Carolyn Banks - The New Black Mask (№6)

Nick. “Yes. Did Robert Landis know Pedro Dominges?”

Polly shakes her head and says, “Not that I—” She remembers something. “Once when Robert and I were going out together, we passed him and he said good evening to both of us by name and we couldn’t figure out how he knew Robert’s, and Robert made some joke about nobody being able to hide anything from a landlord.”

Nick. “Thanks.”

Polly and the detective go out.

Abrams. “That mean anything to you?”

Nick. “Not too much.”

Abrams. “Now, Mr. Graham, I’ve got to—” He breaks off to look at Nora and Nick, saying thoughtfully “I don’t know whether you two ought to be in here while I’m doing this or not.”

Nick, yawning, says, “I know where we ought to be. Come on, darling.”

Abrams. “Maybe you ought to stay. Now, Mr. Graham, I got to ask a lot of questions that you’re not going to like, but I got to ask ’em.”

David. “I understand.”

Abrams. “First off, you’re in love with Mrs. Landis. Right?” David starts to protest, then simply nods. “She in love with you?”

David, trying to speak calmly in spite of the painfulness of this inqury. “You’ll have to ask her.”

Abrams. “I will. Did she ever say she was?”

David. “Not — not since she was married.”

Abrams. “Before?”

David. “We were once engaged.”

Abrams. “Until Landis came along?”

David, in a very low voice. “Yes.”

Abrams. “Ever ask her to divorce him and marry you?”

David. “She knew how I felt — it wasn’t necessary to—”

Abrams. “But did you ever ask her?”

David. “I may have.”

Abrams. “And what did she say?”

David. “She never said she would.”

Abrams. “But you hoped she would. And you thought with him out of the way she would.”

David looks Abrams in the eye and says, “I didn’t kill Robert.”

Abrams. “I said you did? But you did pay him to go away.”

David. “Yes.”

Abrams. “Did she know about it?”

David. “No, not unless he told her.”

Abrams. “Were you and Landis on good terms?”

David. “Decidedly not.”

Abrams. “On very bad terms?”

David. “Very bad.”

The lights go out. In complete darkness Abrams’ voice is heard saying “Stay where you are — everybody!”

From the distance come the sounds of doors crashing, of glass breaking, of feet running, of men shouting; then close at hand furniture is knocked over, a door is slammed open, feet pound on the floor, two shots are fired, bodies thud and thrash around on the floor. Presently a cigarette lighter snaps on, held in Nick’s hand. Behind him, in the dim light, Nora’s and David’s faces can be seen. The three of therm are looking down at their feet. Abrams lies on the floor on his back. On top of him, mechanically chewing gum, his face serene, is Harold. One of his feet is on Abrams’ throat; both his hands are clamped around one of Abrams’ feet, twisting it inward and upward in the old Gotch toehold.

Nick says gently, “Harold, Harold, get up from there. Lieutenant Abrams isn’t going to like this.”

Harold, cheerfully. “You’re the boss.” He jumps up.

As Abrams gets up, a hand to his throat, Nick says, “My chauffeur. Stout fellow, eh?”

Abrams goes toward Harold, saying “What do you think you—”

Harold sticks his face into the lieutenant’s and says, “What am I supposed to do? I’m sitting out there and I see the lights go off. Nick and Mrs. Charles are up here and I know what kind of dump it is. Think I’m going to sit out there like a sissy till they throw the bodies out? How do I know you’re a copper?” Then more argumentatively as he goes on. “Suppose I did know it? How can I tell Nick ain’t got hisself in a jam with the police?”

Nick. “All right — but don’t you boys think you’d better stop wrangling long enough to find out who turned out the lights and did the shooting?” He asks Harold, “Did you run into anybody else on your way up?”

Harold. “Only the copper, here.”

The lights go on.

They are standing in the passageway outside Dancer’s apartment. As they start toward the front of the building, out of the restaurant comes one of Abrams’ men with Polly, Lum Kee, and Caspar, and behind them another detective, dragging a Chinese waiter.

Abrams asks in a complaining voice, “Well, now what have you been letting them do?”

One of the detectives, indicating the waiter, says, “Dancer had this monkey pull the switch and beat it out a window. Butch is hunting for him now.”

Abrams asks, “And what was that shooting?”

The other detective says sheepishly, “I guess it was me. I thought there was somebody running at me but I guess it was only me in the mirror.”

Abrams says wearily, “All right — but this time take them down to the Hall like I told you.”

David has taken Nick a little aside and is asking “Should I tell him about Selma and the gun?”

Nick. “It depends on whether you think she did it.”

David. “Of course not — do you?”

Nick. “No. Then the only thing to do is to tell him everything.”

At this point, Abrams, returning from seeing his men off, says, “I asked you people not to go off whispering in corners all the time.”

David. “Lieutenant Abrams, I’ve something to tell you. I happened...”

Abrams interrupts him. “All right — but we’re all going down to the Hall where we can talk in peace. I don’t like the high jinks that come off here.”

Nora yawns.

Abrams. “Sorry, Mrs. Charles. I won’t keep you any longer than I have to but we’ve got to do things regular.”

A cheap hotel room. Phil is sitting at a table playing solitaire with a gun on the table. He is smoking nervously and there is a pile of cigarette butts on a saucer near him. Presently there is a knock on the door. He picks up the gun and stares at the door with frightened eyes but doesn’t answer. The knock is repeated, louder. After a little pause, Dancer’s voice comes through, saying “This is Dancer — will you open the door or will I kick it in?”

Slowly, as if afraid to open the door and afraid not to, Phil gets up and, holding the gun behind him, goes to the door and unlocks it. Dancer pushes the door open violently, knocking Phil back against the wall, then kicks the door shut; and standing close to Phil, says with threatening mildness, “What did I tell you about trying to cut yourself in on somebody else’s game?”

Outside the Hall of Justice — broad daylight. Harold is asleep in Nick’s car. Nick, Nora, and Abrams come out of the building surrounded by a flock of reporters.

Abrams is saying to the reporters “Lay off us. I told you anything you get, you’ll have to get from the DA.” He then says to Nick and Nora, “I could use a lot of breakfast. How about you folks?”

Nick looks at his watch and says, “I could use a lot of sleep.”

Nora is too sleepy to say anything.

Abrams insists. “Yeah, but you got to eat anyhow, don’t you, and there’s a pretty good place not far from here.”

Nick asks, “You mean you want to ask some more questions?”

Abrams. “No, not exactly, but there are a couple of points.”

Nick. “We’ll drop you wherever you’re going and you can ask them on the way — but if you get wrong answers it’s because I’m talking in my sleep.”

As they are about to get into Nick’s car, a taxicab drives up and Dancer gets out. Abrams goes over and grabs him by the shoulder, asking “Where have you been?”

Dancer. “Hiding — where’d you think I’ve been? The lights go out and somebody starts shooting — I haven’t even got a gun — I don’t know whether somebody’s trying to get me or if I’m being framed by you people, or what — so I did the only smart thing I could think of and played the duck and waited for daylight so I can at least see who’s shooting at me.”