where’s who?”

I started in, and she moved to one side, leaving me just enough room to get by. I got by, brushing against her, and I smelled the heavy sensuous perfume on her. Her hair was black and tousled, and her brows were the same black, the black of pitch. Her eyes were half-closed, and she always looked as if she’d come straight from a haystack, She closed the door and walked to a low end table, leaning over to spear a cigarette from the container there. Her pajamas tightened across her back. I went through the apartment fast, and found nothing. When I came back, she had the cigarette going.

“Where’s the kid?” I asked.

“Your son, you mean?”

“My son, I mean.”

She blew out a cloud of smoke, looked at me through it, and said, “How should I know?”

“I’ve been hearing things, Connie.”

“Like what?”

“Like you and Nick are on the rocks. Like my son’s climbed into the saddle. I don’t like it.”

“Why not?”

“You know why not, baby. Don’t give me the big blue-eyed stare. You know why not.”

“Johnny’s a big boy now, mister. He chooses his own playmates.”

“And I don’t like the playmates he chooses.”

“He does. He likes it fine.”

“I can imagine. It must be real professional.”

“Look, Danny, if you came here to be insulting...”

“I came here to find Johnny. He’s just a kid, and I don’t want him messing with you or with the company you keep.”

“He’s twenty-one. That’s old enough to vote, buster, and it ain’t such a kid. It ain’t a kid at all.”

“A little hair under the armpits don’t make a man. Where is he?”

“How the hell should I know? You’re such a big-shot, you find him.”

I glared at her, and we were both silent for a moment, and then she smiled, an arch smile that, curved her full lips.

“How was it?” she asked.

“Fine,” I said. “Just like a vacation.”

“I’ll bet.”

“It was. A vacation with pay. Five years, just like Nick said. Not bad at all.” I paused. “I took the rap, Connie. I didn’t mind. Fifty grand is a lot of loot for a small stretch.”

“And now you’re back.”

“Now I’m back. I had the vacation, and now I want the pay.”

“So talk to Nick. He’s the man with the bankroll.”

“I’ll get to him. In the meantime, keep clear of Johnny.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t like the idea of coming straight from rock-breaking and finding him Christ knows where. I don’t like it at all. I busted my back to keep him away from all this junk, and he’s not going to get poisoned by it now.”

“You’re the one to talk, all right.”

“You bet I’m the one to talk. I’m the one to talk because I’m in it up to my nostrils, and it stinks. But it’s not going to touch him. I’ve got fifty grand coming from Nick. I’m going to send the kid away with that and...”

“Stop calling him a kid, goddamnit!”

“... and if you try to swing your hips into this, you’re liable to wake up with something broken.”

“You’re scaring me, Danny.”

I smiled. “Nick’s a big man, huh? Is that what you’re thinking? Baby, Nick can’t watch you all the time. All I need is a few minutes. So steer clear of Johnny.”

“I steer where I want to. No two-bit punk is going to direct my kicks.”

“Where is he now?”

“Where’s who now?”

“Johnny. You know damn well who...”

“If you think he’s here, have another look.” She laughed, a short malicious laugh. I glared at her and then went through the place with a fine comb. When I was finished, she said, “You satisfied?”

It was an obscene suggestion, the way she said it.

I turned my back on her and walked out.

Nick Trenton seemed glad to see me. He extended a beefy paw and took my hand in his, pumping it hard. He was a big boy, Nick, with a round face and heavy shoulders and chest. There was a time when a shoulder holster spoiled the cut of his three-hundred dollar suits. No more now. Now Nick hired his guns. He also hired his fall guys, and I’d been one of them, and I wanted my fifty grand now.

“You look good, Danny,” he told me. “A little pale, but otherwise fine.”

I grinned tightly and said, “I found a home at Sing Sing.”

Nick laughed, a good clean booming laugh. “They say you keep your sense of humor, and you’re all right. Yessir, Danny, it doesn’t seem to have hurt you one bit.”

“Not a bit.” I paused. “There’s a little matter, Nick.”

“Ah yes, the little matter.”

“A little matter of fifty G’s. You remember.”

“I remember, Danny,” Nick said. “A man don’t forget fifty G’s so easy, nosir. I remember, and I’m grateful as hell. A man does something for me, and it’s appreciated.”

I smiled. “Fine,” I said. “Let’s see the color of your appreciation.”

Nick laughed aloud again, and his belly shook under his tailor-made suit. He walked around behind his desk, and opened the top drawer. He pulled out a narrow black book, threw it on the desk top, and then reached for a pen.

