Stop This Man! (11 page)

Larry noticed the look on the Turtle’s face.

“Now you hurt his feelings, Jackie. You hurt his feelings and cast aspersions and disparagement—get those words, Turtle—on his professional standing. Tell him, Turtle.”

“He won’t believe me.” The Turtle looked stony.

“So I’ll tell him.”

“Never mind, I’ll tell him,” said the Turtle. “I was returning the wallet, I was.”

“You dumfound me, Turtle,” Herron said.

“Well, if you don’t mind—”

“No, you don’t.” Larry grabbed for the arm again. “First you buy us a drink, ha?”

“No, I’d rather not. In fact—”

“Perhaps you’re broke, Turtle?”

“Larry! Are you disparaging my finances?”

“God forbid, Turtle. I wouldn’t do such a thing. So come along, one and all. The Turtle is going to quench us.”

“Naw, I don’t think your friend here—”

“Turtle,” said Larry, “let’s not try stalling men like me and Jackie. You owe us a drink, don’t you? Listen to me, Turtle, I’m now speaking with a significant voice: You owe us a drink, don’t you? Because you owe your success to us, don’t you?”

“What in hell you talking about, Mr. Met—ah, Larry?”

“Come on, Turtle. Don’t tell me you gave Topper back a full wallet?”

“All right, dumfound you, I’ll buy you guys a drink, and I hope you get aspersions from it.”

Topper watched the three men from afar. When they sat down at the bar, he patted his breast pocket again. The wallet was there, plump as ever. If that little runt was a dip, even if he was a friend of Catell’s—Topper didn’t like any of the three men at the bar. Larry was a snooping nut, and with enough stuff behind him to be a real danger. That Herron character somehow didn’t sit right, either. One of those characters you couldn’t place. And the Turtle, a friend of that slime Catell—

Topper put his hand in his pocket and pulled out his alligator billfold. It was so stuffed that the flaps opened up in his hand.

Suddenly Topper’s eyes got droopy, the way they had done when he had tangled with Catell in the machine shop. His color got darker, and his neck swelled out. Topper opened the billfold all the way. Folded inside there was a pink napkin.

When Topper got to the bar, only Herron and Larry were sitting together.

“Where’s your friend, Larry?” Topper sounded smooth and unruffled.

“My who? Topper, you hit a sensitive spot there. I have no friends.”

“That other guy, the runt. Where is he?”

“What I mean is, no
real
friends, Topper. You were saying?”

But Topper had turned and gone. He went around a corner to get to Catell’s table. It was empty.

Back at the bar, Topper used the house phone, giving instructions.

“Oh, Topper, you looking for the Turtle?” Larry was leaning over the bar, waving an arm.

“Yeah. Your friend.”

“He left, Topper. He left after buying us two of your most expensive drinks. Tell me, Topper, why do you charge—” but Topper had turned and gone again.

“Not very friendly,” Herron said.

“This is nothing. Sometime you should introduce yourself as the cop you are, Jackie, if you want to study the ultimate extent of true unfriendliness.”

Meanwhile Topper was walking down a service corridor. He was licking his lips and there was a mean wrinkle down the middle of his forehead. Footsteps sounded and one of his boys came around a bend.

“Well, where is he?” Topper said.

“Not a trace, Topper. I swear we looked everywhere. I think he musta—”

“Don’t think, damn it. Find that dip. Find him, I don’t care where, and bring him back. Alive. Just so he’s still alive. Now beat it.”

“Yes, sir. Another thing, the car’s ready out back. That is, if you still want it,”

“Yeah, yeah, I want it. I’m getting Lily now. Have Rudy drive her home.”

“O.K., Boss.”

Topper walked up to a door that had a paper star glued to it and started to open it when he heard voices.

“Of course I remember you.” It was Lily’s voice.

Topper stopped, stiff.

“I’m glad,” Catell’s voice said.

Silence. Then: “And I remember you, it goes without saying.”

“Is that why you came back?”

“You might say that. I came back for more.”

“Of the same?” Lily’s voice sounded amused. “Don’t kid yourself. I mean that you and me—” “It’s no good, Tony. This’ll only mean trouble.” “Listen, kid. Maybe you’re too young to know, though I doubt it, but it’s worth the trouble.”

“I don’t know. I think you’d better go, anyway.”

Catell couldn’t make her out. Was she interested, was she just playing, or was she afraid? It could also be, with her wide-eyed face always looking a little vague, that Lily didn’t have any feelings about this thing, one way or the other. Catell wondered how she’d look when she was excited. She must get that way sometimes.

“Leave the worrying to me, Lily. I got plans in this town, and one of the biggest of them is you. Lily, I’m not just playing around. I’m not just…” Catell’s voice halted, getting nowhere. In the silence, he heard the door open. He spun around.

