During his week in New York, Baird had thought a lot about Anita Jackson. Up to now he had never been interested in a girl. He had regarded women as a tiresome necessity, using them as a physical convenience and promptly forgetting them as soon as his infrequent desires were satisfied.
But this girl was different. He had spent thirteen days in her room, living in the closest contact with her, watching her prepare meals, seeing her dress and undress, go out to work at half-past seven in the morning and come in again late at night. He had watched her mend and iron her shabby wardrobe. He had lain in bed while she had shampooed her hair or cleaned her teeth or washed her stockings in the small toilet basin, seeing all the small activities that go on in hundreds of rooms rented by hundreds of girls like Anita Jackson, and which no other man was likely to see. It was this intimacy that created in him an interest he had never known with other women. It puzzled him that even though they had lived like this for thirteen days, he hadn’t thought of her in the way he thought of other women. What she had done for him and was doing for him protected her from the brutal urge he felt sometimes towards women. There was something about her that he couldn’t understand that made her untouchable to him.
She had saved his life by letting that fat Wop maul her on the bed. That was something he just couldn’t get over. She had changed the dressings on his wound day and night, and it was due to her care and attention that he was able to get on his feet ten days after the shooting. She wouldn’t explain why she had given him sanctuary, and when he pressed her she had turned on him angrily, saying, ‘Oh, do stop talking about it! I’m doing this to please myself. I don’t want your gratitude or your thanks. I’m not going to discuss it any more!’
It had worried Baird. He couldn’t understand anyone doing what she had done for a stranger. By letting him stay in the room, she was also risking a prison sentence. It baffled him. When he was well enough to think of leaving he had put three hundred dollars on the table, saying, ‘I guess I owe you something. Take this: I’ve got enough for myself. I’m not going to forget what you did for me. Go on, take it. You’ve earned it.’
He wasn’t used to expressing himself, and this speech had embarrassed him. At the back of his mind he thought he must be crazy to give her so much, and yet there was something in him that drove him to be generous: something he had never known before.
And when she had refused the money it was like a slap in the face to him. She had refused it curtly, as if money meant nothing to her, and his savage temper got the better of his intentions.
‘Then don’t have it!’ he snarled, put ing the money back in his pocket. ‘To hel with you! I’m not going to beg you to take it. If you’re going to be such a goddamn sucker you deserve what you get. I must be going soft in the head even to offer you anything!’
She had gone on preparing supper while he talked, and he had an uncomfortable feeling that she wasn’t even listening. This had so enraged him he had caught hold of her and jerked her around, pulling her close to him.
‘Do you hear what I’m saying?’ he demanded, glaring down at her. ‘Three hundred bucks!’ He gave her a little shake. ‘Why, you stupid bitch, it’s a fortune to you! What do you think you’re playing at –turning it down?’
‘Take your hands off me!’ she had said, with a fury that matched his own. ‘I don’t want your money!
Do you imagine kindness can be bought like something out of a grocery store? I helped you because I was sorry for you, as I would help anyone who was one against many. Let go of me!’
For a moment they had stood staring at each other, then he had released her and had moved away to sit on the bed. No other girl he had known had ever dared look at him the way she had looked at him. He hadn’t frightened her as he had meant to frighten her. He might have been just any other man, instead of a killer who was mauling her, and the discovery that she wasn’t afraid of him had given him a strange and intense pleasure.
Ever since he could remember people had been afraid of him. Even his mother had been afraid of him when he was in one of his savage tempers. His brother and sister seemed to know instinctively that he was dangerous, for they didn’t kid him as they kidded each other, and they were never at ease when they played with him. The children at school had been wary of him, and as he grew older, he came to recognise the quick fear that jumped into people’s eyes when they met him. Even Rico was afraid of him, although he fawned over him. Kile had been afraid of him, and that doll-faced blonde. They all seemed to sense the savage killer instinct that was in him.
This knowledge forced him into a dark, savage loneliness, making him callously self-reliant, bred in him suspicion and distrust, and to find someone who wasn’t afraid of him was like a light shining in the darkness.
