Stop This Man! (14 page)

When Catell woke in the morning, he remembered the way the night had started. He turned, leaning on his elbow. Lily was asleep there, her naked back a breathing curve. Catell remembered the rest of the night and felt better.

For the next five days they lived together, seeing no one, needing no one.

“I’ve never had it like this,” he said. “Never in my life.”

“Me neither,” she said.

“That’s because you’re so young,” he answered.

They ate out of cans, and Catell boiled coffee. Lily didn’t know how to cook.

After two days they left the apartment and drove to Santa Barbara. During the day they lay on the beach; at night they stayed in a motel near the pier. It had two tiny rooms, fixed up like a home. Lying in bed at night, they could hear the surf; if they sat up they could see the slow roll of the breakers on the long, empty beach. The little ruffled curtains would move in the breeze.

“Let’s play house,” Lily said.

“We can’t. You don’t know how to cook.”

“You hungry?”

“Nope.”

“Then why’re you talking about cooking?”

“Because you said that about playing house.”

“I may not know how to cook, but I know how to play house.” Lily smiled and let herself fall back on the bed.

There was nobody in Santa Barbara that they knew or that bothered to know them. Either way, they wouldn’t have paid any attention. On the beach they lay in the hot sun, watching the play around them, not caring to join in.

“See those kids with the ball, Lily? High-school kids.”

“They are?”

“Yeah. They’re your age.”

“Maybe. But not really,” and Lily stretched in the sand, like a cat rubbing her back, smiling at Catell with a slow sideways look.

Catell suffered only in the evenings, or early in the mornings. None of his wounds had healed, and sometimes he felt weak, shivery, his body like a rag doll soaked in water.

“How long have you been like this, Tony?”

“I don’t know. A long time, it seems.”

Lily bandaged his hand; the gauze became stained quickly. And once, in the waves, his body froze with a sick terror, a steel vise cramping his chest, and the breath stuck in his throat like a solid thing. This he never told Lily, but the rest of the day he kept still, lying flat, sweat breaking from his pores with each movement.

Sometimes he thought of his gold; each time the hard will that dominated all his acts flashed up like a blinding flame, forging his doubts, his pains, even his pleasures into a sharp steely point, like a weapon. The new start, the new life, the big time. Lily. Did any of this exist without Lily? The gold had been there before Lily, and all his sudden strength that came on him suddenly like a cramp, that too had been with him before Lily. But all this, no different now than it had been before, existed now because of the girl—the woman he had found.

Lily had never spoken of such things. Her face was
open and seemed to say nothing, and she gave her body without gesture. Lily had happy days with Catell.

When they left Santa Barbara they moved into an apartment in Santa Monica. Then Catell called Smith.

“I have an office downtown,” Smith said. “The Western Development Company. Look it up in the book. I’ll expect you tonight at eight.”

Lily went to the club to do her job, and Catell went downtown.

The place looked like any other office that used more than one desk. There was a railing with a swinging gate, there were several desks and filing cabinets and a switchboard. In the back an office was set apart by frosted glass. The place looked empty.

When Catell started through the swinging gate, the office door in the back opened and a goon with a face like a tomato came out.

“He’s waiting for ya. Step right in,” and the goon came past Catell and sat down at the switchboard.

Smith looked as he always did, rotund, a little jovial, his mouth busy on a cigar.

“Nice tan you got. Sit down, Catell, sit down.”

Catell sat.

“And how’s the little Lily?”

“She’s—Why do you ask?”

“Just polite, Catell, just a polite inquiry.”

“She’s fine. You know why I’m here, Smith, so let’s—”

“Of course. The gold. What do you think we ought to do, Catell?”

“What’s there to think? We made a deal, we set the price, and this is it. Where do you want it and when? That’s all there is to do, Smith.”

Catell had started to raise his voice, but he controlled
himself. He saw a speck of dust on his pants and brushed it off with a short movement. “Our agreement stands, Smith. You’re not dealing with a punk.”

Smith exhaled noisily, letting the sound die down. Then he leaned back and looked at the ceiling.

