Fast Buck (10 page)

Baird ached to lie down on the bed again. The pain in his side was torturing him, and his legs began to sag. He pulled himself together, pressing his shoulders against the wall, his lips coming off his teeth in a snarl.

He watched the girl lean over the banister rail.

‘Toni! Toni!’ she cal ed sharply. ‘What’s happening?’

Baird stiffened. What was she up to? Why didn’t she get down stairs? The cops wouldn’t bother about her if there was any shooting.

‘Some killer loose,’ a man’s voice cal ed up to her. ‘The cops think he might be hiding in this house.

You got him under your bed, Anita?’ He laughed excitedly as if he had made the best joke in the world.

‘You bet,’ the girl said, and laughed. ‘I’ve got him right here. Want to come up and see him, Toni?’

‘I wil come up and see you, bambino.’

‘With the cops coming up, too?’

‘No cop stops me loving a girl,’ the man said, and laughed. ‘Not even a cop with a gun.’

‘That’s what you say,’ the girl said, and snapped her fingers. ‘You’re al talk, Toni.’

‘Yeah? This time I don’t talk. I come up.’

‘Bet er not,’ the girl jeered, ‘they’l take you away in their lit le black wagon.’

Baird heard quick, heavy footsteps on the stairs. He saw a fat, powerfully built fellow, going bald, with a blue-black growth of beard, come bounding on to the landing. He was wearing a soiled singlet and black trousers, and his face was shiny with sweat.

Laughing, he rushed at the girl, who avoided him. They dodged about on the landing. She was very quick, but she hadn’t much room to manoeuvre, and he finally trapped her in a corner.

‘No, Toni! I was only fooling,’ she said, trying to push him back as he crowded her, holding her arms and grinning like a mischievous monkey as she wrestled with him. ‘Not now. Some other night. Stop it!

They’l be coming up!’

‘It’s always some other night,’ the man said, giggling excitedly. ‘To hel with them! Al talk, you say.

I show you it’s not al talk!’

He grabbed her around the waist and under the knees and swung her off her feet.

‘Put me down, Toni!’ the girl said, keeping her voice low. She struggled to break away, but not so violently that he couldn’t handle her.

‘Not even a cop with a gun is going to stop me this time,’ he said, and there was a sudden change in his voice that made Baird stiffen.

‘No! Stop it, you fool!’

He ran with her across the landing, kicked open the door and blundered into the dark room. He kicked the door shut and stumbled over to the bed.

Invisible against the wall, Baird lifted the gun. He stood motionless, every nerve in his body tense, while he listened to the struggle going on on the bed.

‘You devil!’ he heard the girl gasp. ‘You mustn’t!’

‘Not even a cop with a gun!’ the man panted as he struggled with her. ‘You asked for it this time, bambino. You get it.’

Baird made a move towards the bed, then stiffened back as he heard a quick rush of feet on the stairs.

A voice shouted outside the door, ‘Open up!’

The door was flung open, catching Baird and pinning him behind it. The white light of a flashlight swept into the room and lit up the bed.

The man on the bed twisted his head around and glared along the beam of light. There was a savage, animal expression on his round, sweaty face.

‘Ain’t there any privacy in this goddamn world?’ he shouted violently. ‘Get the hell out of here!’

The two cops, one with a Thompson at his hip, the other with an automatic rifle, gaped at what they saw.

‘For crying out loud!’ one of them exclaimed, grinning. ‘If I’d known, mister, I’d’ve knocked.’

‘Get out!’ Toni shouted furiously. ‘Leave us alone!’

The two cops backed out of the room, laughing, pulled the door shut and Baird heard them clattering down the stairs.

‘You see,’ Toni said, ‘not even two goddamn cops with two goddamn guns!’

‘Let me go!’ the girl gasped. ‘Get out!’

‘Yeah?’ Toni said. ‘I go in a lit le while.’

Baird stood motionless, sweat running down his face, listening to the struggle going on in the darkness. He heard the girl catch her breath sharply. He slid the barrel of the gun into his hand, and took a step forward, but away from the support of the wall, his legs wouldn’t hold him, and he slithered down on hands and knees.

As he struggled to get back on his feet, Toni gave a sudden yell of pain.

‘You bitch!’ he shouted. ‘You’ve blinded me!’

‘Get out!’ the girl said, her voice low. ‘Let me go!’

The bed creaked; feet struck the floor.