The following morning, after Anita had gone to work as usual, he decided to quit. Every day he stayed in this room made it more dangerous for her. If she wouldn’t take his money, the least he could do was to get out. He left as it was growing dark, an hour or so before she was due back. He went through the skylight and across the roofs, following the same route as he had come.
He had left without telling her he was going, or without leaving a note for her to find on her return.
During the week in New York, while he had been fixing an alibi, he had thought continually of her.
Although they had spent so much time together, he knew nothing about her. He knew only that she had a job as a waitress in a steak joint, but he didn’t know where the joint was. He had tried to find out her background. It was beyond his powers to ask anything but direct questions, and she quickly blocked off the questions by curtly saying she didn’t wish to talk about herself.
In New York he found he missed her. He stayed at a cheap hotel, and each night as he undressed for bed he brooded on those past thirteen days when she was bustling about her room, not saying anything, but keeping him company by her presence, and pushing back the wall of loneliness that surrounded him.
He kept thinking of what she had said: Do you imagine kindness can be bought like something out of a grocery store? Kindness! To him it was a word in a foreign language, and yet his mind kept coming back to it. Well, he still owed her something. He was determined now to get out of her debt. He had to see her again. He knew she was desperately poor, and for some reason appeared to have no friends. In her way, she was as lonely as he was. She didn’t go to the movies or a dance or do anything girls with her looks were doing every night of their lives. Men seemed to have no place in her life. When he had asked her why she didn’t go out and enjoy herself, she had said defiantly, ‘I do enjoy myself. I don’t have to go out to do that. Anyway, I don’t want men hanging around me. They’re only after one thing, and they’re not going to get it from me!’
He had given up. She was too complicated for him to understand. Besides, it wasn’t his line to ask questions or to show interest in anyone. He felt hopelessly at sea with her, and irritated with himself for bothering about her.
But he had to see her again. Although it was after eleven o’clock when he left Eve Gil is’s apartment, it didn’t cross his mind that it was too late to cal on Anita. She got in from work at ten-thirty, and immediately went to bed. He knew she would probably be asleep by now, but he didn’t care. He made up his mind to see her that night, and that was the end of it.
On his way down town, he thought about Kile and his proposition. Ten grand to get a man out of jail!
With ten grand in his pocket, he would be on easy street for months. But what was behind all this? If he was worth ten grand to him, this man must be worth considerably more to Kile.
The job appealed to Baird: it was dangerous, difficult and well paid. It would mean a change of scenery. He felt in the mood to tackle some impossible task: it would be an outlet for his pent-up mood of savage, aimless anger that had been slowly welling up inside him for the past two weeks.
He had heard about the Bellmore State Prison Farm. It was one of the toughest prisons in the country.
Abe Golheim had been there, and Abe had told him about the place. It was surrounded by a belt of swamp land, thirty miles long and ten miles broad. Up to now no prisoner had ever got through the swamp, although a number had tried. They had either been caught by the dogs or had drowned. There had been lurid rumours that several had been eaten alive by alligators.
To get a man out of that swamp would be a hell of a job, Baird thought, as he walked quickly along the sidewalk towards the garage where he kept his car and, if the man resisted, it could be impossible.
But difficulties never worried Baird. He never considered defeat. He would try, and if it didn’t come off it would be just too bad. If it did the prize of ten thousand was worth having.
But he would have to make certain the money was there. He didn’t trust Kile. He knew instinctively that Kile wasn’t the top man. Someone was using Kile as a front. Baird was sure Kile didn’t want the job to come off. Even before the final arrangements had been made, Kile was jumpy and scared. Someone bigger than Kile was pushing him into the job either by threats or by the inducement of money.
What was the doll-faced blonde doing mixing herself up in this? Where did she fit in? She was scared, too. When he had said the job wasn’t impossible, she had flinched as if he’d hit her. Before he committed himself he would have to find out something about these two, and if he could, find out who the top man was and why he wanted this man in jail kidnapped.
