SHEP CAME IN JUST after five o’clock. Duffy was cleaning his Colt. Gilroy and Schultz sat in chairs, watching him.
Duffy looked up sharply and said, “Found her?”
Shep waddled in, sat down and blotted his face with his handkerchief. “Yeah,” he said. “Guess where?”
Duffy put his gun on the table. His mouth became a thin line. “Where?” he said.
Shep smiled happily; he said, “It’s rich. She’s gone hot pants for Morgan’s nance.”
Duffy’s eyebrows rose. “Clive?”
Shep nodded. “She’s over at the little rat’s apartment right now. He’s in bed, screaming hell, because someone trod on his pan.”
Duffy got to his feet. “We’ll go right over and pick her up,” he said, slipping the gun down his waist-band.
Gilroy said, “All of us?”
Duffy shook his head. “Suppose Shep and me go,” he said.
Shep said, “Sure.” He mumbled something to Gilroy and gave a loud tinny laugh.
Duffy said, “I’ll go on to the Belmont Plaza after. Suppose you two boys get down there and watch the lobby. We ain’t going to take any chances with Morgan.”
Gilroy nodded. “Okay,” he said.
Duffy and Shep went out and climbed in the Buick. Duffy took the wheel. As he pushed the Buick down the street, he said, “If that jane gets tough, knock her off.”
Shep nodded. “She’s a grand looker, ain’t she?” Then he said sadly, “It’s tough being fat.”
Duffy shot him a side-glance. “You don’t know when you’re getting the breaks,” he said shortly. “That jane’s poison.”
Shep gave him some directions, then said wistfully, “I guess it’d be good, going places with a honey like that.”
Duffy said nothing. “He drove fast. After a ten-minute run, he said, “This the street?”
Shep stuck his little head out of the window and peered.
“That’s right.”
Duffy drew into the kerb. They both got out. “What number did you say?”
Shep hunted in his pockets, found a scrap of paper, screwed up his eyes, then said, “1469.”
Duffy checked the house near him. “It’s on the other side farther down.”
Together they crossed the street and began walking casually down. Duffy said, “They’re both dangerous; you got to watch ’em, Shep.”
Shep grinned. “Me… I’m scared to hell… like hell,” he said.
1469 was a tall, gaunt apartment house. Duffy ran up the steps and checked the list of names. “Clive Wessen,” he said. He rang the next bell, waited until the latch gave, pushed open the door and walked in. Shep shuffled behind him. “Third floor,” Duffy said, keeping his voice down.
They climbed the stairs slowly. The place was clean and bright. Duffy said, “These punks live well, don’t they?”
Shep said nothing, he was saving his breath. On the third floor, Duffy took the Colt out; he held it loosely in his hand, hanging down by his side.
He nodded to a door at the far end of the passage. “There it is,” he said. “Can you open it?”
Shep said, “I can open any door. Watch me.” Moving very quietly, he went to the door, examined the lock, then turned his head and beamed. “It’s a cinch,” he said.
“Get going,” Duffy murmured.
Shep felt in his pocket, took out a little tool, fitted it in the lock and turned. Duffy heard the lock slip with a faint click. He said in Shep’s ear, “Give me two minutes, then come on in.”
Shep nodded and stood aside. Duffy gently turned the handle, pushed open the door, and walked in. He found himself in a small hall, about twelve feet by sixteen. Facing him were two doors. He trod quietly over and listened. He thought he heard someone talking behind the right-hand door. Holding his gun waist-high, he pushed open the door, stepped in quickly. Then he said in a cold voice, “You seduced him yet?”
Annabel spun round. She was standing by a divan, on which Clive was lying. Clive’s face was beautifully bandaged with plaster. Someone had made a very neat job of it. All Duffy could see of Clive’s face was two eyes that hated him.
Duffy said very sharply, “Don’t start anything. Keep still.”
Clive said in a curiously adenoidal voice, “Get out of here.”
Annabel ran her fingers through her hair. She smiled at Duffy. “I think you’re cute,” she said.
Duffy said, “Sit down.”
Shep wandered in. He looked first at Clive, then at Annabel. He puffed out his cheeks, then took off his hat.
She had sat down on the foot of the divan. She said in her breathless voice, “Who’s your gentleman friend?”
Shep beamed and fingered his necktie. He glanced at Duffy. “What a honeypot!” he said.
Duffy had his eyes on Clive. Although Clive was dressed, he had a rug over him, hiding his hands. Duffy said, “Put your hands where I can see them.”
“Suppose we be friends…?” Annabel broke in.
