Everybody Had A Gun (9 page)

I was thinking that Ozzie York, who might well have been the guy who took those first shots at me, must have been sent by Sader to get me about the time Iris had been scooting up in the food lift, and that my next stop would be to see little Ozzie again, when I remembered Iris had more to tell me.

"Look, sweetie. After you left my office you sort of disappeared."

"Oh. I started to go to the bar you said, but as soon as I got downstairs, before I even got inside, a man grabbed me. He had a gun in his pocket and made me get in a car that was at the curb. I—I managed to drop my bag, hoping you'd see it."

"Yeah. I saw it. Lucky you dropped it. Maybe lucky for both of us."

She said softly, "I guess that was the only sensible thing I did. Anyway, we sat in the car and the fellow seemed nervous. He was the tall thin one down in Sader's office."

I nodded and she went on, "He kept watching the entrance to your building as if he thought somebody'd be coming out, but then a police car drove up behind us. I don't know where it came from. The fellow had his gun pointed at me, and I couldn't yell or scream. And, anyway, he drove away as soon as he saw the police car stop and the policemen go into the building. Then he brought me back to the Pit."

I said, "You're lucky Marty didn't haul you some place besides his club. Lucky, for that matter, that he didn't pull the same trick on you he pulled on Lobo. What kept him talking so long?"

"He seemed worried and kept asking me questions. Just kept it up, over and over. He wanted to know if I'd told anybody else, and why I went back to see you—he didn't know, of course, that I hadn't really seen you before. Then he asked me about the police car that came up, and more about you—and that man in your office. I—Shell. I had to tell them about him being on the floor in your office when I got there."

"That's O.K. Probably worried Marty more that way. The guy's in jail now."

"Oh. They wondered about that. They wanted to know if he was dead, or what. I didn't know, myself. It's a good thing you came when you did. They were getting tired of talking to me, I think."

Iris must have been pretty tired, too, by then. She'd had a rough time, and I couldn't help thinking that, even if she was largely responsible for the mess I was in, it had taken a lot of courage for her to make her way to my office and try to warn me when she couldn't reach me by phone. No wonder she'd been so frightened. Up until now I'd been anxious to find her primarily so I could get the information she'd just finished giving me; now I felt as if I owed Iris something. I could at least give her a helping hand if the opportunity arose. Anyway, I wouldn't pop her head.

What she'd told me seemed to have brought me up to date, but I had the uneasy feeling there was more I should know. I had the binoculars focused on Breed, sitting in his black Cadillac, and he was on his fourth cigar when I saw him throw it out the window, open the door, and get out of the car.

He was looking down the sidewalk, and I swung the glasses to my left. All five of the men who'd been down in the club—at least, I assumed it must be the same men—were coming out of the alley and walking toward Breed's car. The main reason I'd wanted the glasses was so I could get a good look at whoever might be around, and I stared at those boys till I'd have known them anywhere.

One of them was gingerly rubbing the back of his head as he started talking to Breed. It was the flat-faced guy with the little berry eyes, the one I'd slammed on the noggin. Breed's fat jowls quivered as he snarled something in reply, and even from there I could see his big belly shaking. He finally turned and pulled his 260 pounds back into the car, and the driver roared away from the curb. They went right past the pawnshop and I got a look at the driver before they skidded around the corner. The rest of the goons trooped up the alley toward the Plymouth, my chum still patting his head.

I took a big breath and let it out slowly. Finally there was time to breathe a little easier. And I was damn near starved. My mouth watered as I thought of a juicy, red-rare steak.

I turned to Iris. "Well, honey, we're all right for a while. Lord knows how long. But you sure can't go back to your apartment. We'll have to find some safe place for you to lie low a while. There's a damn good chance Sader'll head there and try to pick you up later. You can't—"

I stopped and frowned down at her. She was staring at me with an expression of horror on her face. "Shell," she breathed. "Shell, they will go there. And Mia's there. Mia's there alone!"

Good old Shell. Still a lap behind.

Chapter Eight

I SPUN AROUND and barked at the pawnshop owner, "Where's your phone?"

The suddenness of it startled him. He stared at me, shaking his white head. I yelled as I jumped across the room toward him, "Where's the phone? Quick, man!"

