Murderers Row

TEN

I PAUSED OUTSIDE the door and fingered the bills in my pocket and wondered if I was giving the little girl a great big bargain or overcharging her outrageously. I wasn't up on current prices; Mac had neglected to tell me what Lash Petroni was supposed to charge for his services. I guess it hadn't occurred to him that employment might actually be offered me under this name.

I shook my head, squared my snappy, narrow-brimmed dark hat on my head, settled my sharp, narrow-shouldered dark coat, and headed for the car. When I got where I could see it plainly, I stopped. A man was sitting in the front seat, waiting for me.

I stood there for quite a while, feeling hurt and disappointed. I mean, I'd made myself perfectly clear. I'd said, If I bump into one of the boys, I'll go for him without asking questions.

It was too bad all around. It may have been a silly thing to say, but in the business we don't send messages like that without intending to back them up, regardless of consequences. Mac should have known I wouldn't try to bluff him. I reached slowly for Alan's revolver, for the second time that night. I moved to a corner of the building that would give me a rest for my gun hand. You can generally get by with one shot at that hour of the night, even a loud one from a short-barreled.38 Special. People will stir in their beds, they may even sit up and listen, but if they hear nothing more, it's a good bet they won't bother to rise and investigate.

I checked the line of fire carefully. There was nothing to deflect the bullet on my side of the target. Beyond, there was no risk of disabling my car if I got total penetration- not likely with a head shot at that range, anyway-and what happened to other cars down the row wasn't any worry. I drew back the hammer to full cock, and settled the rectangular blade of the front sight into the square notch of the rear sight. As I did so, the man in the car turned his head impatiently and looked back towards the building, obviously wondering what the hell was keeping me so long.

I let my pent-up breath go out slowly, and eased the pressure on the trigger. I was looking over the sights of a loaded and cocked revolver at the plump, cheerful features of Mr. William Orcutt, of the Annapolis Orcutts, known variously as Billy and Thunderbird.

I was shaking a little as I put the gun away. I walked quickly over there. He opened the car door as I came up.

"Mr. Petroni-"

I grabbed him by the coat and hauled him out. "What the hell are you doing in my car?"

"I wanted to talk to you, Mr. Petroni." He freed himself and smoothed his rumpled coat. "I wanted to tell you-"

He stopped, obviously embarrassed about something, trying to find the right words. I studied him bleakly. He wasn't bad-looking, just a little softer and heavier than he should have been-a crew-cut baby-face. Swimming was the only sport he'd be really good at, with that figure, but it wasn't the figure I was worrying about. I kept seeing his head the way it would have looked with a bullet hole in it.

"What did you want to tell me, punk?" My harsh voice didn't sound quite right, even for hard-boiled Petroni.

"I wanted, well, to tell you to stay away from Miss Michaelis." He hesitated, but I didn't say anything, and he went on quickly, "She's-well, a little mixed up. She told me, well, never mind. She's got some weird ideas. But I don't want you taking advantage of-I mean, she's a lovely person, but she needs someone to look after her."

"And you've elected yourself to the job?"

He cleared his throat, a little self-consciously. "Well, yes. After the way she insisted on waiting to speak with you outside the police station, it was obvious she had something crazy in mind. I-" He stopped and squared his shoulders. "I don't intend to let her ruin her life by becoming involved with a racketeer and strong-arm man, Mr. Petroni. She's just a crazy kid; she doesn't mean everything she says. I think she likes to pretend. Stay away from her, Petroni."

"Yeah," I said. "Stay away from her. Sure."

I hit him. I gave it to him hard and low, without warning, and he went to the ground, hugging himself where it hurt; and somebody was coming at me from behind. I whirled, ready, but it was only Teddy Michaelis in her blue pajamas. She made her way up to us cautiously, still barefooted, and looked down. Orcutt pushed himself to hands and knees, retching painfully.

"What did you do that for?" Teddy asked me. There was no reproach in her voice, only curiosity.

"I felt like it," I said. I didn't say I'd hit him because I'd come damn close to killing him. She wouldn't have understood. I wasn't sure I understood myself.

She giggled. "He looks awfully silly, doesn't he? Poor boy. I heard what he said. I think it's kind of cute, his wanting to protect me, don't you?"

"Yeah, cute," 1 said. "When he catches his breath, clean him up and send him home. I'll call you tomorrow. Good night."

As I drove away, I kept hearing Mac's voice in my head: 1 have seen it happen before in men whose occupation allows them to kill and get away with it. I'd laughed at the time, but now I had to face the fact that twice in one night I'd almost killed a man, quite casually, without even making sure of his identity first. After a while, Mac had said, their judgment becomes impaired, since human life has ceased to have much value for them.

I'd almost killed two men, and I had killed a woman. At least Jean had died, and I was no longer so sure that my hand hadn't slipped, a little. Maybe I'd even wanted it to slip, as Mac had said, subconsciously.