Duffy turned his head a little. “You’re coming with me,” he told her. “We’ve got a home for you to go to.”
She said, “Now?”
Duffy said, “That’s k. Right now.”
She stood up. “Home?” she said suddenly. “What do you mean… home?”
Duffy said, “You’ll know. Say good-bye to your boyfriend, you ain’t seeing him any more.”
She looked at Clive, then she shrugged a little. “I don’t mind,” she said. “He’s not quite in one piece. He’s a waste of time.”
Shep grinned. “A jane like you ain’t got no right running with a nance,” he said seriously.
Clive said in a low voice, “Get to hell out of here, all of you.”
Annabel said, “May I get my things?”
Duffy shook his head. “You can come as you are,” he said. “I want to talk to you… come on.”
She giggled. “I love you when you get like that,” she said. “Let’s talk; I’ve got lots to tell you.” She waved her hand at Clive. “About him and Morgan. You’ll eat it up.
Clive drew his lips off his teeth, then he shot her. Duffy just caught the slight movement under the rug as the gun roared. The rug began to smoulder.
Duffy fired at Clive, but the big Colt kicked up and the bullet smacked against the wall two feet above Clive’s head. Moving with incredible rapidity, Shep flung himself on Clive.
Duffy walked cautiously over to Annabel, looked at her, then shoved his gun in his hip pocket and knelt down beside her. She lay on her back, one hand clenched tightly to her right side. She opened her eyes and looked at him, then she began to cry.
Duffy said, “Take it easy. You’ll be all right.”
He picked her up. Shep said, “Bring her here.” He had tossed Clive on to the floor. Clive lay flat. Shep had smacked him hard on the chin.
Duffy put her on the divan. He said urgently, “Get some water and dressing. She’s bleeding like hell.”
Shep went out of the room. Duffy could hear him pulling drawers open and hunting about in the next room. He took his pocket-knife and ripped away her clothes round the wound. “Hurry, damn you,” he shouted to Shep when he saw where she was shot.
Shep came back in a lumbering run. He had a handful of small towels and a jug of water. Duffy took them from him. “’Phone English, and tell him,” he said. “Get going, this is urgent.”
While he was fixing the wound, she opened her eyes again. She looked at him. She saw the sweat glistening on his face and she said, “Am I going to die?”
He couldn’t do anything to stop the bleeding. He said rather helplessly, “It’s the best way for you, I think.”
She said, “I think so, too,” and she began to cry again.
He tied a pad over the wound, but he knew it was useless. She said, “Give me a drink.”
He had to hold her head to give her the Scotch. She said, “I’m sorry about everything.”
Duffy’s face was very hard. “You little girls are always sorry when it’s too late.”
She said, “It was your fault that I killed your woman.”
Duffy said, “It’s best you should go like this.” He couldn’t bring himself to say anything else.
“No other man’s ever turned me down,” she said. “Remember I offered myself?”
“Yeah, I remember. I guessed you’d want to settle that score.”
“If you wrote down everything, I could sign it,” she said. “I’d like that.”
Duffy took a quick step to the writing-desk, found a pad and came back. She said, in a low voice, “You’ll be quick?”
Duffy said, “Sure. You killed Cattley, didn’t you?”
“Yes, Cattley was double-crossing Gleason, who was my husband. No one knew about that. Gleason was bad, but he was making money. I had to have that. I learnt that Cattley was taking half, so I pushed him down the lift shaft. He was a little man, it was quite easy. You came along and covered me on that. Then Max. You see, they all bothered me. I tried once just to see, but none of them were any good. So after that I didn’t want them again. Max was always pressing me. Then he got the photos, and asked me up to his flat to trade them in the usual way, so I went and I killed him too.”
Duffy wrote quickly. He gave her another drink. Shep came in and stood behind him. He said, “English is coming.” Duffy raised his hand for silence.
Annabel went on, “I hated you. When I went out to the Shann woman’s villa to find the book, I thought you’d both be out. I saw you drive the car away, and I thought she was with you. Then I went inside and she started getting excited, so I killed her too.”
Duffy said, “It got you nowhere, did it?”
She said, so faintly that Duffy had to lean forward, “I was so tired of… Murray… when you came… I… thought I could… put it… on you.”
Duffy scribbled quickly, put the pen in her hand. “Can you do it?” he said anxiously.
She said, “I… can’t… see.”
Duffy held her hand and put the nib on the paper. “Sign,” he said loudly and roughly. The pen slipped out of her fingers and her hand dropped out of his. He turned and looked at Shep. “Can you beat that?” he said savagely. “This confession lets me out, and I’m damned if she doesn’t die on me before she signs.”