“A check all right?” he asked.

“No,” I said.

Nick looked surprised. “Danny, my check’s as good as gold.”

“I know. I prefer the gold.”

“Danny, Danny.” He chuckled a little, softly this time. “I don’t keep that kind of dough around. Why won’t you take a check?”

“Because maybe I’ll never get to the bank with it. Maybe I’ll never get to cash it, and it’s a simple thing to stop a check — especially when the payee is dead.”

Nick shrugged. “What’s the difference? I mean, okay, you don’t trust me.” He shrugged again. “But if I was going to have you cooled, I could do it even if I paid cash. I mean, a dead man don’t put up a fight when someone goes through his pockets.”

“I know. That’s why I want it in savings bonds.”

“What?”

“Savings bonds. United States Government Savings Bonds. All in capital letters, Nick. Fifty grand worth. With my son as beneficiary.”

Nick studied me for a moment and then nodded. “How’d you figure that one out?”

“I had a long time to think about it.”

“Well, if you want the bonds, I’ll get them. But it’ll take a little while.”

“No time at all,” I told him. “You can send a man to the bank now. I’ll come back later.”

“You really don’t trust me, do you?”

“Not a bit, Nick. Not one goddam bit.”

Nick smiled. “You should have thought of that before you took the rap.”

“I should have, but I didn’t. I should have been paid in advance. A man can’t think of everything, Nick. I’m doing all my thinking now.”

“Sure.” Nick smiled. “You got nothing to worry about, anyway. Nick Trenton never welshes. You come back at about six, Danny. I’ll have the bonds for you then.”

“With Johnny as beneficiary, don’t forget.”

“I won’t forget.”

“One other item, Nick.”

“What’s that?”

“Where’s Johnny now?”

Nick smiled and shrugged. “How should I know?”

I tried to figure it.

I tried to figure why a broad who’d tumbled with every big wheel in the racket would give a second look to a kid like Johnny. I tossed it around, and I came up with zero each time, so I let it drop. I let it drop, and I searched the city for a kid I hadn’t seen in five years.

He’d been sixteen when I went away, and the courts had awarded him to my closest female relative, my sister. She’d been okay then, and Tigo’d been a fairly good man. But times had changed, and Christ alone knew where she was, and Tigo had a habit as long as my arm. So now the kid was somewhere in the jungle of the city, only he wasn’t such a kid anymore. He was big enough to play with Connie Blaine, and that’s pretty damned big. Only why?

I started hitting the bars, figuring I’d pick up the word in one of them. Nobody knew, or if they knew, they weren’t saying. In the fifth bar, I ran into Hannigan.

He stood there with one foot hooked on the rail, and with a shot glass in front of him on the bar. He looked just the way he’d looked five years ago, but maybe cops never change.

I walked over to the bar, and he said, “Well, if it ain’t.”

“It ain’t,” I told him. I turned to Mike, the bartender, and said, “A double whiskey.”

“How was the trip?” Hannigan asked.

“Nice. I missed you.”

“Wished I was there, huh?” Hannigan laughed mirthlessly. He was a big cop, and a tough one, and I think he was still sore about my taking the rap. He’d hauled Nick in, anxious to slap him behind bars, and then I’d come along with my story and full confession, and that left Hannigan with an empty sack. I’d had reasons, though, and you don’t explain reasons to a cop. When a kid’s mother is gone and his old man is in the rackets, you got to be careful. Fifty grand can help you be very careful. That fifty grand was going to keep the kid away from the slime.

Mike brought the whiskey, and I downed it.

“When’s the payoff?”

“What payoff, cop?”

“You know, Danny. Fifty grand, ain’t it? The rumble’s out.”

“The rumble’s wrong. Nobody’s getting paid for anything.”

“That may be truer than you think.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, ignoring his meaning.

“You clean, Danny?” Hannigan asked.

“Try me,” I said.

Hannigan stood up, stretched, and then began frisking me.

“You know,” I said, “I think you get a charge out of this, Hannigan. I think frisking is just an excuse with you.”

“Go to hell,” he told me.

“I’m not heeled. You can relax.”

Hannigan fished into my pocket. “No? What’s this?”

“For paring my nails. Any law against that?”

“It depends. How long is the blade?”

“Under four inches.” I smiled. “You want to measure it?”

“I’ll take your word, Danny.”

“Thanks.”

Hannigan climbed back onto the bar stool and was quiet for a moment. Then he said, “Your son...”