‘I fix you for this!’ Toni snarled. He pul ed open the door.

In the light from the passage Baird saw blood running down Toni’s face. Four deep scratches, just missing his eyes, were like deep red ruts in his face.

The girl crouched on the bed. She was naked to the waist. Some of Toni’s blood was smeared on her shoulder. Her eyes smouldered as she glared at Toni.

‘Get out and stay out!’ she said, stil keeping her voice low.

Toni snarled at her, his hand to his face. He went out and slammed the door.

‘You all right?’ Baird asked hoarsely, crawling over to the bed.

He heard the girl slide off the bed on the opposite side.

‘I’m all right,’ she said curtly. ‘Are you bleeding again?’

‘I don’t think so.’ Baird pul ed himself up on to the bed and lay flat, his breath coming in long, painful gasps. ‘You didn’t have to do that for me.’

The girl didn’t say anything. He could hear her groping in the darkness. After a delay, the light went on.

She was fastening a shabby coat about her, and she looked sharply at him. They stared at each other for several seconds.

‘I’ll look at your wound,’ she said, coming over to him. ‘Does it hurt?’

‘A lit le,’ he said, watching her. ‘I don’t think it’s bleeding.’

She bent over him. Together they inspected the pad on his side. There was no sign of blood.

‘No. It’s al right,’ she said, and as she straightened he caught hold of her wrist. She remained bending over him, looking down at him.

‘Do you know what you’re doing?’ he asked. ‘They could put you in jail for this.’

She pulled free.

‘I don’t like coppers,’ she said, her face hard. ‘They won’t get you now.’

‘I guess I owe you something,’ Baird said uneasily. ‘If it hadn’t been for you I’d be dead now.’

She smiled cynically.

‘I dare say you’d have been bet er off,’ she said, turning away. ‘And you don’t owe me anything.’

‘What’s your name?’ he said, wiping his damp face with the back of his hand.

‘Anita Jackson,’ she said. ‘You’d bet er try and get some sleep.’

‘I’m Verne Baird,’ he told her. ‘Those punks think I kil ed a copper.’

She looked at him, but didn’t say anything.

‘You’d bet er get some sleep,’ she said after a long pause.

‘You’re a knock-out,’ he said, shut ing his eyes. ‘What did the cops do to you to make you hate them like this?’

‘That’s not your business,’ she returned curtly.

‘I guess that’s right. Give me an hour, and I’ll get out.’ He touched his side and winced. ‘I owe you something.’

‘You’l have to stay here until you’re better,’ she said, sit ing in the armchair. ‘You won’t get far with that wound.’

‘What about you?’ he said, opening his eyes and staring at her. ‘The longer I’m here the bigger risk you’re running. Suppose that fat guy comes back?’

She shook her head.

‘He won’t. I know Toni. He won’t come here again. I’m out al day. It’s only the nights. I don’t care.’

‘You’ve got to have the bed,’ Baird said, a lit le surprised he was thinking more of her than himself.

‘I’l lie on the floor.’

‘Oh, shut up!’ she said crossly. ‘Go to sleep and don’t talk so much.’ She pul ed another chair forward and put up her feet. ‘I’m al right here.’

‘Suit yourself,’ he said, shrugging. ‘I’l be okay by tomorrow.’

She reached out and turned off the light.

‘Go to sleep,’ she said.

Baird lay in the darkness, staring at the night sky through the open window. Below, the police still went on with their search for him. The voices, the trampling of feet and the hammering on doors became fainter as they moved farther down the street.

He felt an odd stirring inside him as he thought of the girl. She had saved him. Why? It was something right out of a book. He owed her something, and the thought made him uneasy. Gratitude was a new sensation to him. He felt restricted. No one had ever done anything for him up to now. He tried to push this feeling of indebtedness out of his mind, but he couldn’t. Sooner or later he knew he would have to do something about it. He felt in his hip pocket for the five hundred Rico had given him. He could always give her some of the money, he told himself. From the look of her, she could do with it.

Yes, he’d do that. But at the back of his mind, he was aware that money wouldn’t square himself with her. His mind recreated the struggle on the bed. That had been something no other woman he could imagine would have done, and she had done it for him. No, money wouldn’t square that.

The sound of her quick, light breathing told him she was asleep. She had guts, he thought: guts and nerve.

Eventually he fell asleep himself. He dreamed the girl in the drug store, with blood on her white coat, came and sat at the foot of the bed and looked at him. He wasn’t afraid of her.