Shep said, “That’s tough.”
Duffy stood up. “Look at her, Shep,” he said. “You ain’t likely to find a worse woman in the country.”
Shep shrugged. “What’s it matter, as long as she looks right?”
Duffy said impatiently, “Clive okay?”
Shep nodded. “He’ll be out for another hour.”
Duffy glanced at the clock. He saw it was quarter to six. He said, “Come on, we got a date. Let English fix this.”
Shep followed him out of the apartment and down the stairs. Duffy said when they got into the street, “Morgan’ll just hate me for this.”
Shep grinned as he climbed into the car. “Yeah,” he said. “Will they burn the nance?”
Duffy shrugged. “Maybe English’ll hush it all up. But you bet they’ll pin something on that nance to keep him busy.”
It was just after six when Duffy swung the Buick to the kerb outside the Belmont Plaza. “Come with me,” he said.
They walked into the busy lobby. Across the lounge he saw Schultz reading a newspaper. Schultz made no sign that he had seen him, but by the way he folded the paper and laid it down Duffy knew he had.
The little guy and Joe came in. Joe was looking mad, he scowled at Duffy. The little guy said, “You’re going to get into trouble one of these days.”
Duffy said, “Skip the talk. Let’s get down to business.” He walked into the bar. The little guy Followed him, leaving Joe in the lobby. Shep beamed at Joe, but said nothing.
The little guy said, when they got to the bar, “What you doing with Gilroy’s mob?”
Duffy stared at him coldly. “You’ll know before long,” he said. “Come on, let’s get this over, you stink.”
The little guy giggled. He put his hand inside his coat and took out an envelope. He opened it and drew out a sheaf of notes. Duffy watched him count them. Twenty-five grand. Then Duffy took the note-book out and they exchanged. The little guy said, “And the duplicate?” Duffy smiled. His eyes were like ice. “The State’s got that.”
The little guy shook his head sadly. “You shouldn’t have done that,” he said. “Morgan’s going to get mad when I tell him that.”
Duffy said deliberately, “Morgan can —— himself.”
The little guy giggled again. “I’ll tell him that too.” He put the note-book in his pocket. “Those notes are phoneys,” he said, as an afterthought.
Duffy took the envelope out of his pocket, examined one of the notes carefully. It looked all right to him. “You don’t say,” he said.
The little guy nodded cheerfully. “Sure, Morgan wouldn’t pay a punk like you in real dough.”
Duffy put the notes away. He had an idea.
The little guy said, “Well, for God’s sake, you’re taking it quietly, ain’t you?”
Duffy said, “Take my tip, scram.”
The little guy looked at him, then nodded. “You’ll see me again, of course,” he said apologetically.
Duffy said, “Before you think.”
He watched the little guy walk out, followed by Joe, then he beckoned to Shep and called for two ryes. Shep came over. “You got it?” he said.
Duffy slipped one of the notes out and gave it to him.
Shep glanced at it, beamed and said, “As easy as that, huh?”
Duffy pushed the glass over to him, drained his quickly and nodded at the barman. “One more,” he said.
Shep said, “You drink too quickly.”
“So long as I don’t drink too much, why should I worry?”
Shep frowned, then said, “It amounts to the same, don’t it?”
He gave Duffy back the note reluctantly. Duffy put it with the others. He said, “Let’s go.”
Gilroy and Schultz were sitting in the Buick waiting for them. When the Buick was rolling, Gilroy said, “No fuss?”
Duffy handed the notes over to him. “There they are,” he said.
Gilroy counted them and whistled. “This don’t seem natural,” he said.
Duffy stared out of the window. “Maybe, it ain’t.”
Gilroy examined the notes carefully, then he said, “Phoneys.”
Duffy nodded. “Yeah, he told me as much before he left.”
“So what?”
Duffy turned his face, so that he looked at Gilroy.
“I guess we’re going to frame Morgan with those. It’ll be worth twenty-five grand to clap him away. English’ll pay as much as that for the job.”
“How… frame?”
“We’ll go out to his place and plant that stuff tonight. There’s a nice little rap for making notes as big as these. Once we get those planted, then we tip English, and he does the rest.”
Gilroy said, “The dough would’ve been better.”
Duffy shrugged. “You can’t have everything,” he said.
Shep had been listening to the conversation. He turned his head. “Say, those notes sure made a sap of me. Why not put ’em on the street? We’d pass ’em okay.”
Duffy said, “No, that’s not the way to play it. You’ll get the dough all right, but it’ll take a little longer. When you get it, it’ll be safe.”