Topper walked in. “Go on,
Tony.
I might as well hear the rest. For that matter, you might as well finish what you had to say while you can.” Topper had an easy smile on his face.

Lily blinked her eyes but there was no clear emotion on her face. Catell stood wide-legged, his face turning to sharp stone.

“Let’s have it out right here and now,” Catell said. “I didn’t come here to get in your way. I came here after Lily, and no matter what gets in my way, I mean to have her. And I’d just as soon kill you, Topper, you and anybody else who gets in my way. I’m not trying to beat your time, either with Lily or with your boss. I just want what I want, and I’m going to get it, and I don’t go for the kind of gaff that punks like you hand out.”

Catell’s voice had stayed on an even pitch, but he felt a
harsh excitement and a powerful certainty surge through him as he stood tensed, hands curled at his sides, his sharp face very still.

Topper gave the only answer he knew how to give. He reached for his gun. Before he had it out, Catell grabbed Lily’s arm and swung her in front of him.

“Catell,” Topper said, “how yellow can you get?”

Catell didn’t answer.

“Catell, I’d just as soon shoot right through this dame to get you.”

“Baby!” Lily’s voice made a sound of surprise.

“Shut up! You think you’re special? You think I wouldn’t just as soon kick you over?”

Lily started to moan, but it wasn’t so much because of Topper’s words. Catell’s hands, holding the girl in front of him, had dug into her arms like claws.

“Make him move, Lily.” Topper stepped closer. “Make him move. Kick back.”

But she didn’t. She stood still, facing Topper and his gun. Then her head sank down and her knees bent.

“Drop her, Catell. Drop her or I shoot the both of you.” Topper took another step forward.

But Catell didn’t move. He knew that Lily hadn’t fainted. He could feel the muscles in her arms tense under his hands. Then she kicked her foot, hard and swift.

It caught Topper square in the groin. He buckled slowly, his eyes rolling blindly in their sockets and his red mouth puckered. When Topper hit the floor, Catell let go of Lily’s arms and reached down for the gun. Then he straightened up and took Lily around the waist.

“Thanks, baby,” he said.

When he leaned over to kiss her cheek, she drew back
and hit him in the face. She didn’t slap him; she hit him hard with a closed fist.

“For chrissakes! What in hell was that for?”

But Lily wasn’t listening. She stood by the wall, her hands over her face, crying in a concentrated way. Catell shrugged and turned back to Topper.

“Can you hear me, punk?”

Topper opened his eyes and his face relaxed a little.

“Listen close, Topper. You touch Lily for this and I’ll get you for it. I’ll get you for it so you die in the end, but way in the end. And it’s going to take time, Topper. You listening?” Catell grabbed the man’s lapels and jerked.

“Stop it, stop it, you!” Lily, hands over her cheeks, stood by the wall, screaming.

“Lily!” Catell got to his feet. “What is it with you?”

“Stop it now, for God’s sake stop it, you two!”

“You in love with this crud? What’s—”

“I want you to stop this. I don’t care what you do, but please, no more, please,” and she ended with a sobbing mumble behind her hands.

Topper got to his feet slowly. He looked at Catell with a poisonous hate in his eyes, and there was slobber on his wet lips.

“Catell—”

“Shut up. You heard what I said?”

Topper didn’t say anything, just looked.

“And another thing, Topper. Remember you and me are on the same team. I don’t think
Mr.
Smith is going to like you very much if anything happens to me now. So keep your distance, Topper. Just another few days and I’ll be blowing town. After that, anything you want to throw my way, throw it. And when it comes back at you, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Catell put Topper’s gun in his pocket and walked to the door.

“I’ll be seeing you, Lily,” he said. She didn’t look up. He shut the door behind him.

He stopped for a moment to light a cigarette. There was movement in the room, feet shuffling. Catell could hear a dull smacking on flesh and Lily moaning. Then Catell walked on down the corridor and left.

“Jackie, this dullness dulls me. Let’s you and me climb off these stools and go someplace else.” Larry pushed his glass back and made ready to go.

“Why not hang around here, Larry? I might get to like it here.” Herron kept watching Miss Rosemary move around.

“Come on, Jackie, up. I got to make the rounds yet. It’s my bread and butter, and this place is a dud.”

They got up and left because there was nothing going on at the Pink Shell.

The tension was greater in Catell than he had ever felt it before. He stood at the open window of the Turtle’s room, staring through the yellow smog where the sun was coming up. He didn’t remember sleeping last night, just jumping up several times, fully awake. The Turtle hadn’t come yet.

Catell didn’t worry about the way he felt. He didn’t think about the why, the how, or any of those things when it came to the state he was in. He didn’t worry about the way Lily might feel, either. For all he knew, she hated his guts. For all he knew, she’d been doing daisy chains since she was ten. He didn’t give a damn. He wanted Lily now, without question and without thought of consequence.