“You say we have a deal on, Catell, and you are right. You did a job and I paid you. I paid you even though I didn’t make a cent on that heist. In fact, it’s costing me. Would you like to know how much it’s costing me? However, that’s neither here nor there. And the fact that you couldn’t deliver is certainly not your fault. Nevertheless, the fact remains that the job did not come off.”

“Just a minute, Smith. Before—”

“Please let me finish. You and I have a deal. That stands. I’m not trying to pull out, Catell, because that’s not the way I work. But I’m asking you to stand by the terms of our agreement, just as I do. You’ve got to deliver.”

“You blaming me for that fluky setup?”

“Certainly not. And those to blame have been dealt with. You were present on one of the occasions yourself. I am suggesting, in all fairness to both of us, that you go along with me once more. I have—”

“I don’t operate that way, Smith. When—”

“I realize that, Catell. I realize the last operation cramped your style, there were holes in the planning, and I certainly didn’t get the benefit of your talent. The next time, all that will be corrected. I want you to be in on the planning, you can do your own research, and I’ll give you a percentage of the take.”

“You have it all worked out, haven’t you, Smith?”

“I have.”

And Catell knew there wasn’t anything he could do about it.

For a moment the thought made him see red. A thousand acrid hates rose in his throat. He closed his eyes, trying to control the fine trembling that crept through his body. He took a harsh breath. Watch it, Catell. You’re getting like a hophead taking the cold turkey. Hold on, for the sake of—for the sake of everything. Why am I cracking now? The knowledge of his strange new weakness drove fear into him.

“Is anything wrong, Catell?”

He opened his eyes, face still. “Nothing, Smith. Too much sun, I figure. Nothing’s the matter,” and then his strength came back. There were small beads of sweat on his forehead, but he was himself again.

“I was just thinking, Smith. I was thinking you’re right.”

“Good. We’ll talk about the details some other time. In general, it’s the same operation as the last. There’s a little resort up in the Sierras, small but expensive, where they run a sizable gaming room on weekends. You’ll go up and have a look yourself. I’ll give you a flat three thousand plus a percentage. We’ll go over that the next time. This will definitely be your last commitment—if you wish—and we’ll complete the rest of our affairs as soon as this is over.”

Smith opened his wallet and took out three bills. “Fifteen hundred on account. Take it.”

Catell picked up the money and stuck it in his pocket. Then they shook hands, Smith making a brief smile. When Catell was at the door, Smith said:

“Before I forget it. There was a call for you. A woman by the name of Selma.”

“What!”

“The past, apparently, rearing its head, eh?”

“What did she want?”

“Nothing. I took the message, because she came well recommended. Our friend Paar gave her my number.”

Catell walked back into the room “Why did she call?”

“She said to tell you she had arrived in town. And you should give her a ring at the Empress Arms.”

“That all?”

“Yes. I’m not sure whether she was asking you or telling you. Why, Catell, you look almost human!” Smith gurgled a laugh and watched Catell’s face turn glum. “Ah, I don’t often do this, Catell, but would you care to talk about it?”

“There’s nothing to talk about. I was just surprised for a minute.”

“I noticed that. Sit down, Catell. Here, have one of my cigars.”

“Thanks, I don’t smoke cigars. Anyway—”

“Sit down, Catell.”

They sat for a moment while Smith unwrapped a cigar for himself.

“I’m not concerned with anything in your life, Catell, except insofar as it affects your work in my organization. Please understand that. Now, just as I cannot tolerate a squealer in my work, I cannot tolerate the kind of problems that some men seem to have with women. I don’t like messes, Catell.”

“You’re going a little far, aren’t you, Smith?”

“I don’t mean to. It’s true, though, isn’t it, that this Selma is a lush?”

“Would you believe it, Smith, I don’t know. Selma was a dame I knew about ten years ago.”

“How about Detroit?”

“Nothing. I’d just been out of stir a short while.”

“Ah, I don’t mean to sound superstitious, Catell, but the man who lived with Selma—Schumacher, I think—and the man who was with Lily, they are both dead now.”