There might be even more than ten grand to pick up if he kept his ears and eyes open. The job seemed full of possibilities.
He reached the garage, got into the battered Ford and drove over to the walk-up apartment house where Anita rented her room.
He left the car a hundred yards or so beyond the entrance to the house, walked back and paused to look up at the top window. It was in darkness, and he grimaced, sure now she was asleep.
There were still a number of people in the street and sitting at open windows, and he felt their eyes on him. Two men sat on the doorstep to the apartment house, smoking, and as he came up the steps they looked curiously at him. One of them was Toni, and Baird gave him a hard, menacing stare.
Toni shifted quickly to one side to give Baird room to pass. Baird saw the scared look that came into Toni’s eyes, and he felt like taking Toni by his mop of black hair and banging his head against the wall until his brains spilled out.
But he kept on, walking into the smelly, dimly lit lobby, and began to mount the stairs, aware that Toni and his companion were staring after him.
He walked up the five flights of stairs until he came to Anita’s landing. He paused outside the door, listening. Then he went back to the banister rail and looked down to make sure no one was coming up or watching him. He saw no one, and he returned to the door and rapped softly.
‘Who is it?’
The sound of her voice sent a little prickle up his spine, surprising him.
‘Baird,’ he said, his mouth close to the door. ‘I want to talk to you.’
He leaned against the doorway and waited. He heard the light click on, the pad of bare feet on the floor, then the door opened.
She stood looking up at him, her dark eyes unafraid and enquiring. She had pulled on her shabby overcoat. Beneath it he caught a glimpse of her plain white nightdress he had seen her in so often.
‘What do you want?’ she said sharply. ‘I was asleep.’
He experienced a pang of disappointment that she wasn’t pleased to see him, but he wasn’t going to be put off.
‘I guessed you would be,’ he said. ‘I’ve just got in from New York. I thought I’d see how you were getting on.’ He moved forward, riding her back into the room.
‘I don’t want you in here,’ she said, stepping away from him. ‘Not at this hour.’
‘Take it easy,’ he said, moving around her to the sagging armchair. ‘You’re not scared of me, are you?’
‘Why should I be? I just don’t want you here so late.’
He sat down, his eyes searching her face. No, she wasn’t afraid of him. He could tel that by looking at her.
‘Get into bed,’ he said. ‘I won’t keep you long.’
‘No.’ She sat on the edge of the bed and ran her fingers through her hair. She looked tired and pale, and he noticed her lips were whitish without the lipstick camouflage. ‘I’m dead beat. I wish you’d go. I don’t want you here.’
He felt a wave of irritation run through him, but he controlled it.
‘I shouldn’t have gone off like that without saying goodbye,’ he said uneasily. ‘I’ve had you on my mind. I’ve stil got that money. I’d like to lend it to you.’
She sat for a long moment looking at him. She saw his embarrassed uneasiness, and she felt sorry for him. Suddenly she smiled. She looked pretty when she smiled, and Baird found himself smiling stiffly back at her. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had smiled at him. He felt as if he had been given a costly and unexpected present.
‘Why do you want to lend it to me?’ she asked.
‘Because you’re such a damned mug you won’t take it as a gift,’ he said, sitting forward. ‘I owe you plenty, and it gives me the belly-ache to know you’re short of dough when I could help you.’
‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘I appreciate that, but I can’t take money from you. I guess I am a mug, but that’s the way it is. I don’t suppose you’l understand, but I must stand on my own feet. I can’t see you borrowing money if you were in a jam. You would want to be independent. Well, I guess I’m like that, too.’
He studied her.
‘But if a guy owes me something, I’d expect to be paid,’ he said. ‘And I owe you plenty.’
‘Can’t you forget that? It just happened you were lucky to come here. I would have done the same for anyone else. I always side with the one against many. It’s the way I’m made.’
He didn’t like that. He had hoped that she had helped him because of himself, not because of some cock-eyed kink about helping one against many. His expression changed, and his eyes became hostile.
