Lady, Here's Your Wreath (12 page)

     Mardi said: “I believe I can help you. There are a lot of things I couldn't understand which now I think I could fit into the puzzle.”
     “Suppose we look at it from this angle ” I began.
     She smiled at me. “Could it wait until to-morrow?” she asked. “I'm so tired. Look at the time. I feel as if I shall go to sleep right here in this chair.”
     I got up quickly. “Sure,” I said. “I guess I'm over-anxious. You get some sleep.. We can talk over what you're goin' to do and all about this business to-morrow.”
     She got out of the chair slowly and stretched. Standing there in front of the electric stove, the strong reflection of the elements outlining her legs through her dress, her grand little head back, and her arms raised a little, she looked good. I wanted to put my arms round her. It was tough going not to start anything.
     I said: “Through there is the bedroom. You go ahead. You get some sleep.”
     She said sleepily: “Can I borrow things from you?”
     I went ahead of her and fished out a pair of my pyjamas and my dressing-gown. I tossed them on the bed.
     She came in and stood watching me. “It's nice of you,” she said, “giving up your bed. Do you mind an awful lot?”
     I didn't move. I just didn't trust myself. “No, I don't mind,” I said.
     The sudden unevenness in my voice made her look at me quickly. “I'm sorry I can't do what some girls would do,” she said steadily. “Not because I think it's wrong, but because I think it's too soon.”
     I went over to her and stood very close. “You're swell,” I said, “I don't want that. I just want you to know I'm crazy about you. I want to help you and do things for you.”
     She put her hand on my arm. “Thank you.”
     I gave a grin and walked out, shutting the door behind me.
     The fat guy and Gus were sitting under the lamp waiting for me. The fat guy held an automatic directed at my belly. He said: “Reach up, lug, grab a handful of heaven.”
     

     
     THOSE TWO GUYS got me rattled for the moment. I leant against the door and put my hands up. There was a vicious look in the fat guy's eyes that I didn't like. I guessed he was feeling mighty sore with me.
     Did he know Mardi was right behind me? Was he after her or was he just going to settle things up with me?
     I said softly: “How's your noggin, Gus? You birds want a lot of shakin', don't you?”
     The fat guy waved the gun at me. “Come away from the door, lug, we want the dame. Come on... I ain't goin' to ask twice.”
     I yelled: “Mardi, lock the door quick... trouble's arrived.”
     Gus sprang towards me with a curse. He came at me from the side so that his body didn't get in the line of the fat guy's gun. I wedged myself against the door and let him come.
     The fat guy said: “Get him away... if he starts anything, I'll drill him.”
     Gus gripped my arm and tried to swing me from the door. I was too heavy for him and just for a second he came off balance. I jerked my arm a little, and he fell forward, right in the line of fire. I clutched him to me like he was my long-lost brother and lammed a couple of short ones to his belly. My heel thudded against the door and I yelled again: “Lock up, quick.”
     The two punches I had shot into Gus held him for a second and then he caught me with a swinger on the jaw. It was a nice punch and it sent me over. I took him with me and we went down in a heap on the floor.
     The fat guy came forward and rammed the barrel of his rod into my neck. “Take it easy,” he said softly, “this gun don't make much noise.”
     The cold barrel digging into me cooled me off quick. I let go of Gus, who scrambled to his feet. The fat guy said: “I don't want to rub you out, but I'll do it all right if you ask for it.”
     I met his eyes. This guy meant everything he said.
     “I'll be good,” I said.
     The barrel of the gun looked like a cannon to me.
     Gus said: “Watch him... he's slippery.”
     The fat guy shook his head. “He'll be all right now, you see.”
     I sat on the floor hoping that Mardi would start yelling out of the window. I didn't hear a sound, and my heart sank.
     “Come on, get up,” the fat guy said, digging the gun into me again.
     I got to my feet.
     “If you think you're goin' to start anything, I should forget it. This rod's got a light trigger.”
     I guess that guy would think nothing of touching his gun off, so I just stood.
     Gus came round the back of me and jerked my arms behind me. For a moment I stiffened my muscles, but the gun kept digging into me. I thought maybe I'd be more useful to Mardi alive than dead, so I let him rope me.
     I tried the dodge of expanding my arm muscles, so that I could have a little slack when the time came, but Gus knew all about roping, and when he put the pressure on I called him some fancy names.
     They stood back and looked at me.
     Gus said to the fat guy: “We gotta get goin'.” He went over to Mardi's door and turned the handle. The door was locked. I knew that door would want some opening. They could only do that by making a hell of a noise.
     I said: “Skip it, you two guys, can't you leave us alone? You ain't getting in there without callin' out the riot squad, so why not turn it in?”
     The fat guy gave a little chuckle. When he laughed he certainly looked mean. “This is easy,” he said. “We'll get her out quick an' quiet.'