I

Rico put down his pen and sat back with a little grunt. His swarthy, pock-marked face plainly showed his dissatisfaction. Five hundred and twenty dollars up on last month’s figures. Six months ago he would have been pleased, but now he knew it wasn’t enough. A month’s work for five hundred and twenty lousy dollars, he thought, pushing back his chair. He got to his feet and began to pace up and down. Not enough, he thought, scowling. Already he was overdrawn at the bank. His standard of living had gradually risen, and he was now living well beyond his income. Recently he had moved from his three-room apartment to a six-room one that cost him four times as much. His taste for tailored suits and silk shirts had given him a tailor’s bil he couldn’t set le without pinching himself for ready cash. He had bought himself a Roadmaster Buick, and that had to be paid for. The erotic pleasure he derived from several of his carefully selected hostesses was also a heavy drain on his income; and they had to be paid in cash.

Since the Bruce killing he had stopped dealing in illicit jewellery. He knew Olin was watching him, and until things cooled off a little, it would be unwise to tempt providence. He sadly missed the extra income from his activities as a fence.

He went over to the cellarette and mixed himself a whisky and soda. Three weeks had gone by since Kile had come to him with the mysterious proposition that might put fifteen grand in his pocket. For three weeks Rico had been hunting for Baird, but Baird seemed to have vanished off the face of the earth. No one had seen him: all Rico’s spies were hunting for him, and so far had nothing to report.

Kile was fast losing patience. He had been in last night and had bluntly said he would give Rico three more days to find Baird, and if he wasn’t successful the deal was off.

Fifteen grand! Rico sipped his drink and scowled down at his expensively shod feet. Where the hell was Baird? Why hadn’t he got into touch with Rico as he had promised? Had it been Baird who had been chased across the roofs and shot at that night the cop and girl in the drug store had been murdered?

How long ago was that? Rico thumbed back the leaves of his calendar. Twenty-three days. The papers had said the killer had been wounded. Maybe Baird had holed up somewhere and had died. Rico felt sweat start out on his forehead at the thought. If Baird was dead, then the hope of laying his hands on Kile’s fifteen grand was dead, too.

He finished his whisky, went over to the cellarette and made another. Then he lit a cigar and sat down at his desk again. There was nothing more he could do. Every petty crook in town was searching for Baird. Rico had offered a reward for reliable news of Baird, but so far no one had claimed it.

After he had finished his second whisky he decided he would take a turn in the restaurant. It was getting on for midnight, and it was time he showed himself. He went over to a vase of carnations, selected one, stuck it in his button-hole and surveyed himself in the mirror. In spite of his bald head, his pitted complexion and his bloodshot eyes, Rico was quite pleased with his appearance. He adjusted his silk handkerchief, shot his cuffs and turned to the door.

For a moment he stood completely still, scarcely believing his eyes, then with a sharp exclamation, he darted forward, holding out his hand.

‘Baird! Wel , damn it! I was only just this moment thinking about you. Where the hel have you been?’

Baird closed the door and walked across to Rico. He shook hands without enthusiasm, looked Rico up and down and then went over and dropped into the red leather armchair.

‘Get me a drink,’ he said curtly. ‘I need it.’

Rico gave him a quick, anxious glance. Baird was thinner than when he had last seen him, and his face fine drawn. There were smudges under his eyes as if he had been sleeping badly, and he looked surly.

‘I’ve been hunting al over for you,’ Rico said, hurriedly splashing whisky into a glass. ‘Where’ve you been?’

‘Out of town.’

‘Olin’s stil looking for you,’ Rico said, remembering with an anxious pang that Baird was a wanted man. ‘Maybe you shouldn’t have come here.’

Baird made an impatient gesture.

‘You don’t have to get steamed up. I’ve seen Olin.’

Rico stiffened.

‘You mean you’ve talked to him? When?’

‘Gimme that drink, can’t you?’ Baird snarled. ‘I’ve been at headquarters al the goddamn afternoon.’

Rico put the whisky on the desk by Baird’s hand and sat down.

‘What happened?’

Baird drank half the whisky, put the glass down and drew in a slow, deep breath. He reached out and helped himself to a cigarette from Rico’s box, lit it and stretched out his long legs.

‘I got myself a cast-iron alibi,’ he said. ‘Olin couldn’t bust it, so I walked out.’