He put on his jacket. When his right hand came through the armhole he winced at the strange feeling in his hand The sharp pain of yesterday had gone, but there was an unpleasant dull pressure around the old cut. Catell looked at it and wondered at the pulpy, dry hole in his skin.

According to the old janitor at the Pink Shell, Lily lived in an apartment in Westwood. Catell took the bus down Wilshire, got out at the Village, and walked the rest of the way. He didn’t remember ever feeling like this before, except perhaps that first time he ever did anything big. He had been fifteen and Joe Lenkovitch had promised him fifty bucks. Just jump in the car, drive it to the garage under the store where Lenkovitch had a paint shop, and collect the fifty bucks. When he’d first started the motor
of the stolen car, he’d felt excited, crazy. The feeling stayed with him all the time he drove through town, wound around dark streets, and then pulled down the drive into the basement garage. He was so hopped up when he delivered it that he walked out without even asking Lenny for the fifty bucks.

There was a short hill up to the apartment house where Lily lived, and Catell felt winded when he reached the building. He was still breathing hard when she opened the door.

“I came to see you, Lily,” he said.

She stood by the door with that open look on her face, showing nothing one way or the other. But Catell wasn’t studying her face. She was standing in front of the light that came through the large glass doors of the sun porch, and there was nothing vague about the rest of her. Her shorts just reached the curve of her thighs. She was wearing a man’s white shirt, the tails tied in a knot at her midriff, the folds of the material stretching up and over her breasts. When she finally moved, Catell saw she was naked under the shirt.

“I don’t think you should come in, Tony,” she said.

“Try and stop me.”

“Tony, it isn’t safe. I don’t think—” Catell put his hand on the doorknob and slammed the door open. Then he stepped inside and pushed the door closed behind him. The spring lock clicked.

“Tony, he has a key. Topper has a key.”

Catell ran his hands up and down Lily’s arms, stroking gently.

“I hurt you last night?”

“A little.”

“I’ll make it up to you, Lily.”

She didn’t answer him, standing still under his moving hands. There was a short distance between them, just enough so he could not feel the touch of her breath. She stood quietly, only moving her tongue once, to moisten her parted lips. She breathed more deeply, never moving. Then Catell stepped back; his voice sounded squeezed when he said, “Like the first time, Lily. Go ahead.”

She unbuttoned the front of the shirt, untied the knot. The thing fell to the floor. When she reached around to pull the zipper on the side of her shorts, Catell watched how her arm pushed the breasts together.

Then Lily was naked.

Catell curled his fingernails into his palms, trying to kill the tingling. One more second, he thought, one more second. Just reach out there, and then…Now there was a smile on Lily’s face. Clearly, no question about Lily any more.

Her eyes widened, staring, and she moved as if to hide herself. Catell reached forward, lunging, and the world jarred with a screeching, searing flame of red that weaved, burst, and then sank sharply into itself, leaving nothing but a total dead black.

“I don’t like this, Topper. I think you’re making a mistake.”

“I’m not asking you to think. Just drive this car and shut up.”

“Boss, listen, I ain’t never butted into your business before, but—”

“So don’t start now, Nick. I’m warning you to shut up.”

Nick didn’t say any more. He concentrated on driving the car through the Santa Monica traffic, but he didn’t feel right about the whole thing. With a slight twist he could see Topper’s face in the rear-view mirror and the
sight made his skin crawl. The face was pale, showing the red lips like raw flesh, and two ugly lines curved around the corners of the mouth. Nick couldn’t make out Topper’s eyes. They were closed, mostly, with only a wet glitter showing through the lashes.

When the car reached the end of Wilshire, Nick turned right on Ocean Drive. The sharp turn threw Topper to the left so that his head moved out of line with the mirror. Then Nick saw Catell lurch into his line of vision. Only the top of his head showed, sticky with blood.

The car straightened out and shot north. Topper pushed Catell back into the other corner of the seat by jabbing his knuckles painfully into Catell’s ribs. Catell didn’t seem to notice. He was still out.

“Reach me a light, Nick.”

Topper took the car lighter and put it to his cigarette. When he was through the thing was still red, and slowly Topper pushed it into the limp man’s neck. At first there was no reaction from Catell, but suddenly he started to twitch and a dry snore rattled out of his slack mouth. He didn’t wake up, though.

“Take the light, Nick.”

They drove in silence for a while.

“Lend me one of your fags, Topper?”

“When you gonna start carrying your own? Here.”

“Thanks.” After a deep drag Nick said, “Still going through with it?”

“Sure. Why?”

“Just asking.”

“Let’s have that pack.” Nick handed it back. “And the light.”