I found a hotel, got a room, and sent the bellboy away with a tip. I opened the suitcase he'd placed on the stand at the foot of the bed and grimaced at the gaudy Petroni apparel inside. I found a silver flask and started towards the bathroom for a glass and said to hell with it. Drinking When I felt lousy had never made me feel any better. I screwed the cap back onto the flask and dropped the flask back into the suitcase. The telephone rang. I picked it up.

"Is this Mr. Peterson?" a female voice asked. "Is this Mr. Peterson, from Chicago?"

"I'm sorry," I said. "I'm from Chicago, but the name is Peters, ma'am. James A. Peters."

"Oh, dear," the voice said. "I'm terribly sorry. I do hope I didn't wake you, or anything."

"It's perfectly all right, ma'am," I said.

I put the instrument back in its cradle. It was code, of course. There were half a dozen names she might have asked for. Peterson meant I was supposed to hunt up a clear phone and call Washington. I didn't ask myself how Mac had known where to reach me. After all, I'd told him I had a date with the Michaelis kid, whose temporary residence was known; and I hadn't made it very hard for anybody who wanted to tail me from there. The only question was, should I call and learn where I stood, or should I be proud and, independent.

I didn't feel very proud and independent. I went down into the lobby and used one of the pay phones.

"Eric here," I said, when I heard the familiar voice on the line.

Mac said, "Yellow Cadillac two-door, male driver."

"It rings no bells."

"It should. He was behind you all the way from the girl's motel, our man says, trying to make up his mind to close in. No armaments in view, but that means nothing."

"No, sir."

"I got your message."

"Yes, sir."

"Independence is a virtue, I'm told, but there are arguments in favor of discipline. We will discuss the matter later."

"Yes, sir."

"I presume what you have in mind could be classified under the heading of atonement. Even assuming that you were at fault, which you have denied, it is a sentimental notion."

"Yes, sir."

"Sentiment is rare in our line of work." His voice was dry. "Well, Jean would have appreciated the romantic gesture. Since you seem to have a lead of sorts and nobody else has, you may as well carry on, if you feel capable- What did you say?"

"Nothing," I said. "Nothing at all, sir."

"What did the little Michaelis girl have to propose?"

"She has hired me to assassinate Mrs. Louis Rosten in a discreet way. Twenty-five hundred down, twenty-five hundred on delivery. I've only collected five C's so far, but I'm getting the rest tomorrow after she's been to the bank."

It silenced him briefly. I'd hoped it might. He asked at last, "What are your plans?"

I said, "I thought the deal was that no questions would be asked."

"That was in another connection. You can't very well-"

"Can't I?" I asked. "How important is this machine of Dr. Michaelis'? The last I heard, the fate of the world hung in the balance."

"But-" I heard him swallow at the other end of the line. He thought I was needling him, but he wasn't quite sure. Well, I wasn't quite sure, either. He called my bluff. "Very well. Use your judgment."

"Thank you, sir, but judgment-wise I'm suffering from fatigue, remember? And a superman complex. Ah, hell." I was being childish. "I want everything anybody's got on Michaelis, Theodora. Orcutt, William. Rosten, Robin. Rosten, Louis. And a schooner named Freya. Oh, and a man named Nick, paid hand on the schooner. Can do?"

"I think we have most of that information. In a minute, I'll switch you to the girl downstairs and she'll read it off for you. Anything else?"

"One thing. There was a New York private detective, name unknown, who came down here to investigate for Miss Michaelis and got scared off."

"He was taken aside by some people with impressive credentials and told to forget it."

"That wasn't too smart," I said. "It would have been better, maybe, to let him keep working and have him send her innocuous reports, or maybe not. This way the little girl's on the warpath. Maybe she'll help us blast something loose."

"Yes. It would be well, however, if the blast damage were confined to a reasonable area. Eric?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Concerning Michaelis, senior. Keep in mind that this is a valuable man. Merely because the orders permit a certain course of action does not imply that course is mandatory. I had some high officials in here this evening-"

I said, "Do they want him shut up or don't they? This isn't the search-and-rescue branch of the U.S. Coast Guard, for God's sake! There's only one chance in a thousand I can even reach the guy, and if I do, 1 may have all of ten seconds to act. Now, do I have the go-ahead or don't I?"

He sighed. "You have it."

I hesitated. "How's Alan, sir?"

"Alan is going to be all right."

"Sure," I said. "Well, give me that office girl and let me find out something about these people. A yellow Cadillac, you say?"

"That's right. Be careful. Report when you can." He paused. "As for that matter of discipline-"

"Sir?"

"It will depend on which of us turns Out to be right, won't it, Eric?" He cleared his throat delicately. "Judgment-wise, I mean."