A. Fair - Shills Can't Cash Chips

I showed apprehension. “Your husband?” I asked.

“No, no, I’m not married, silly. It’s— Quick, in here.”

She led me to a door and opened it. It was a long closet, stretching the length of the room, with feminine wearing apparel in one side and a wall bed which swung out on a door on the other side.

I slipped in among the garments and she swung the door closed. Then I heard the door of the apartment open and a man’s voice said, “What’s cooking?”

She laughed and said, “Coffee.”

I heard him come in and close the door. I heard the rustle of motion, then the man’s voice saying, “Hey, this chair is warm.”

“Of course it’s warm,” she laughed. “I was sitting there. I’m warm — or didn’t you know?”

“I know,” he said.

Again there was silence for a minute. Then the voice said, “What you been doing, Doris?”

“Shopping.”

“Anything new?”

“Not yet.”

“Something’s got to break pretty quick.”

“Uh-huh.”

I could hear her moving around in the kitchenette, then the aroma of coffee. I heard a cup against a saucer.

“Did you notice the ante’s gone up?”

“What ante?” she asked.

“For witnesses to the accident. It was a hundred dollars yesterday. Today’s paper makes it two hundred and fifty.”

“Oh,” she said.

There was quite an interval of silence. Then the man said, “You haven’t heard anything?”

“No, of course not, Dudd. I’d tell you the minute I had anything new.”

There was another interval of silence. Then the man’s voice said, “I’m afraid of that damned insurance company. If they keep messing around they’re going to upset the applecart.”

“And you think they’ll keep investigating?”

“If their suspicions once get aroused, they’ll investigate until hell freezes over,” he said. “We haven’t got too much time. You have to milk the cow when the milk’s there. When the cow goes dry there isn’t any use trying to milk her— What the hell’s burning?”

“Burning?”

“Yes. Smells like meat burning.”

“Oh, my God,” Doris said. I heard her quick steps on the floor, then the man’s voice said, “What the hell! What’s all this?”

The smell of burning meat permeated even into the closet.

“What the hell are you doing?” the man asked.

“I forgot,” she said. “I was cooking a steak. I left it in the broiler and forgot when you came in.”

“What were you cooking a steak for?”

“I was hungry.”

“What are you trying to pull?”

“Nothing. I was just cooking a steak. My God, haven’t I a right to cook a steak in my own apartment?”

I heard steps; heavy, authoritative, belligerent steps. Then a man’s voice said, “Okay, Sweetheart, I’ll just take a look around. I’ll just see for myself what’s going on here.”

I heard a door open and shut. I heard Doris saying, “Don’t, Dudd, don’t,” and then the sound of a body crashing against the wall as he evidently pushed her to one side.

Steps approached the closet where I was hiding.

I opened the door and stepped out.

The big man who was striding toward the closet came to an abrupt halt.

“You looking for me?” I asked.

“You’re damned right I’m looking for you,” he said, and started for me.

I stood looking at him, not moving.

Doris said, “Dudd, don’t. Dudd, let me explain.”

He had his eyes on mine, his lip curled with hatred. I saw the blow coming but didn’t try to dodge. The next one would have caught me anyway. I stood there and took it.

I felt myself sailing over backwards. The ceiling spun around in a half-circle, something batted the back of my head and I went out like a light.

When I came to there was still the smell of burnt meat all through the apartment. Doris was talking, her voice rapid and frightened. I heard the words from a distance. They registered in my ears but didn’t seem to mean anything to my brain. “Can’t you understand, Dudd? This is the man we’ve been looking for. We can use him. I picked him up and was getting acquainted with him. I wanted to make sure about him and then I was going to turn him over to you.

“Now you’ve gone ahead and spoiled things.”

“Who is he?” Dudd asked gruffly, his voice still suspicious.

“How do I know? His name is Donald and that’s all I know He is fresh out of San Quentin. He came here trying to get a job in the supermarket. One of the checkers there was in prison with him and Donald thought this man could help him, but the fellow wouldn’t have anything to do with him. I saw him give Donald the brush-off hard.

“That was when I stepped into the picture and—”

“How do you know he’s been in San Quentin?”

“He’s done time,” she said. “You can tell. He denies it but there’s no question about it. He’s been in trouble and he hasn’t been out very long. He’s just starved for decent companionship.”

“And what kind of companionship were you going to give him?”

“All right. If you want to know, I was going to get him over being lonely.”

“I’ll bet you were.”

“I was going to find out about him and then if everything was on the up and up I was going to tell you about it.”

“How do you know he was in San Quentin?”

“The way he got acquainted with me.”

“How was that?”

“My car was hemmed in by another car. He short-circuited the wires back of the switch so he could get the car back out of the way. I guess he’s a professional car thief. He had a short piece of wire in his pocket so he could jump the current back of the switch.”

There was a period of silence, then the man said, “Dammit, don’t try doing things alone! I’ve told you I’m furnishing the brains of this operation. All right, get a Turkish towel soaked in cold water and we’ll try and bring the guy to.”

Their voices still seemed to be coming from a long way off. It seemed to me they were discussing some subject that had nothing to do with me.

I heard the man’s feet, then water dripped on my forehead, then an icy cold towel was put on my face. Someone pulled the zipper on my pants, jerked my pants down, my undershirt up, and I felt the cold, wet towel on my stomach.

My stomach muscles tightened involuntarily. I gasped and opened my eyes.

The big man was bending over me, his expression one of puzzled curiosity. “Okay,” he said. “That does it. Get up.”

I made a couple of abortive attempts and he reached down, grabbed my shoulders, jerked me to a sitting position, then hooked a big ham of a hand in mine and jerked me to my feet.

He looked me over and abruptly commenced to laugh.

“What’s the trouble?” I asked.

“Stick your shirt in your pants and pull up the zipper,” he said.

He took the wet towel which had dropped to the floor and threw it across the apartment in the direction of the bathroom. It hit with a soggy thump on the waxed floor, and Doris ran and picked it up, vanished in the bathroom and was back in a moment, to stand looking at me apprehensively. “Are you... are you all right, Donald?”

“I don’t know,” I said, and tried to grin.

“No hard feelings,” the man said. “I’m Dudley Bedford. Who are you?”

“Donald.”

“What’s your last name?”

“Lam.”

“Come again.”

“Lam.”

“L-a-m-b?” he asked.

“Lam,” I said. “L-a-m.”

Bedford thought for a moment, then threw back his head and laughed. “I get it now,” he said. “You’re on the lam, huh?”

“No,” I told him, “that’s my name.”

“Got a driving license?”

“Not yet.”