“What about my son?”

“Don’t put up your guard, goddamnit. I know what you’re trying to do for him, and I admire it. That’s the only thing I do admire about you.”

“So?”

“So it’d be a shame if everything you’re trying to do goes down the drain.”

“What do you mean, cop?”

“Stories, Danny. Stories that the kid is turning into a cheap hood. Stories that he’s already done some gun jobs for Nick Trenton. Stories that...”

“Shut up, cop.”

“Stories that Connie Blaine’s got him wrapped up. All she does is wiggle her backside and the kid would gun his own grandmother.”

“Shut up, I said!”

“Stories like that.”

“Keep your stories, and shove off. I like to choose my drinking companions.”

“Sure. But you’re liable to be mighty surprised, Danny.”

“I don’t need any advice from you, Hannigan.”

“I’m not offering any, smart guy. But remember that I’m going to get Nick Trenton some day, and there won’t be another sucker around to sub for him next time. I’m going to get him no matter who’s in the way, Danny. And I hope your son isn’t.”

“Don’t worry. He won’t be.”

“We’ll see.”

“We’ll see. So long, cop.” Hannigan left, and I hung around a while and then covered the other joints I could think of. Before I knew it, it was six o’clock, so I hurried over to Nick’s pad. He lived in an ornate joint, with a dozen elevators in the lobby and a pile of uniformed jokers running them. I took a car up to the twelfth floor and then walked down to the end of the hall and pressed the stud in the door jamb. I heard three chimes sound inside, and then the door opened.

Connie Blaine opened it.

She was dressed to kill this time, wearing black silk that dipped low over her full breasts. She smiled and said, “You’re late, Danny.”

“A little. I didn’t know there was going to be a party.”

“Come on in.”

I followed her into the apartment and into Nick’s den. He was sitting behind his desk when I came in, and he stood and walked over to me and shook my hand.

“Right on time, eh, Danny?” he said, smiling.

“A little late, Connie tells me.”

Nick beamed. “You can never be too late when fifty G’s is involved. Ain’t that right, Danny?” He kept smiling, and I didn’t like the smile or the way his eyes didn’t match his mouth. I watched him, and I said nothing.

“You want the bonds, I guess,” he said.

“You guess right.”

“Well, no sense wasting time, is there?” He walked around to his desk, and opened the top drawer again. This time he came out with a sheaf of bonds, and he dropped them on the desk top and said, “There they are, boy. Nick Trenton never welshes.”

I smiled and walked over to the desk, leafing through the bonds. It was all there, fifty grand worth.

“Okay?” Nick asked. The smile hadn’t left his face.

“So far,” I said. I slipped one of the bonds out from under the rubber band and I examined it more closely. My hand shook a little, and I felt the sweat break out on my brow.

“What are you trying to pull, Nick?”

“Pull? What’s wrong, Danny? Something wrong?”

“You know damn well what’s wrong. I told you to make Johnny beneficiary.”

“Didn’t they? I told them to...”

“You’re listed as beneficiary, Nick. Beneficiary, Nick Trenton. What’s the idea?”

Nick shook his head. “A stupid mistake. You just can’t trust these banks, can you, Danny?”

“You’re dumber than I thought, Nick,” I said.

“Really?” He was smiling again, and the smile burned me.

“This is about as obvious as a rivet. You keep your bargain, but I get cooled the second I step out of here, and. the fifty grand goes back to you. You must think the police are meatheads.”

Nick stopped smiling, and his eyes narrowed with a crafty look. “Can I help it if you like me and list me as beneficiary? And can I help it if you have an accident? Can I...”

“Look, Nick...”

“No, you look, stupid. You think I’m going to do the gunning? You think the police will be able to pin anything on me?”

“Let’s get this over,” Connie said.

“You’re playing in the wrong league, punk,” Nick said tightly. He smiled again, and added, “I’m really doing you a favor, Danny. A punk is liable to flip his wig over so much cabbage. I’m saving you a trip to the nut hou...”

I reached over the desk and grabbed Nick’s lapels with one hand. I brought the other hand back and forward before he had a chance to move, catching him on the jaw and rocking his head back. He was out before I hit him the second time, but I followed through anyway and then let his lapels go. He flopped to the rug like a dead whale, and I scooped up the bonds and turned to Connie.

“Tell your boyfriend I’m going to the bank now. Tell him these bonds’ll be cashed before he comes to. Tell him he can whistle then.”

“You’re not going anyplace,” the voice said.