     He went to the door and pushed Gus on one side. He put his bullet-head against the panels. “Come on out, sister,” he said, speaking in his hoarse, croaking voice. “We want you out in ten seconds or we start on your boy friend.”
     I yelled: “To hell with them, Mardi! You stay where you are. Yell out of the window...!”
     Gus hit me across the mouth with the back of his hand. His bony knuckle cut my lip and I staggered across the room, getting my balance.
     The fat guy knocked on the door again. “Wait a minute, sister,” he called. “Don't you start anythin' until I'm through. Then you can make up your mind. I know you're in there, so you don't have to be cagy. You can hear me okay?”
     “I can hear you.” Mardi's voice was pretty steady.
     “If you don't come out right now, I'm going to get tough with your boy friend. When I say tough, I mean tough, get it? I'll give you ten seconds, an' if you ain't out by then I'm goin' to give him the works.”
     I dodged Gus's rush and yelled, “It's a bluff... yell out of the window... don't open——”
     Again Gus's fist smashed into my face and this time I went over. I was quick enough to jerk my head away from the kick he aimed at me.
     Mardi opened the door and came out.
     The fat guy and Gus stood motionless staring at her. I saw Gus's eyes open and he pursed his mouth.
     She stood framed in the doorway, one hand hanging by her side and the other holding the door handle. Her face was pale and her eyes were wide, but she held her head up and she wasn't looking scared.
     “What do you want?” she said, her voice steady and cold.
     I felt mighty proud of the way she faced up to these two thugs. The fat guy came forward, his face beaming, but his eyes very mean.
     “Well! Well! Ain't she a peach?” he said, standing in front of her. 'We're all goin' for a little ride. Get your wrap, will you? An' make it fast.”
     I struggled to my feet. “Listen,” I said, keeping an eye on Gus, who was beginning to sidle towards me, “you won't get anywhere on a gag like this. Drop it, will you?”
     The fat guy glanced at Gus. “If that punk opens his trap any more, shut it for him and shut it for good.”
     Gus drew a rubber truncheon from his back pocket. He balanced it thoughtfully in his hand. “Sure,” he said, and grinned.
     Mardi came over to me, but the fat guy stepped between us. “We don't want to get tough,” he said, “but we will if you don't behave.”
     She looked at me and I gave her a pale grin. I was feeling bad about all this. Then she squared her shoulders and picked up her wrap.
     The fat guy stepped to her side. “That's fine,” he said. “Now we go downstairs, if you start anythin', Gus'll wash up the punk. Hear that, Gus?”
     Gus said, “Sure.” He threw my overcoat cape-wise over my shoulders and jerked his head. We all went out into the corridor and went silently down into the street. There was a big closed car standing outside the house. The streets were deserted and the pale dawn was coming up over the roofs. It would be over an hour before any one would be around on the streets.
     Gus shoved me in the back of the car and the fat guy got in next. Mardi followed. We three sat in a row. Gus went to the front and climbed under the wheel. He switched on the ignition and engaged the gears. The car shot away from the kerb at a high speed.
     The fat guy said to Mardi: “You ain't got to get scared. I'd be sortta soft with a honey like you if you were nice.”
     “Listen, greaseball,” I put in. “Suppose you skip your stuff. It gives me a pain.”
     His face suddenly set. “I'm getting mighty tired of you,” he said. “You're goin' to run into plenty of grief before long.”
     I wondered what chance I had if I jumped him. I thought I could sock him in his puss with my two hands and while he was getting his breath I might do some more damage.
     He was no fool. I guess he saw I was getting ready to start something, so he dug his gun into me. “Pipe down,” he said curtly.
     The big car flashed through the empty streets with hardly a roll. In the faint light from the dashboard I could make out the outline of Gus's head. He kept his eyes on the road and drove hard.
     “Where the hell do you think you're takin' us?” I asked for something to say.
     The fat guy said, “Did you hear that, Gus? He wants to know where we're goin'.”
     Gus shrugged, but didn't say anything.
     I wanted to keep the fat guy's mind off Mardi, so I kept talking. “What's your name?” I asked. “I get kind of embarrassed callin you 'greaseball'.”
     He turned a little. I could see he was getting mad. “You won't get anywhere with that stuff,” he said evenly. “Suppose you keep your trap shut; I'm gettin' tired of hearing your yappin'.”
     Mardi hadn't said a word the whole time. I couldn't see much of her, and when I leant forward the fat guy gave me a hard one in the chest with his elbow.
     I thought when the time came for a show-down, I was certainly going to give this punk the works.
     I suddenly recognised the sound of a ship's siren. So we were going back to Wensdy Wharf again. Sure enough, in a few minutes, the car turned into the wharf and pulled up outside the same house.
     Gus got out first and opened the door. “Come on out,” he said to Mardi.
     She stepped out and he pushed her into the house. The fat guy followed, jerking me with him. We all silently trooped upstairs into the room where Blondie had been kept prisoner.
