Shield for Murder

11

Nolan left the District after a seemingly interminable night. He had only two jobs, both larcenies in South Philly, but despite the inaction and the flare-up with the reporter and Odell, he was in a pretty fair mood.

Outside on the sidewalk he met Danny Shuster, a bondsman who also peddled jewelry around the districts.

“You’re the guy I want to see,” he said, and was surprised at his own words. But seeing Danny had made him think of Linda.

“Yeah, what is it?”

“You got a good lady’s watch, something a little extra?”

“Sure, sure,” Danny said. “Come on over to my car.”

They walked down the block to Shuster’s car and climbed into the rear seat. Danny picked up a leather brief case and unzipped it. He lifted out a suede watch case and glanced at Nolan.

“How much do you want to spend?”

“That don’t matter too much.”

Danny looked pleased. “Okay then, my friend, I’m going to show you a bargain you won’t ever see again. It retails for four bills, not a penny less. But you look at it before I tell you what I’ve got to let it go for.”

Nolan opened the case and examined the watch. It was gracefully delicate; tiny stones gleamed about the face. He thought of watching Linda put it on, imagined her smile of excitement.

“How much?” he said.

“Two hundred and thirty-five bucks,” Danny said, watching Nolan’s face carefully. “Honest to God, it’s practically larceny for you to take it at the price.”

“Okay, okay,” Nolan said. He had three hundred dollars of Dave Fiest’s money with him, so he paid off Danny and put the sixty-five dollars change back in his pocket.

“Maybe you’ll be needing a ring one of these days,” Danny said, smiling at him cheerfully.

“Hell, I’m not looking for trouble,” Nolan said, but the idea made him expansive. “When I do I’ll check with you.”

“Okay, kid.”

Nolan walked two blocks to a drugstore and called Linda.

“How about a little celebration tonight?” he said. He was remembering their drive the night before and how right everything had seemed.

“Barny, I’ve got a terrific headache. I’m going right home after the next show.” She spoke quickly, almost, he thought, as if she were reading the words from a script.

His good humor faded. “Well, that’s too bad. How about a drive? That might help your headache?”

“No, I’m just not up to it, Barny.” Again the words tumbled out in an automatic manner.

He got a little angry. “Well, how about letting me drive you home,” he said. “I won’t make the headache worse, I guess.”

She paused for a moment, then said more cheerfully: “That’s nice of you, Barny. I’ll meet you after the next show. All right?”

“Sure, that’s fine.” He was smiling again. “And by the way, I fixed our snooping friend tonight. I don’t think he’ll bother you any more.”

“Mark Brewster? What did you do to him?” Her voice sounded high, breathless.

“Well, what do you care?” he said. “I told him off, but good. Look, kid, don’t worry about it any more. Here’s something to make you happy: I got a surprise for you.”

“For me?”

“Yeah, and you can just stew about it till I get there.” He laughed. “I’ve been told women love surprises.”

“Barny, I’ve got to go now. I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah. Goodbye.”

He sat in the booth for a moment, frowning at his cigar. For some reason the conversation hadn’t been satisfactory, but he was at a loss to understand why. Shrugging, he left the drugstore and walked over to a bar on Locust Street to kill the next two hours.

He ordered a beer and a shot of whisky, his mood tranquil once more. There just wasn’t anything to worry about, he thought. The money was safe with Linda, and there was more under the hub plate of his car. Espizito wasn’t the problem he’d figured he would be, and the newspaper snoop wasn’t going to cause any trouble.

Nolan wondered if Dave Fiest’s body had been claimed, and that thought brought a frown to his face. Why the hell should he care?

For several moments he stared at the collar on his beer, and then, with the curious feeling that he was borrowing trouble, he walked to the telephone booth in the rear of the bar and called the morgue.

“This is Nolan from Sixty-five,” he told the attendant who answered. “I’m winding up a report on Dave Fiest. Who claimed the body?”

“Just a minute.” The attendant was back in less than that time. “His mother claimed it last night. He’s on his way back to Idaho with her now, I guess.”

“Idaho,” Nolan said. “That’s a hell of a place for Fiest to come from.”

“Well, that’s where his mother lives. She flew in after we notified the cops out there.”

“She flew in all the way from Idaho, eh?” Nolan didn’t understand why this struck him as amazing. “What sort of woman was his mother?”

“Just a woman, I guess. Oldish, about sixty, I’d say.”

“Did she know he was a gambler?”