Topper lit his cigarette and gave the lighter back to Nick. A hot sun beat down on the highway, making the
inside of the car like a steam bath. The windows stayed closed. Nick pulled his tie open by yanking the shirt collar away from his wet neck, but he didn’t open the window. Topper didn’t like to smoke with the wind blowing in his face.

After a while, Topper asked for the lighter again. He didn’t like to light one cigarette from another.

“Boss.”

“What?”

“Boss, listen. You nervous?”

“What’s eating you, damnit? Spill it and shut up.”

“Topper, now don’t blow your top, but this is all wrong. You can’t afford it, Topper, I know.”

“Nick, what do I have to do to shut you up, damn it? Stop riding me or I’ll—”

“Yeah, I know, Topper. You can do all kinds of things. But there’s one thing you can’t do, and I’m going to say it anyway. You can’t buck Smith. If you rub out Catell, you’re bucking Smith.”

“Shut your crazy mouth and drive.”

“Smith is counting on Catell for the job. If he finds out—and he will, you know—”

“To hell with Smith. To hell with your crazy talk, you stinking sonofabitch. Just do what I tell you.”

Catell woke up with a sharp painful start, the light of the sun and the thick cigarette smoke stinging his eyes, his head a big bursting throb that jangled his senses at the slightest move. Topper sat next to him, a gun in his hand.

When the car turned into a dirt road Catell was just starting to think clearly. When the car bumped to a halt, hidden by the walls of a quarry, Catell knew for sure.

This was it.

“When you step out, Catell, don’t stumble or anything. I’m right behind you.” Topper jabbed the gun into Catell’s ribs.

All three of them stood in the empty quarry, in the hot dust, looking at each other. The bright light made the shadows on their faces black and sharp, giving all of them the same expression. They stood without talking. The man who had driven the car started to push a stone around with his foot, not looking at anybody. Catell licked his dry lips, his brain a useless mess of pain, fear, and hate.

Then Topper started to smile. He held it so long that Catell thought time had stood still, or perhaps he was going out of his mind.

“Walk to the wall, Catell.”

Catell walked. If Topper had told him to stumble, to hop on one leg, anything, he would have done it. He wasn’t in a trance any more. His pain-sharpened senses raced for a clue, a sign, a hope, scanning the scene for that inevitable last chance.

“Stop.”

Catell stopped.

“Turn around.”

With his back to the baked wall of the quarry, Catell looked the way he had come. It wasn’t very far. Topper stood with his gun in his hand. Then he raised the gun and took a careful stance and a slow aim.

“Hey, Catell, here it comes!”

Catell wished he had never come out of that trance. Even the harsh pain in his head no longer distracted him from the clear, real thing before him.

“Here it comes, Catell!” and the shot whipped out.

Spraying sand stung the back of Catell’s neck before the true panic of the situation hit him. He wanted to
scream, but there was no air in his lungs. He wanted to move, but his muscles were like glass, hard, near breaking.

“Guess I missed that time, eh, Catell?”

Never having finished—or even started—the scream of fear that choked him, that pushed his eyeballs from behind, he stiffened again when the gun moved up.

Again Topper shot.

“Seems I’m not doing so good, Catell, ha?”

The gun went down and Catell saw Topper change his stance. Time. Time to scream, to unwind, to melt like jelly in the heat. But nothing like that happened. The grip on Catell’s control was frozen like ice. And then he began to tremble. The trembling hurt his head, his muscles, above all his head, but there was nothing to be done about it.

Topper laughed and shot again. The bullet hit close before Catell’s feet. The trembling turned into a jagged, spastic horror of uncontrolled jerks, more intense each time a shot rang out.

Then there were no more shots.

“Catell, you can stop dancing. Hey, Nick, look at him. Christ! Hey, Catell, you can stop now. Take a rest while I load this gun. Catell, hey, look. Catell, I’m ready!

But Catell didn’t respond. As his trembling died down his eyes became dull, and he stood, mouth open, breathing hard and deep.

“Come here, Catell. Come here!”

When Topper came up, cursing, Catell had gained a strange sense of detachment. He saw everything, he felt everything, but it didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was that Topper was still around, and that the time would come when Topper would be at the other end. Topper was just playing. There wasn’t going to be any
end yet. There was going to be time for Topper at the other end, because right now Topper was just playing.

The fist crashed into Catell’s neck, making him fall to the ground. He could hear Nick’s voice: “Don’t muss him up, Topper. Remember about Smith.” Catell knew he was getting a beating, but it didn’t matter to him any more.

Later he woke on the beach, cold and sore, and the moon was up. He remembered everything, but it didn’t really get to him. When he got back to the Turtle’s room, he still felt the same about it: Topper had shot his bolt. Next it was going to be Catell’s turn.