James Chase: Fast Buck

‘What did he die of?’ Olin asked, pul ing fiercely on his cigar.

‘Heart failure, from the look of him,’ the intern said. ‘I’d say he’s been dead for two or three days.’

‘What’s the stink in the car, for Gawd’s sake?’

‘Gangrene,’ the intern told him. ‘It’s not from this guy.’

Olin stroked his jaw.

‘Pret y bad?’

‘I’d say it was bad. Whoever owns that stench is about ready for a wreath.’

A patrolman came up and saluted Olin.

‘Lieutenant, there’s a guy wanting to speak to you,’ he said. ‘Name of Dal as. Shal I let him through?’

Olin hesitated, then shrugged.

‘Yeah, let him through.’

Dallas joined Olin.

‘What have you got?’ he asked, looking at the body on the stretcher.

‘Hater,’ Olin said. ‘Not much doubt about it. O’Brien here has seen a picture of him.’

Dallas blew out his cheeks.

‘That’s sweet, isn’t it? The only guy in the world who knows where the Chittabad collection is, and he has to croak. Think he told Baird where it was cached before he handed in his pail?’

Olin shrugged.

‘Looks like Baird’s badly hurt. Someone who’s been in that car’s got gangrene. He couldn’t have got far.’

Dallas looked thoughtfully down the street at the gaping crowd. Then he frowned, peered forward, stared, and turning, caught hold of Olin’s arm.

‘I think I can guess where Baird is,’ he said. ‘See that girl in the front row? The one with a scarf over her head.’

Olin looked in the direction.

‘What of her?’

‘She’s Baird’s girl. She lives across the way. No. 30, on the top floor. It’s my bet Baird’s up there right now.’

‘How the hel do you know all this?’ Olin snarled. ‘If you’ve been holding out on me…!’

‘Burns found out about her,’ Dal as explained. ‘I didn’t know until tonight.’

‘There are a lot of things you didn’t know until tonight,’ Olin said angrily. ‘You’re sure that’s Baird’s girl?’

‘Yeah.’

Olin turned to O’Brien.

‘That girl with the scarf on her head. Bring her over here.’

‘Miss Jackson?’ O’Brien looked startled. ‘Excuse me, Lieutenant, you’re sure you want her?’

Olin glared at him.

‘That’s what I said! What is she — untouchable or something?’

‘Sorry, Lieutenant,’ O’Brien said uncomfortably. ‘I know most people on my beat, and she’s a good girl. She works hard and keeps to herself. She’s never been in any trouble, and that’s saying something in this street.’

‘Wel , she’s in trouble now,’ Olin snapped. ‘Bring her here.’

O’Brien saluted and walked stiffly down the street. He went up to Anita, said something, took her elbow and brought her back to Olin.

Anita’s dark eyes were scared, but she didn’t flinch from Olin’s hard gaze.

‘You know Verne Baird?’ he snapped.

‘I’ve met him,’ Anita said.

‘Yeah? Didn’t he hole up in your room about a month ago?’ Olin demanded aggressively. ‘You’d better not lie. I’ve got a witness.’

She looked quickly away from him, and her eyes took in the stretcher. The intern was dropping a blanket across Hater’s dead face. She had a glimpse of the swollen, grotesque mask before the blanket hid it.

Her hands went to her breasts, and the colour drained out of her face. She looked appealingly at O’Brien, claiming his at ention because he was a familiar stranger among unfamiliar ones.

‘Who — who is it?’ she asked.

‘Did you hear what I said?’ Olin barked. ‘I asked you…’

‘Who is that, please?’ she repeated, looking at O’Brien, and pointed at the still figure on the stretcher.

‘A guy named Hater,’ O’Brien told her. ‘But answer the Lieutenant’s question.’

‘Hater? Is he dead?’

There was something about the way she was holding herself and the sudden horror in her eyes that stopped Olin from grabbing and shaking her. He glanced at O’Brien and nodded.

‘Yes, he’s dead. You don’t have to worry about him,’ O’Brien said. ‘Tel the Lieutenant about Baird.’

Slowly, as if she was sleep-walking, Anita walked over to the stretcher.

The intern, a young, red-faced fellow, looked up impatiently.

‘Can I see him, please?’ she asked.

Surprised, he looked across at Olin, who signalled to him.

‘He’s not pretty,’ the intern said grudgingly, as if he were jealous of sharing his world of horrors with any outsider.

He lifted the blanket.

Anita looked for a long moment at the dead, swollen face. She seemed to go suddenly limp, and O’Brien went quickly to her side, taking her arm. He turned her away, so her back was to the body on the stretcher.

‘What happened to him?’ she asked, her fingers digging into O’Brien’s wrist. ‘He had only two more years to serve. He wouldn’t have run away.’

‘What is this?’ Olin said, exasperated.

As he made a move to go to her, Dallas pulled him back.

‘Let me talk to her,’ he said urgently, and before Olin could stop him, he was at Anita’s side.

‘He was kidnapped from prison,’ he told her. ‘They wanted to find out where he had hidden the Chittabad collection. Baird was paid to get him out of jail. It was Baird who killed him.’

She stiffened and pushed away from O’Brien.

‘Baird did that?’

‘That’s right. Do you know Hater?’

She jerked up her head and looked defiantly at Dallas.

‘Of course I know him. He was my father.’

Before Dallas could collect his startled wits, a patrolman with an elderly woman came quickly across the street towards Olin.

‘Lieutenant,’ the patrolman said, ‘this woman says she’s seen Baird.’

‘Where?’ Olin demanded, turning to the woman.

‘He was going to the top floor of my house,’ the woman said excitedly. ‘A big man; he seemed ill, and he was carrying a gun.’

‘Where’s your house?’

‘No. 30. That’s it over there,’ and she pointed.

‘You say he had a gun: what kind of a gun?’

‘I don’t know: a sort of machine-gun.’

‘Okay,’ Olin said, he waved the patrolman and woman away. ‘Come on, boys, let’s get him.’

‘Wait a minute,’ Dallas said, catching hold of Olin’s arm. ‘You don’t think you’ll take him alive?’

‘I don’t care if he’s alive or dead,’ Olin said.

‘Maybe he knows where the collection is. You’ve got to get him alive.’

Olin stared at him,

‘I don’t give a damn about the collection. I’m getting him dead or alive.’

‘Can I quote you?’ Dal as said. ‘The insurance companies will love to know the name of the officer who gypped them out of four million.’

Olin threw his cigar butt in the street.

‘Will you get out of my way! I’ve had about enough of you!’

‘Without the gun you could take him alive,’ Dallas said, speaking quickly. ‘Let me go up there and try and get the gun. I can tell him I’m from Miss Jackson. He might listen to me.’

Anita touched Olin’s arm.

‘I’ll get his gun,’ she said quietly. ‘He won’t hurt me. Then you can come up and take him.’

‘You don’t know what you’re saying. This guy’s dangerous,’ Olin said, exasperated. ‘Will you two get out of my hair?’

‘Let her do it,’ Dallas said. ‘You can be right behind her. If he starts blasting with that gun, he could kill half your men before you got him.’

‘I tell you she’s not going up there…!’ Olin began.

Anita turned suddenly and began to run across the street towards the house.

As Olin opened his mouth to shout after her, Dallas stumbled against him, knocking him off balance.