He sputtered, "Why, in back. But it's a pay phone—just for business."

I went through the back door of the shop into a small hallway, yelling at Iris for her phone number. I found the phone on the wall and dug a nickel out of my pocket as she called the number to me, and I heard her run up behind me. I was already dialing the number.

The phone buzzed and buzzed and I started to sweat. If Sader had hustled directly to Iris and Mia's apartment, he might have got there by now. I didn't know. It was a good twenty-minute drive from this part of town. But he'd have been in a hurry.

"Iris," I snapped, "would Mia be there? She going anyplace?"

"No. I'm sure she wasn't. She said she was going to lie around the house and rest up."

I swore softly under my breath, remembering the animal sensuality smoldering under Mia's swelling curves, her rustling voice and disconcerting stare. I wondered what Sader would do to that if he got hold of it. He was smart enough not to overlook a bet, and he'd figured he could force Mia to wait till Iris got in touch with her, then double-cross her roommate. And for all Sader knew, Mia might know just as much as Iris did—they'd been together all night after Iris had seen the business in the alley outside the Pit.

The phone kept buzzing. Then, finally, the receiver went up at the other end.

"Hello." Soft, like wind in deep grass.

"Mia?"

"Yes."

"You all right? Anything wrong?"

"Of course I'm all right. Who is this?"

"Shell Scott. I talked to you right after noon. Remember? Get—"

She interrupted smoothly, "Oh, I remember. Of course I remember, Mr. Scott."

"Get out of there," I said. "Get out of the apartment.

I haven't time to explain, just get the hell out!"

"What? Why—"

"Mia. Remember I talked to you about Iris? She's here.

She's with me. And you're in trouble now. Get out of there. Quick."

It hadn't quite sunk in yet. She said, "Iris? Oh, that's wonderful," and there was real feeling in her voice. "I was worried. But I'll have to get dressed. I'm naked."

"What?"

"I was soaking in the tub. I haven't anything on."

What was I going to do with this gal? I said harshly, "I don't give a damn if you've got scarlet fever. Get the hell out of that apartment!"

The urgency in my voice must have got through to her. She hesitated only a moment, then said, still softly, "All right, Mr. Scott."

I pulled Iris up in front of the phone and said, "Say something to this gal quick. Tell her to meet us a couple blocks away from there. We'll be in a yellow Cad."

Iris said into the mouthpiece, "Mia, honey, it's no gag. Meet us at Hampton and Curson. Please hurry, hon. It's—"

I grabbed the receiver from her hand, slammed it down on the hook, and pulled Iris after me as we started out.

The little man started yelling, "My glasses! My glasses!" and I suddenly remembered I still had the damn things slung over my shoulder. I yanked them off and tossed them to him as we went out the door. I didn't look to see if he caught them.

We slid around the corner at Fountain and Curson, a block from Hampton Avenue, and I saw her right away, standing at the corner. Shucks. She wasn't naked.

But she damn near was.

We stopped in front of the curb and Iris swung the Cad's door open and Mia jumped in. I shoved the accelerator down and we were on our way. Mia had some dresses crumpled up in her right hand, and as she got into the car she dropped them in her lap. Maybe it was a good thing. Anybody with half an eye could see she had nothing on but a thin cotton dress—and I've got twenty-twenty vision.

She said softly, "What's this all about? You actually scared me. I just got into the first dress I found and grabbed these others."

She didn't have to tell me that.

She added, "I didn't even take time to dry off."

She didn't have to tell me that, either. I forced myself to look at the road ahead of me, and a picture flashed through my mind of Mia hanging up the phone and running frantically around the apartment, grabbing a dress and wriggling into it.

Wriggling. . .I groaned.

Iris said, "Shell, what's the matter?"

"Huh? Oh, nothing. Just thinking."

I looked over the menu. No prime ribs.

The girls hadn't been especially hungry, but I was so empty I was beginning to shake, so we'd pulled into a little café on Gower Street. And even though they were both on a diet—what woman except a fat woman isn't always on a diet?—they said they'd have a salad while they watched me. That was O.K. by me. I almost stabbed my cheek watching them watch me. Anyway, while I put down a thick top sirloin rare enough to have blood oozing out of it, but hot all the way through, Iris brought Mia up to date with occasional help from me.