It was not a familiar voice. I turned rapidly and saw the open door to the right of Nick’s desk. I saw the figure standing in the doorway, and then my eyes dropped to the .45 in the guy’s fist.

My eyes moved up slowly to the guy’s face.

It had changed. It had been boyish the last time I’d seen it, with rounded cheeks, with peach fuzz, with an innocent smile. It had narrowed now, sharpened with maturity. The lips were thin, and a heavy shadow had replaced the peach fuzz. The cheeks were hollow, and the mouth was unsmiling, and the eyes held me most of all, because the eyes were hard and glittering.

“Hello, pop,” Johnny said. He said “pop” bitterly, as if the word burned his tongue.

“Johnny...”

“Don’t move, pop. Don’t move a goddamn inch.”

“Put that gun up, Johnny. What the hell do you think...”

“Shut up!”

“You surprised, Danny?” Connie said. She stood beside me, and she smiled triumphantly, and her breasts heaved in excitement. “You surprised, you bastard?”

“Look...”

“Tell your son what you told me this afternoon. Go ahead. Tell him what a tramp I am. Tell him all about it. Go ahead.” She turned to Johnny. “Listen to him, Johnny. Listen to the bastard talk about me.”

“I don’t have to hear anything, Connie,” he said.

I looked at him, and I was looking at a stranger, and I tried to think of all the things that had happened to him in five years. Connie Blaine had happened to him, and that could have been enough.

“Johnny,” I said, “put up that gun. I’m your father. I’m...”

“You’re a punk,” he said. “You’re a punk who got suckered into taking a bum rap. That’s all you are. A step above Tigo. Good old Uncle Tigo.”

“Johnny, for Christ’s sake, can’t you see what they’re trying to pull? Can’t you see that you’ll be the fall guy? The way I was? The way...”

“You don’t think Connie’s good for me, huh? A punk like you making decisions, huh? That’s a laugh.”

“Johnny, I’ve got fifty G’s. We can get away from here. We can...”

“Get away from Connie? Leave her? You’ve got a hole in your head, old man.”

I looked at Johnny’s face, and I saw the eyes, and they were the eyes of someone who’d killed before. They were the eyes of everything I’d tried to keep him from, and it was too late now because the kid had pulled a real switch on the old man who’d tried like hell to keep him away from it. He’d turned into a real killer, and that was a big laugh. Except that it wasn’t funny because his knuckle was turning white around the trigger, and I thought, Christ, he’s rotten.

The knowledge made me a little sick, but there was no time for crying and no time for thinking. There was only time to grab Connie. I yanked her wrist and whirled her around in front of me, and then the .45 exploded.

She screamed when the slug tore into her chest, and then she dropped to the rug and Johnny’s face went white with hatred. I ran across the room, yanking the knife from my pocket as he brought the .45 up again.

I pressed the stud, and the switch blade snapped open, and it was only three-and-a-half inches long, and that didn’t make it a dangerous weapon as far as the police were concerned. I was close to him now, and I looked into those eyes once more, and I saw everything I had to know there, all the slime and all the filth, and the rotten road that ended bleeding in a gutter.

I ducked under his arm, and the .45 went off close to my head, and I smelled the stench of cordite, and then I brought the switch knife up and sank it into his gut. I twisted the knife and then slashed it across his middle and up and across the other way, and his face tightened in pain, and he screamed, “You punk bastard,” and I knew I was doing the right thing.

His eyes went blank then, and the killer light went out of them as he fell to the rug. I yanked the knife clear of his body, and there were tears in my eyes and. I couldn’t see too well, but I went to where Nick Trenton lay unconscious, and I kicked him in the head to make sure, and then lugged him out from behind the desk.

I called Hannigan then.

When he got there, my eyes were dry.

The bonds were in my jacket pocket, and my knife was in Nick Trenton’s fist.

“I figure they got into a fight over the broad,” I said.

“This is the way you found them, huh, Danny?”

“Yes.”

“I’m... I’m sorry about your son, Danny. I...”

“Skip it, Hannigan.”

“Sure.”

Hannigan stooped down near Nick and said, “He’s going to be mighty surprised when he wakes up. This is the end of him, you know.”

“I know.”

Hannigan looked at the blood-smeared knife in Nick’s fist.

A look of recognition crossed his face, and then he lifted his head and stared at me for a few minutes, saying nothing.

He did not mention the knife when he stood up and walked to the phone.

He simply said, “I’ll call headquarters. They’ll want to come down for Trenton.”