Макс Коллинз - Shoot the Moon (and more)

“On what motive?”

“Some Mob plant would point out Susan Stewart’s resemblance to Karen, and of my mental hang-up about Karen, supported by some stunts I pulled in the service following my getting jilted. And it would be assumed by all that I’d simple wigged out, killed Miss Stewart in the process of losing my marbles over her resemblance to an old love of mine.”

“Do you really think they could make that stick in a courtroom?”

“Hell no. They’d have to kill me and make it look like I shot the Stewart girl and then committed suicide or something. No, Hal wasn’t about to let me leave that room alive. Vin was used to lure me there; some time was allowed for Vin to get well away; and then Hal came back to do his number.”

“What about me?”

“They probably set it up so that various people in the neighborhood saw you going into that building earlier, of your own free will — and then the late Miss Stewart would be substituted for you in the dead of night. I guess. Otherwise I don’t really know why they chose to drag somebody else in who they’d just have to get rid of later, but they obviously did. Lives don’t mean a hell of a lot to them and to those guys you and me are just two more expendables.”

She gripped me tighter and quietly wept into my chest until she fell asleep. I sat and smoked and stroked her hair now and then and kept my shaking hand with the gun in it leveled at the center point between the barricaded doors.

I smoked down to two cigarettes.

I waited.

I tried praying for a while.

Dawn wasn’t far off, not more than half an hour.

Suzie woke up and we had the last cigarettes and talked for a while and kissed and made love again and talked for a while longer.

We talked on and on, and she asked what would happen if she got pregnant, and told her it was about the least of our worries at the moment. I got to know her pretty well, don’t really have time to tell you all about her; there are things you’ll just never be able to know, because you never got to meet her.

She was still holding on to me, tight, when the voices came.

“Hold your fire — police. All is under control. Hold your fire.”

I breathed a sigh of relief.

But then how the hell was I to know for sure?

Well, I didn’t care. I just didn’t care. I’d hold my fire for a moment while I saw if it was really the cops or not, what the hell could that hurt.

They came in and I held my fire.

It was Vin and two others and Vin fired an automatic and a tongue of flame came out of the end of it and settled in Suzie’s right breast.

She didn’t have time to say anything before she died.

I saw Vin coming at me starting to say something and I remembered what he’d told me and I raised the .32 and aimed.

The bullet went in his forehead and he died much too quickly.

They have left me in this room, unguarded and untied. They figure me too much a coward to make a break for it or try suicide. Or maybe just too unimaginative to kill myself with a bunch of wooden crates. And they think it’s amusing to make me share the room with the corpse of a woman whom I might have loved.

Dawn came, went.

They haven’t caught me writing on this notepad with this felt-tip yet, unless they know and think it’ll keep me out of trouble. I’ve been writing for hours now and it must be mid-morning. I have to write small but I have to write. I have to get it all said so I can leave it here where someone might find it and go after the men who’ve done these things.

One of them came in a while ago, one I hadn’t seen before, and asked me some things; in the process, he explained some of it. Most of it came out like Suzie and I had figured, but some of the details would never be revealed to me. Some of it had died with Vin.

I still don’t know for sure who these bastards are, but it’s safe to say they’re with the Mob or something. Hard to tell. Writing so small like this in the dark and all gets my head going off in different directions.

I have to write all the time and not stop much because when I do I look over at Suzie. And she’s dead.

A couple of them came in and were arguing about what exactly to do with me. One just wanted me dead, another was still trying to figure a way to use me to cement the cracks Suzie and I made in their plans. I get the feeling we really fouled up things up for them. That’s some reward, I guess, but damn little.

I wonder if the real Suzie Stewart is dead or alive?

Not that it really matters. None of it really matters, does it? Not now.

Karen? Is that you, Karen?

No?

Suzie? Suzie.

Hell, I like you better, anyway, Suzie.

They’re coming now, Suzie, I hear them in that other room, the one beyond this one, I hear them, Suzie and they’re—