‘You can’t expect me to keep on begging you to take the dough,’ he said roughly. ‘If that’s the way you feel about it…’
‘I’m sorry,’ she said quickly. ‘I didn’t mean to hurt you. I do appreciate…’
‘Ah, the hel with it!’ he said in disgust, and got to his feet. What had promised to be a pleasant and unusual evening was turning sour. He stood staring at her, then blurted out, ‘I don’t mean a thing to you, do I?’
He could read the answer in her surprised expression. The idea of caring for him had never entered her head.
‘Why…’ she began, and stopped.
‘Skip it,’ he said. ‘I’m get ing soft in the head. The trouble with me is I’m not used to dealing with a girl like you. The women I mix with would take the gold out of my teeth if I give them the chance.
You’re different. I was beginning to get ideas about you. You’re the first woman I’ve ever met who hasn’t been scared of me. Even my old lady was scared of me when I was a kid.’
‘She wasn’t afraid for herself,’ Anita said, looking straight at him. ‘She was afraid for you.’
Baird frowned. He had never thought of it in that way.
‘Maybe you’re right,’ he said uneasily. ‘She was the worrying kind.’
She drew her coat closer about her and moved her bare feet on the threadbare mat.
Watching her, Baird felt a sudden pang of desire shoot through him. He would have given a lot for her to have made a sign of encouragement, but she didn’t. She didn’t seem to realise he could reach out and grab her, and she wouldn’t have the strength to protect herself against him. He felt a sick disgust with himself for even thinking of this.
‘I guess I’l go,’ he said thickly. ‘Want to change your mind about that dough?’
She looked up and saw at once what was going on in his mind. Even then she showed no fear. She stood up and put her hand on his arm.
‘I can’t take it. Thanks for the offer. I’m sorry I’m not like your other women friends, if that’s what you want.’
He smiled crookedly and pulled her to him.
‘You’re okay as yourself.’
Her hands on his chest stopped him from kissing her. She didn’t push at him, but the pressure was firm, as if her hands were asking him not to do it.
He released her and stepped away.
‘I guess I’m get ing soft,’ he said. ‘Wel , so long. I guess we won’t see each other again, but if you’re ever in a jam you’l find me at 223 Hundred and Twenty-fifth Street. It’s not more than five minutes walk from here. Up on the top floor. Any time you’re in trouble and want help, come and see me.’ He opened the door, turned to look hard at her. ‘I owe you plenty. Don’t forget the address. You never know. You might need me one of these days.’
He went downstairs quickly, cutting off her reply. Toni and his companion still sat on the steps. They made way hurriedly as Baird came through the lobby.
He ran down the steps, and walked quickly along the sidewalk to his car.
* * *
Jack Burns, who had been lolling against a lamp standard, reading a newspaper, watched him drive away. Then he headed for a nearby drug store. He got Harmon Purvis on the phone after a delay.
‘Burns reporting,’ he said, pushing back his hat and speaking rapidly. ‘Baird left Roxburgh House at eleven-five. Rico didn’t come out with him. Baird’s been cal ing on a girl who has a room on the top floor of an apartment house on Twenty-fifth Street. He stayed about a quarter of an hour. It’s my bet he holed up with this girl when the cops were hunting for him.’
‘Who is she?’ Purvis asked.
‘Her name’s Anita Jackson,’ Burns said. ‘I managed to get one of the tenants of the house to talk about her. He says her morals are no better than they should be: whatever that may mean. She works at a steak joint on Western Street. Want me to do anything about her?’
‘Not yet,’ Purvis said. ‘Stick to Baird. If he sees her again we might put a tail on her. Don’t let Baird out of your sight. I have an idea things will start moving in a day or so.’
‘Yeah,’ Burns said, yawning. ‘Maybe sooner. I’l get over to his place. Tel Ainsworth not to be late. I want some sleep tonight.’
‘You’ve got al tomorrow to sleep,’ Purvis said heartlessly. ‘There’re more important things to think about.’
‘Don’t let me keep you out of your bed,’ Burns said sarcastical y, and hung up.