“I don’t follow that. If you’re not superstitious—”

“I’m not. Only some men, for vague reasons, unknown reasons, some men have a way of concentrating disaster around themselves, and it might be that you—and you’ll admit there is nothing average about you—that you could easily—”

“I don’t get any of that crap, Smith. I’m a guy like any other guy who knows what he wants and does all he can to get it. I’ve had my share of kicks, sure, but I’m as careful as the next guy.” Catell sucked on his cigarette, hard. “Especially now,” he added, and tossed the butt to the floor.

“Uh, now?”

“Yeah, now. I’m no spring chicken, Smith. It’s time I made good and found something solid. I haven’t got time to horse around. One, two solid jobs and I’m off this racket. I got some playtime coming to me and I mean to have it.”

“Speaking of playtime, are you including Lily in all this?”

“I’ll tell you this much, Smith: She isn’t playtime. Let’s just leave it at that.”

“I’m sorry if this riles you, but, as I have said before, my only intent is—”

“Yeah, I know. Commercial.”

“And that’s why I cover all angles, Catell. Of course, I’m glad to see that you are serious-minded, and that your attitude is sober. But that’s why I’m wondering. Don’t you think Lily is a little young, uh, for you?”

Catell got up and went to the door without answering. Then he turned and said, “I’m forgetting you asked that, Smith. And remember, don’t pump me again. You and me, Smith, we don’t discuss Lily. Understand?”

Smith shrugged his heavy shoulders and turned the swivel chair the other way.

“Don’t forget your message,” he said to the opposite wall. “You’re supposed to call this Selma.”

Catell stepped through the door and slammed it behind him.

He took the Freeway to Hollywood and then cut over to Sunset. He turned on Vine, parked the car, and walked back to the corner.

The corner of Sunset and Vine was crowded with characters. Professional characters, unintentional characters, and the plain crazy variety. There was the guy who once had the bad luck of writing one hit song, and nothing since. There was the slob who had another deal on and he was bending somebody’s ear about how the deal was hot. A high-stacked blonde was wailing for the light to change, looking busy and detached in dark glasses. Tourists hustled around in pairs, all atwitter with free passes to a TV broadcast. Catell saw them line up like sheep in front of CBS, all looking very much alike with cameras, Hawaiian shirts, and health shoes.

With nothing else to do, Catell walked into an ice cream parlor and sat down. He ordered Pistachio Delight, which came in a clifflike arrangement and smelled like perfume. He hated ice cream, but the glass dish felt cold in his hands, and he held on to the bowl as if it could draw the waves of fever out of his bones. Catell felt sick.

From where he sat, the night didn’t look like night. An
unnatural glare covered the street, making harsh black shadows. Catell lit a cigarette. After a few drags he pushed the butt into the wet mess in his ice cream dish, where the cliffs had turned into a soggy bog, and went outside.

Catell wasn’t the only one just standing around in the street, but he was the only one who wasn’t rushing. Another hour before he could see Lily.

He would have liked to see the Turtle. For a moment Catell forgot he was a hunted man and started to figure what to take to the Turtle during visiting hours tomorrow. That’s probably what they were waiting for. There were probably men watching the Turtle the way an angler concentrates on his hook, after a long day without a nibble.

Catell leaned against a wall and closed his eyes. Everything started to spin. He walked up and down the street like a very busy man, late for an appointment, or perhaps anxious to get there ahead of time, this being a really hot deal. It didn’t work. He couldn’t have cared less. He watched a young dish walk by, her high-heeled strut making highlights dance all over her. Just for the hell of it, he pushed himself away from the wall, turned toward the girl, and gave her the eye. She looked back so coldly that the whole vision of her turned ugly. But it wouldn’t have taken that much to make Catell lose interest. A minute or so later he couldn’t remember what she looked like.

Catell looked at his watch and started for his car. Pulling out in a sharp U turn, he drove up to Sunset and joined the traffic toward Beverly Hills. But he didn’t start to make any time until he passed the Beverly-Wilshire, where the traffic thinned out a little. Catell had started to smoke the way Topper used to: one cigarette after another and the windows closed. When he got to the Pink Shell, his pack was empty.

Lily still used the same dressing room where Catell had found her that first time. He went in and waited for her, folding and refolding the empty cigarette pack.

When she came in, Catell got up and smiled. “You’re looking good, baby. How was it?”