“How the hell would I know that? Look, Nolan, I got a lot of work here tonight. We got two unidentified from the river and they’re a mess.”

“You answer my questions,” Nolan said, suddenly furious. “You should have found out if his old lady knew he was a gambler.” He was perspiring in the close booth, and all his instincts told him he was behaving ridiculously.

The attendant’s voice was aggrieved. “Well, lemme think. Yeah, I remember she said something about it, now. She said that was his trouble, that he was always trying to outsmart people. Even at home.”

“She did, eh? She said he was always trying to outsmart people, eh?” Nolan repeated the phrase with satisfaction.

“Yeah, something like that. Say, what the hell do you care one way or the other, Nolan?”

“I don’t,” Nolan said. “You understand, I don’t.”

“Well, anything else?”

“No, that’s all.” He hung up and returned to the bar. He didn’t know why he was thinking about Dave Fiest. He had never thought about any of the other people he had killed. Why should Dave Fiest be different? It was odd.

Nolan drank his cold beer gratefully and thought of Dave Fiest with his smart clothes and suede shoes, riding in a cold and lonely box across the plains of the Middle West. He could imagine the insides of the baggage car, the bored and sleepy guards, and the wail of the whistle as the train passed through tiny towns in the night. Smiling, he finished his beer. That’s what happened to smart guys, he thought, and nodded to the bartender for another drink.

Linda came into the circular bar at the Simba promptly at three. She seemed tired and nervous. They didn’t say very much to each other until they were in the car.

Then he said: “Head still bothering you?”

“Yes, it’s like nothing human.”

“Maybe some food would help. How about it? A good steak, a couple of drinks? That might do the trick.”

“No, I’m sorry, Barny. I’d like to go right home.”

“Okay,” he said, disappointed.

They drove the short distance to her apartment in silence and when he pulled up to a stop she opened the door on her side almost before the car stopped moving.

“Hey, wait a minute,” he said. “You forgot about the surprise.”

“Barny, couldn’t it wait until I feel better?”

“Hell, kid, it won’t take a minute,” he said. He took her slim arm and she slid back onto the seat. “You’re shaking like a leaf,” he said, concerned. “You’re coming down with a bad cold, I’ll bet.”

“Maybe that’s it.”

He took the watch case from his pocket and dropped it into her lap. “That won’t help a cold, but it won’t hurt it either,” he said, smiling. “Go ahead, open it. It’s for you.”

She opened the case and removed the watch with gentle fingers. “It’s very lovely,” she said, after a moment.

“Put it on. Here, let me help you.”

“No, Barny, I couldn’t accept it,” she said quickly. “Please understand. It... it’s just too lovely.”

“I thought you’d like it,” Nolan said tiredly. He couldn’t understand her, and he was baffled and annoyed. “I thought you’d like a pretty watch.”

“It was nice of you to think of me, Barny, but I can’t take it.”

She put it back in the case and placed the case between them on the seat. “I have to go in now.” She smiled faintly. “I’ve spoiled your surprise, haven’t I?”

That made him feel better. “Don’t worry about it,” he said. “If you can’t take it, you can’t take it. How about tomorrow afternoon? It’s my day off, and we could take a drive.”

She smiled at him and slipped out of the car. “Call me and we’ll see how I feel,” she said. “Good night, Barny.”

“Good night.”

Nolan picked up the watch from the seat, frowned at it for an instant and then dropped it into his outside pocket. He started the car and drove slowly down the street, vaguely worried and anxious. Turning right at the first intersection, he made two more rights which brought him back onto Linda’s street. There was a parking space about twenty yards from her apartment and he nosed into it and cut off the lights and motor.

He wasn’t sure why he had come back; but Linda had behaved oddly and he was upset and bewildered. Anyway, he had nowhere else to go and it was less lonely here than it would be at a bar.

Lighting a cigar he settled down behind the wheel and thought about his telephone conversation with her earlier tonight, and then this brief meeting. Something was bothering her, he knew. He wasn’t angry; he was puzzled. And he sat smoking in the dark and watching the lights in her front windows...

Twenty minutes later a cab pulled up before her doorway. Nolan straightened up as a tall young man got out, paid off the driver, and went quickly up the steps of her apartment.

Nolan rolled the cigar around his lips and one of his big hands tightened on the steering wheel until the knuckles whitened.

It was Mark Brewster who had gone into her apartment. Nolan settled back again, sighed heavily and watched the fight in her windows with cold shining eyes.