John MacDonald - The Good Old Stuff

“Let me show you something, Peter. It’s a letter that Dan’s wife got from the U.S. colonel out here. It’s what you’ve got to counteract.”

I got up and walked over to the bureau. He had to move his arm to give me room. I fumbled in the top drawer and cursed about not being able to find it. I looked in the bureau mirror and waited until I could see his head tilt back as he drained the last of the drink. I spun and chopped down hard with my right fist, swinging it like a hammer. It had to be good. It was. It hit him flush on the side of the jaw. My follow-through knocked the empty glass across the room. He was stunned but not completely out. I dropped my right fist and swung it up in an uppercut that straightened him out in the chair. He sagged back into it, completely limp.

I ran over to the door and locked it. Then I stripped the cover off my bed and took a sheet. I ripped it down the middle, the long way. Then I yanked him off the chair and tossed him on the floor, half in and half out of the bathroom. There was a transom over the high bathroom door. I tied one end of the half sheet firmly around his wrist and then lifted him up so that I could throw the other end over the transom. I caught it and pulled down with all my weight. It lifted him until his toes barely touched the floor. I knotted the sheet. Then I did the same with the other wrist. His head sagged forward.

Then I had to wait for him to regain consciousness. I had hit him a little harder than I had intended. I grew impatient. Finally I drew a glass of water and threw it into his face. He tried to lift his head. The second glass brought him around.

He stared at me, and then he craned his neck and looked up at the knots and the transom. He looked back at me, his eyes wide and startled. “Now look here, Garry, this better not be some kind of a joke.”

“It isn’t a joke. It’s the first smart thing I’ve done on this island.”

He smiled. He looked tender and forgiving. “I say, old man, this heat here is pretty grim. Now be a good chap and cut me down. This arrangement hurts my wrists. We’ll go see a doctor, right now.”

“You’re clever, Kaymark, but I can add two and two. You’ve made a few slips, you know.”

“Come on now, this is silly. Cut me down and I’ll forgive you the whole thing.”

“Wait a minute, Peter. You like mirrors, so you can watch that pretty face of yours. I think you ought to get a look at it now.”

I grabbed the heavy bureau and twisted it around so that it stood about eight feet away from him. I tilted the mirror until it was at the right angle. Then I walked forward and slugged him. I hit him high on the cheekbone, turning my fist as it hit so that I could be certain of splitting the skin.

Then I stepped back and waved at the mirror. “Take a look, Pretty Boy.”

His eyes widened and then narrowed. “That was cheap, Garry.”

“Sure! Cut-rate Garry. Cheap and practical. The working man’s thug. Now comes a little something that I happened to think of back in the January Club. I tell you this little something and, if you act dumb about it, I tap you again, in a new spot. Then I tell you something else. You understand?”

“I understand what you mean, but it’s senseless!”

“Maybe to you. You haven’t heard all. I’ll do work on that pretty face that no plastic surgery’ll ever fix. I’ll tell you when I come to the last point. If you don’t start talking then, I put my heart into one dilly that ought to spread your nose wide enough to touch the doorframes. Okay?”

“Please cut me down.” His composure was gone. His voice was getting high and thin. I knew that it wasn’t helping him any to be able to see the quick swelling of the spot on the cheek where I had nailed him.

“Now for point number one. Remember when I told you that I thought Constance had been drowned by someone? Your normal reaction would have been to go back out and check the body again to look for any signs of violence. You didn’t.”

“That’s absurd. I’d already checked the body.”

“But you claimed that you checked it thinking that it was an accidental drowning. Where’d you like the next one, sonny?” I didn’t give him a chance to answer. It made me feel faintly sick to hit a man who couldn’t hit back, but it had to be done. I swung hard and hit the other cheek. I made a better cut across the cheekbone. It began to bleed immediately. He tried to shake his head to clear it, but the sheets held his upper arms too tightly against his ears.

“Point number two is minor. If you don’t work with the police, how did you know Conny had drowned? Who’d inform you? Why would you be out there if swimming isn’t recommended this time of year? You popped up too quick. Ready to talk a little?”

“This is mad, Garry. Stop it now before you go too far.”

I had to mark him up badly and save the delicate nose for last. I planted a short choppy right on the corner of his mouth. It smacked hard enough to swing him back a little. He shut his eyes and groaned.

“The next pernt, dearie, is the charming way you decided that all my plans concerning the January Club were no good. Even I could see that the smart thing to do would be to gather up all those jokers and sweat something out of them.”

“But you can’t handle these people that way. They never talk. Damn you, stop all this, you’re cutting me.”

“Sure, I’m cutting you. And sure it’s a bloody shame it is, me fine bhoy.”

I slammed another one into his mouth. I felt teeth give under my knuckles and the blood spurted across the back of my hand. I saw him glance beyond me into the mirror. He was twisted around the eyes like a small boy trying not to cry.

“The next point, Peter. Who knew about my bribing the boy at the door? Only you. Certainly that boy looked too smart to let anybody else know. And he got it the same night. Very very peculiar.”

“Wait!” he screamed. “They must have found out some other way. They had to find out some other way.”

I ignored him. It made me ill, but it had to be done. I hit him hard over the right eye, hard enough to split the cartilage. I had to plan on his being too inexperienced to know that the marks I was making would be gone in a few months, leaving possibly a few tiny white scars.

“Another point. I don’t think that the American consulate employs any local help until their honesty and loyalty has been pretty well checked. O’Dell said that an employee of the consulate tipped him off about my note. Nuts! I told you about it, and you told O’Dell. Talking yet?”

He surprised me. He pulled himself up a little straighter and looked squarely into my eyes. His face was as firm as it could be in its mangled condition. A moment before I had thought he was going to crack. I leaned on the next one a little more. The meaty smack of my fist against his face was loud in the room. It jolted his head back. When he straightened up, the other eyebrow was streaming.

“Another little fact. I was watching O’Dell. He wasn’t going to try anything. He was completely relaxed. You gave it to him because he was going to say too much. He never stood a chance. Cold-blooded murder, and not the first one.”

His eyes widened as I pulled my fist back. He was too busy being brave to do any talking. I grinned as I let it go. I smacked it into the least damaged portion of his mouth.

“Another point. You didn’t want me to talk to the police. That Saxon looks smart. Maybe, if he got enough dope, he might see through you.”

Again on the mouth. He started to curse me. He cursed through swelling battered lips that distorted his words. I stood back and let him finish. His voice got hoarse and indistinct and finally faded away completely. The blood was dripping onto his tunic.