Ричард Деминг - Manhunt. Volume 1, Number 2, February, 1953

“No. I got the pitch.”

“Any questions?”

“Just one,” I said. “Renzo wants me to finger Vetter too. He isn’t putting out any two grand for it. He just wants it, see? Suppose he catches up with me? What then?”

Carboy shouldn’t’ve hesitated. He shouldn’t have let that momentary look come into his eyes because it told me everything I wanted to know. Renzo was bigger than the whole pack of them and they got the jumps just thinking about it. All by himself he held a fifty-one percent interest and they were moving slowly when they bucked him. The little guy threw down the fresh drink with a quick motion of his hand and brought the smile back again. In that second he had done a lot of thinking and spilled the answer straight out. “We’ll take care of Mark Renzo,” he said. “Rocco, you and Lou take the kid home.”

So I went out to the car and we drove back to the slums again. In the rear the reflections from the headlights of another car showed and the killers in it would be waiting for me to show the red handker-chief Carboy had handed me. I didn’t know them and unless I was on the ball every minute I’d never get to know them. But they’d always be there, shadows that had no substance until the red showed, then the ground would get sticky with an even brighter red and maybe some of it would be mine.

They let me out two blocks away. The other car didn’t show at all and I didn’t look for it. My feet made hollow sounds on the sidewalk, going faster and faster until I was running up the steps of the house and when I was inside I slammed the door and leaned against it, trying hard to stop the pain in my chest.

Three-fifteen, the clock said. It ticked monotonously in the stillness, trailing me upstairs to my room. I eased inside, shut the door and locked it, standing there in the darkness until my eyes could see things. Outside a truck clashed its gears as it pulled up the hill and off in the distance a horn sounded.

I listened to them; familiar sounds, my face tightening as a not-so-familiar sound echoed behind them. It was a soft thing, a whisper that came at regular intervals in a choked-up way. Then I knew it was a sob coming from the other room and I went back to the hall and knocked on Nick’s door.

His feet hit the floor, stayed there and I could hear his breathing coming hard. “It’s Joe — open up.”

I heard the wheeze his breath made as he let it out. The bedsprings creaked, he fell once getting to the door and the bolt snapped back. I looked at the purple blotches on his face and the open cuts over his eyes and grabbed him before he fell again. “Nick! What happened to you?”

“I’m... okay.” He steadied himself on me and I led him back to the bed. “You got... some friends, pal.”

“Cut it out. What happened? Who ran you through? Damn it, who did it?”

Nick managed to show a smile. It wasn’t much and it hurt, but he made it. “You... in pretty big trouble, Joe.”

“Pretty big.”

“I didn’t say nothing. They were here... asking questions. They didn’t... believe what I told them, I guess. They sure laced me.”

“The miserable slobs! You recognize them?”

His smile got sort of twisted and he nodded his head. “Sure, Joe... I know ’em. The fat one sat in... the car while they did it.” His mouth clamped together hard. “It hurt... brother, it hurt!”

“Look,” I said. “We’re...”

“Nothing doing. I got enough. I don’t want no more. Maybe they figured it’s enough. That Renzo feller... he got hard boys around. See what they did, Joe? One... used a gun on me. You shoulda stood with Gordon, Joe. What the hell got into you to mess with them guys?”

“It wasn’t me, Nick. Something came up. We can square it. I’ll nail that fat slob if it’s the last thing I do.”

“It’ll be the last thing. They gimme a message for you, pal. You’re to stick around, see? You get seen with any other big boys in this town... and that’s all. You know?”

“I know. Renzo told me that himself. He didn’t have to go through you.”

“Joe...”

“Yeah?”

“He said for you to take a good look... at me. I’m an example. A little one. He says to do what he told you.”

“He knows what he can do.”

“Joe... for me. Lay off, huh? I don’t feel so good. Now I can’t work for a while.”

I patted his arm, fished a hundred buck bill out of my pocket and squeezed it into his hand. “Don’t worry about it,” I told him.

He looked at the bill unbelievingly, then at me.

“Dough can’t pay for... this, Joe. Kind of... stay away from me... for awhile anyway, okay?” He smiled again, lamely this time. “Thanks for the C anyway. We been pretty good buddies, huh?”

“Sure, Nick.”

“Later we’ll be again. Lemme knock off now. You take it easy.” His hands came up to his face and covered it. I could hear the sobs starting again and cursed the whole damn system up and down and Renzo in particular. I swore at the filth men like to wade in and the things they do to other men. When I was done I got up off the bed and walked to the door.

Behind me Nick said, “Joey...”

“Right here.”

“Something’s crazy in this town. Stories are going around... there’s gonna be a lot of trouble. Everybody is after... you. You’ll... be careful?”

“Sure.” I opened the door, shut it softly and went back to my room. I stripped off my clothes and lay down in the bed, my mind turning over fast until I had it straightened out, then I closed my eyes and fell asleep.

My landlady waited until a quarter to twelve before she gave it the business on my door. She didn’t do it like she usually did it. No jarring smashes against the panels, just a light tapping that grew louder until I said, “Yeah?”

“Mrs. Stacey, Joe. You think you should get up? A man is downstairs to see you.”

“What kind of a man?”

This time the knob twisted slowly and the door opened a crack. Her voice was a harsh whisper that sounded nervous. “He’s got on old clothes and a city water truck is parked outside. He didn’t come to look at my water.”

I grinned at that one. “I’ll be right down,” I said. I splashed water over my face, shaved it close and worked the adhesive off the bridge of my nose. It was swollen on one side, the blue running down to my mouth. One eye was smudged with purple.

Before I pulled on my jacket I stuffed the wad of dough into the lining through the tear in the sleeve, then I took a look in Nick’s room. There were traces of blood on his pillow and the place was pretty upset, but Nick had managed to get out somehow for a day’s work.

The guy in the chair sitting by the window was short and wiry looking. There was dirt under his fingernails and a stubble on his chin. He had a couple of small wrenches in a leather holster on his belt that bulged his coat out but the stuff was pure camouflage. There was a gun further back and I saw the same thing Mrs. Stacey saw. The guy was pure copper with badges for eyes.

He looked at me, nodded and said, “Joe Boyle?”

“Suppose I said no?” I sat down opposite him with a grin that said I knew all about it and though I knew he got it nothing registered at all.

“Captain Gerot tells me you’ll cooperate. That true?”

There was a laugh in his eyes, an attitude of being deliberately polite when he didn’t have to be. “Why?” I asked him. “Everybody seems to think I’m pretty hot stuff all of a sudden.”

“You are, junior, you are. You’re the only guy who can put his finger on a million dollar baby that we want bad. So you’ll cooperate.”

“Like a good citizen?” I made it sound the same as he did. “How much rides on Vetter and how much do I get?”