Robert Alter - 100 Malicious Little Mysteries

Manuel took a thick, black cigar out of a box on the desk, and lit it with a wooden match from his pocket. “Would you also like a cigar?” he asked his brother politely. Philippe shook his head.

Time passed. Manuel lit another cigar from the stub of the first one, and then a third from the stub of the second. The street outside was dark and silent. Suddenly there was the sound of breaking glass, and then of running feet. A loud cracking sound was heard, and the feet stopped running.

“It’s almost time,” Manuel said.

From a few blocks away there were new noises, and then more gunshots. Soon the siren of a fire-engine filled the night with its wail.

“Time,” Manuel announced. He dragged his brother to the door of the shop, and then outside to the slightly set-in doorway, and propped him up against the wall.

“Good-bye, Philippe.”

Manuel took three steps away from the doorway, turned and raised his pistol as though he were engaged in a duel. He took a last, deep drag on the cigar, and...

At first they thought it was just another looter. “There he is,” one of the Guardias said to his partner, “the one I shot at last night. I told you I saw a burning cigarette.”

“Cigar,” the second one said, looking down.

“Look over here,” the first one called, “there’s someone tied up in this doorway.”

The man was tall and pale, with a wooden expression and hooded eyes. He would have been perfect in the movie role of Jack-the-Ripper. Myrna Calvert hesitated before letting him in, then seemed to decide it was silly to let his appearance bother her.

“Come in, Mr. Moore,” she said coolly, stepping aside to let him go past her into the apartment and closing the door behind him.

He glanced around the actress’ front room, approving its tasteful furnishings. When she invited him to sit, he gave his head a nearly imperceptible shake.

“I won’t be here that long,” he said, barely moving his lips. “I’ll just say what I have to say and leave. But first, I didn’t quite tell you the truth over the phone.”

The woman’s green eyes narrowed. “You don’t really have any life-or-death information for me?”

“Oh, that part was the truth. Only my name isn’t Moore. I’m not going to tell you my real name.”

Myrna’s lovely features were marred by a frown. She studied him suspiciously.

He said, “Before I explain just what this is all about, I want you to know why I’m telling you. I’ve seen every play you’ve ever been in, Miss Calvert. I think you’re the finest actress and the loveliest woman who ever walked on a stage.”

Myrna’s back stiffened. “If this is just some trick to get an autograph—”

“It isn’t,” he interrupted. “I just don’t want you to be scared of me. You would be if I told you why I’m here before letting you know how I feel about you. I want you to know I wouldn’t harm you for anything.”

The actress looked surprised. “Why should you harm me?”

“It’s my business,” he said dryly. “I belong to an organization which disposes of people for a handsome fee.”

Myrna’s eyes gradually widened until they were enormous. In an incredulous tone she said, “You mean you’ve been hired to kill me?”

“My organization has. I’ve been assigned the job. I don’t intend to do it.”

After a period of shocked silence, she asked faintly, “Who wants me dead?”

The man raised his eyebrows. “I figured you’d know that. I was just given the job, not the reason.”

Myrna paced to a sideboard, took a cigarette from a box and lit it. “Why have you risked telling me this, Mr. whatever-your-name-is? Won’t your organization be angry with you?”

“I don’t plan on them finding it out.”

“Suppose I called the police and asked for protection? Wouldn’t they know then?”

He shrugged. “You could probably get me killed, if you’re that ungrateful. Are you?”

She studied him with an undecided expression on her face. “You’re taking this risk just because you’re a fan of mine?”

“A little more than that, Miss Calvert.”

“Oh? What?”

“I’ve been in love with you for five years,” he said quietly. “Don’t let it upset you. It’s from a distance and I never expected to meet you. I don’t plan to bother you. When I walk out of here you’ll never see me again. I just don’t want you dead.”

After contemplating him for a time, she said, “I’m flattered. And very lucky too, I suspect. You look like an efficient killer.”

“I am,” he said dryly.

She took a quick, nervous puff on her cigarette and stubbed it out. “You don’t know any details of this plot?”

“There was a condition attached,” he said. “I’m supposed to tail you. If you caught a plane for Europe tonight, I was supposed to forget it. If you didn’t, I was supposed to move in and do the job.”

Her nostrils flared. “Max Fenner!” she said.

“The theatrical producer?” he inquired.

She gave a jerky nod. “I knew he hated me, but I didn’t think he’d go this far. He must be mad.”

“What’s his beef?”

“He’s over a barrel,” she said viciously. “I want the lead in his new play. He’s already signed Lynn Jordan, and he knows she’ll sue his pants off if he reneges on the contract. But I’m in a position to cause him even more trouble if he doesn’t play ball.”

He said, “I thought I read you were supposed to make some picture in France.”

Myrna made an impatient gesture. “That’s peanuts compared to the lead in Make Believe. Max knows I have no intention of catching that plane. I told him yesterday if he didn’t bring around a contract by this evening, I’d talk to his wife.”

He examined her curiously. “You’re blackmailing him into giving you the part?”

“This is a cutthroat business, mister. You get to the top any way you can. Lynn Jordan signed her contract on Max’s casting couch. I’m in a position to wreck his marriage if he doesn’t break the contract and sign me. There isn’t an actress on Broadway who wouldn’t use that position in the same way I am. It isn’t amoral, because there aren’t any morals in the theatrical business.”

He shrugged. “It’s nothing to me. You ought to know something, though.”

“What?”

“You’re not off the hook just because I’m turning down the job. The organization will assign somebody else. And maybe he won’t be a secret admirer.”

Myrna paled a little. “They won’t just forget it when you back out?”

He shook his head. “Not a chance.”

“And if I ask for police protection, they might kill you?”

“Uh-huh. It wouldn’t save you anyway. You’d get by tonight, maybe, but the cops can’t guard you forever. They’d get to you eventually. I doubt that the cops would believe you anyway. They’d think it was a publicity stunt. And I’m not about to back up your story. Tipping you off is as far as I can afford to go.”

Nervously she lit another cigarette, immediately punched it out again. “What do you think I ought to do?”

“You could save everybody trouble by catching that plane. I wouldn’t even have to turn down the job if you did that. I could just report that you caught it.”

“And miss the best part I ever had a chance at?”

He shrugged again. “My outfit is pretty efficient. You won’t star in anything if you’re in the morgue.”

Myrna paced back and forth. “Suppose I hired you as a bodyguard?”

He gave her a bleak smile. “I might as well commit suicide. They’d just get both of us.”

She stopped pacing, lifted another cigarette from the box, then dropped it back again without lighting it. “You don’t think I have a chance?”