When they got back to the Bronx, Duffy ’phoned English. English said, “We’ve got Wessen.”
“How about Annabel?”
“Never mind about her. I’ve paid another five thousand dollars into your account. That should hold you for a bit.”
Duffy grinned to himself. “Listen, English,” he said. “Are you holding Clive Wessen on a murder rap?”
“Murder?” English seemed surprised. “No, he’s in for cocaine smuggling.”
Duffy grinned and winked over his shoulder at Gilroy.
“I bet that guy had his pockets full of the white stuff,” he said.
“The police found enough incriminating evidence to justify an arrest,” English said smoothly.
“I bet they did,” Duffy said. “And Annabel?”
There was a pause, then English said in a faintly hostile voice, “You know about that. My unfortunate daughter was killed by a hit-and-run motorist.”
“That’s too bad,” Duffy said. “I’ll be having some more work for you in a little while.” He hung up. “That bird’s cagey,” he said to Gilroy. “They framed Wessen, smothered Annabel’s murder. It’s a hit-and-run case.”
Gilroy shook his bullet head. “You gotta watch him.”
Duffy shrugged. “We’re playing on his side.” He went over and helped himself to a drink. “It’s nice to have a guy like that behind you.”
Gilroy nodded and left him. When he had gone, Duffy sat down and did some thinking. Then he got up and went over to the small bureau, unlocked the top drawer, took out the bundle of money he had left there, and looked at it. Then he went to the door and turned the key. He sat down at the table and counted the money carefully. He’d got thirty-four grand and some small notes. He counted on the table three piles of five thousand dollars. That left him nineteen thousand dollars. He split the nineteen grand into four parts. One went into his hip pocket, another in his side pocket, and the third in his trouser pocket. The fourth, three thousand dollars, he folded carefully and put in his shoe. He had to take his shoe off and put it on twice before it was comfortable.
He went over and unlocked the door, picked up the money on the table, and wandered into the bar.
Gilroy was talking to Schultz and Shep. They were drinking beer. They all looked up, a faintly expectant expression on their faces.
Duffy leant on the bar. “Here’s your split,” he said gently. He gave each man the money rolled in a tight ball. “Five grand,” he said. “Don’t count it now.”
Shep picked up his glass and poured the beer on the floor at his feet. “Gimme champagne,” he said to the barman. “I’m goin’ to launch myself.”
Schultz fingered his cut, then shoved it in his trouser pocket. He looked vacantly at Duffy, nodded, and went out.
Gilroy turned his head, watching him walk across the floor. “That guy’s mighty careful with his dough,” he said. “I wouldn’t say he’s tight. He’s careful.”
Duffy glanced at the clock. “I’m going to snatch myself a little sleep,” he said. “We’ll get going about eleven.”
Gilroy said, “Any dough hanging to this job?”
Duffy nodded. “Sure,” he said. “I want you boys to make money while you can.”
Shep took his short fat nose out of his glass. “That’s a hell of a way to talk,” he said.
Duffy grinned. “You expect to earn this dough, don’t you?” he said.
“Sure, but we won’t work that hard.”
Back in his room, Duffy rang Sam. He said, “Do you feel like doing me a favour?”
Sam said, “Aw, forget it, will you? Alice’s only a little dumb; she don’t know what it is to want things.”
Duffy’s mouth twisted. “You lay off Alice. She’s right. See? Alice is goddam right. If I’d got the sense of a louse, I’d be doing a job of work instead of trying to be a big shot. Well, I ain’t got the sense, and what’s more, I’m getting a kick out of this. What I want you to do is to keep your ear open down at headquarters. I want you to keep an eye on English. That bird’s been pulling too many fast ones to make me sleep easy. Will you do that, Sam?”
Sam seemed puzzled. “Sure,” he said. “I’ll do any little thing like that.”
Duffy said, “You’ll keep me in touch. If anything starts popping, gimme a buzz?”
Sam said, “Sure,” then he said, “You know what you’re doing?” He sounded worried.
Duffy said, “I’m bucking something that thinks it’s too big for me, but ain’t.” He added, “’Bye, soldier,” and dropped the receiver on its prong.
Outside, he could hear the rain beating down. He went over to the bed and lay flat, one leg hanging over the side. He scratched the side of his face gently with his nail. “I wonder…” he said to himself, then he heard someone walk past his door. He heard Gilroy say, “She don’t wear ’em. It saves time.” Shep said something in his tinny voice, but Duffy couldn’t hear.
In time, the sound of the rain lulled him.