Mia's eyes got round as she listened and asked a question once in a while, but by the time I'd stuffed myself she had it all.

She looked at me. "Mr. Scott—"

"Look, we're old pals now. Call me Shell."

"Shell, you're really a detective, then? I wasn't sure when you came to the apartment. I—thought maybe it was a trick of some kind."

"No trick. And I'm a detective."

I lifted the gray lapel of my gabardine suit and showed her my gun. That always gets 'em.

She smiled a little. "You shoot people with that, don't you, Shell?"

"Sure. Hundreds of them."

Iris said, "Oh! You silly."

"Yeah. I was kidding. I just wear it when I go out with girls."

Mia blinked at me. Then she said, "I just can't believe it. About Marty, I mean. He always seemed pretty nice."

"Uh-huh. And he's probably kind to animals. Lots of pretty nice people kill people. Look where he'd be if we ran around loose."

"I know," she said. "You read about things like that, but it's always somebody else. Not somebody you know. He—it's funny. He told me once between shows at the club that he was going to have a million dollars. And he was serious. Said he never had enough to eat when he was a kid; something about the first big meal he had, he thought he was sick, his stomach felt so funny."

"Kid, he was just feeling sorry for himself. Or else he wanted you to feel sorry for him, which is probably more like it. Lots of guys don't get enough to eat when they're kids, but they don't go around killing people."

My stomach felt funny, too. Maybe I'd kill Marty.

"Come on, lovelies," I said. "Let's go."

It looked like a good place. I'd remembered relaxing up here overnight in this little house a friend of mine owned near Brush Canyon. It wasn't much of a house, more of a cabin really: one room with a double bed, and one other small room with a wood-burning stove, which classed the little room as a kitchen. But it would be a good place for the girls to lie low. We'd made good time and it had taken only about twenty minutes to get up here. Now I parked the Cad at the side of the cabin and said, "End of the line. How you like this for a vacation spot?"

Both the girls squealed and clapped their hands in front of them. Not very close in front. Neither of them could get very close.

It wasn't a bad spot. The cabin site, that is. Lots of shrubs and brush around the cabin, a few trees, and little animals like rabbits and squirrels running around. We got out and went inside and it wasn't so pretty any more. But it would do.

I said, "Here's where you two stay till the smoke clears."

The two-room cabin was bare as a bone except for reasonably clean bedclothes, and it was obvious there wasn't any food in the place. There were cups and glasses and plates and silverware. That was about all.

I added, "You relax and I'll bring you up some food. later on. That wood stove's not much to cook on, but it'll have to do."

Mia asked, "Isn't there a store around here anywhere?" Even asking a simple question like that, her eyes were fixed on me and it sounded like "Come here and shred me like cabbage." That's the way she was.

I said, "Yeah. Store somewhere, mile or so from here. I don't remember where it is, but it doesn't make any difference. You gals better stick inside. You know how rough this is now, Mia. Let the groceries go. I'll bring some stuff back from town."

Mia walked over and bounced on the bed. I damn near died. She said, "Bring some romaine and olive oil and lemons and spaghetti and hamburger. I'll make you a list. When you come back I'll fix salad and spaghetti."

Iris said, "Shell, will you be all right? I mean—"

I grinned at her. "Sure."

Iris went over and flopped on the bed. She bounced almost as well as Mia. I kept standing. There weren't any chairs in the cabin; the only place to sit down was the bed, and the girls had most of that. Oh, there was still room, but I just didn't have the time.

"I'll see you later," I told them. "Stay put in here and I'll get back when I can." I looked at my watch. "It's already four-thirty. Figure forty-five minutes or an hour just to get in and back—and I've got some things to do downtown. It might be fairly late before I get up here again, but don't worry."

Iris said softly, "Shell, we will worry. Be careful."

Mia didn't say anything; she leaned back with both arms behind her on the bed, and blinked slowly at me.

I took a last look at the prettiest sight I'd be seeing for a while, told the gals good-by, and took off. Reluctantly.