     “Home again,” I said, leaning against the wall. I had been testing the ropes round my wrists and arms during the drive, but I could get nowhere with them. They were on for good.
     Gus shoved me into a chair.
     The fat guy went outside, and I heard him go into another room. I heard him say something, then a deep voice answered him. I saw Mardi start a little and she looked rather wildly at me. She said something with her lips, but I couldn't get it.
     Then the door opened again and a tall, heavily built man came in, followed closely by the fat guy.
     He stood and looked at Mardi, then he said, “I'm sorry about this, but you're rather in the way.” The way he said it made me suddenly feel cold. He was so casual and calm, but there was a definite threat in his words.
     He certainly scared Mardi. She took a step back. “But, Mr. Spencer...” she began and stopped.
     So this was Lu Spencer. I looked at him closely. There was nothing very grand about this guy. He was running a little to fat and he was getting thick in the middle. His coal-black moustache and his white hair made odd contrasts. He looked like he had dyed his moustache. His eyes dropped a little, as if he were very tired, but the light in them belied any sign of fatigue.
     He selected a cigar from a pigskin case and put it between his teeth. “Give the lady a chair,” he said to Gus.
     When Mardi had sat down, her hands twisting a little in her lap, he glanced over at me.
     “So you're Mason,” he said, moving over to get a good look at me.
     “Yeah,” I said. “If this is your idea of a good gag, I don't think much of it. Suppose you cut this movie stuff out right now.”
     He went over and sat on the edge of the table. “It's time we had a little chat,” he said, tipping the ash off his cigar with his finger. “I'm cautious, Mason, always have been. When I think trouble's coming my way, I act quick. I don't wait for trouble to get going, I meet it before it starts and I stop it starting.”
     I shrugged. “Where do I find that little fable?”
     “You've been warned off before, but it seems like you won't learn. I've decided to stop you putting your oar in.”
     Boy! Would I like to have my hands free so that I could have socked that guy one? “Ain't you barkin' up the wrong alley?”
     “I'm going to be frank with you,” he went on. “It would be very inconvenient to have a further investigation in the Richmond murder. I've got the business to think of and, as I say, it would be inconvenient. You've been offered big money to start trouble, haven't you?”
     I looked at him thoughtfully. Then I said: “Maybe your pal Katz has told you my angle.”
     Spencer nodded. “Yes,” he said, “I know about that.”
     “All right,” I said. “Now I had decided to leave the business alone. What's one cheap crook among so many? I didn't have to grieve about Vessi. I was bein' offered ten grand. That ain't such a lot of dough. So I decided to leave it alone. Then, when you started trouble for Miss Jackson, I just had to come into it again.”
     Spencer glanced at Mardi and then back at me. His eyebrows went up a little, and he pursed his mouth. “So that's how it sits, huh?”
     “If you mean that I ain't sitting still when you start pushing a nice girl around, you're right,” I said.
     “No more than that?”
     I wanted to belt that guy in the puss very badly indeed. I didn't say anything.
     He chewed his cigar thoughtfully. “You've got me in a spot, Mason,” he said at last. “You and this young woman here could be a nuisance. Between you both you might start trouble which might upset my plans. If we can't come to terms, I'm afraid you two are in for a bad time.”
     His voice was very casual, but I didn't like his tone. I glanced across at Mardi and she wasn't looking too grand.
     “Suppose you put your cards on the table,” I invited.
     He looked over at Gus. “Clear out, you two,” he said. “I'll call you if I want you.”
     When they had gone he began to pace up and down the room. I could see he had a lot on his mind.
     “Look,” he said at last, “I've got to find out who's at the bottom of all this. Who's willing to pay you ten grand to make things awkward for me.”
     I bet he'd like to know that, but he wasn't getting any help from me. I had already made up my mind that I was going to look into that also.
     I shrugged. “You can search me,” I said. “I've been asking myself the same question.”
     He came over and stood close to me. “I've got a hunch that you know something that would give me the key to this. I'm going to ask you to come clean.”
     As I began to speak he held up his hand. “Don't be in a hurry,” he said; “Think first. If you can't remember, I'm going to jog your memory.”
     I said, “I've told you I got a note which was typewritten. I've no more idea than the dead who it could be.”
     He said, “Would it be a man or a woman?”
     I shook my head. “I tell you I can't help you.”
     He stood looking at me, his face slightly flushed. “That's a pity,” he said. He walked over to the door and jerked it open. “Gus, come in here.”
     The thin dope shuffled in and stood waiting. His little eyes restlessly wandered from my face up to the ceiling and back again.
     Spencer said, “I think this guy knows something. At the moment he won't talk. Suppose you strip our friend here... maybe he'll get inspiration that way.”
     Mardi started to her feet. Her face had gone very white. Gus stepped over to her, and as she turned to run he grabbed her and twisted her round. One of his hands held her wrists.
     Spencer looked over at me. “Well,” he said, “you can make your mind up. Gus has done this sort of thing before.”