Erle Gardner - Erle Stanley Gardner’s The Case of the Murderer’s Bride and Other Stories

George hurried out of the shadows and opened the door.

“What’s the idea of keeping me waiting, Georgie?” Larry asked with a solicitude that was overdone to the point of sarcasm. “Don’t you want to be chummy with your old friend?”

George said, “Larry, I’m on the square, on the legit. I’m staying that way.”

Larry threw back his head and laughed. “You know what happens to rats, Georgie.”

“I’m no rat, Larry. I’m going straight, that’s all. I’ve paid my debts to the law and to you.”

Larry showed big yellowed teeth as he grinned. “Ain’t that nice, Georgie. All your debts paid! Now how about that National Bank job where Skinny got in a panic because the cashier didn’t get ’em up fast enough?”

“I wasn’t in on that, Larry.”

Larry’s grin was triumphant. “Says you! You were handling the getaway car. The cops got one fingerprint from the rear-view mirror. The F.B.I. couldn’t classify that one print, but if anyone ever started ’em checking it with your file, Georgie, your fanny would be jerked off that cushioned stool by the cash register and transferred to the electric chair — the hot seat, Georgie... You never did like the hot seat, Georgie.”

George Ollie licked dry lips. His forehead moistened with sweat. He wanted to say something but there was nothing he could say.

Larry went on talking. “I pulled a couple of jobs here. I’m going to pull just one more. Then I’m moving in with you, Georgie. I’m your new partner. You need a little protection. I’m giving it to you.”

Larry swaggered over to the cash register, rang up No Sale, pulled the drawer open, and raised the hood over the roll of paper to look at the day’s receipts.

“Now, Georgie,” he said, regarding the empty cash drawer, “you shouldn’t have put away all that dough. Where is it?”

George Ollie gathered all the reserves of his self-respect. “Go to hell,” he said. “I’ve been on the square and I’m going to stay on the square.”

Larry strode across toward him. His open left hand slammed against the side of George’s face with staggering impact.

“You’re hot,” Larry said, and his right hand swung up to the other side of George’s face. “You’re hot, Georgie,” and his left hand came up from his hip.

George made a pretense at defending himself but Larry Giffen, quick as a cat, strong as a bear, came after him. “You’re hot.”... Wham... “You’re hot, Georgie.”

At length Larry stepped back. “I’m taking a half interest. You’ll run it for me when I’m not here, Georgie. You’ll keep accurate books. You’ll do all the work. Half of the profits are mine. I’ll come in once in a while to look things over. Be damn certain that you don’t try any cheating, Georgie.

“You wouldn’t like the hot squat, Georgie. You’re fat, Georgie. You’re well fed. You’ve teamed up with that swivel-hipped babe, Georgie. I could see it in your eye. She’s class, and she goes with the place, Georgie. Remember, I’m cutting myself in for a half interest. I’m leaving it to you to see there isn’t any trouble.” George Ollie’s head was in a whirl. His cheeks were stinging from the heavy-handed slaps of the big man. His soul felt crushed under a weight. Larry Giffen knew no law but the law of power, and Larry Giffen, his little malevolent eyes glittering with sadistic gloating, was on the move, coming toward him again, hoping for an opportunity to beat him up.

George hadn’t known when Stella had let herself in. Her key had opened the door smoothly.

“What’s he got on you, George?” she asked.

Larry Giffen swung to the sound of her voice. “Well, well, little Miss Swivel-hips,” he said. “Come here, Swivel-hips. I’m half owner in the place now. Meet your new boss.”

She stood still, looking from him to George Ollie.

Larry turned to George.

“All right, Georgie, where’s the safe? Give me the combination to the safe, Georgie. As your new partner I’ll need to have it. I’ll handle the day’s take. Later on you can keep books, but right now I need money. I have a heavy date tonight.”

George Ollie hesitated a moment, then moved back toward the kitchen.

“I said give me the combination to the safe,” Larry Giffen said, his voice cracking like a whip.

Stella was looking at him. George had to make it a showdown. “The dough’s back here,” he said. He moved toward the rack where the big butcher knives were hanging.

Larry Giffen read his mind. Larry had always been able to read him like a book.

Larry’s hand moved swiftly. A snub-nosed gun nestled in Larry’s big hand.

There was murder in the man’s eye but his voice remained silky and taunting.

“Now, Georgie, you must be a good boy. Don’t act rough. Remember, Georgie, I’ve done my last time. No one takes Big Larry alive. Give me the combination to the safe, Georgie. And I don’t want any fooling!”

George Ollie reached a decision. It was better to die fighting than to be strapped into an electric chair. He ignored the gun, kept moving back toward the knife rack.

Big Larry Giffen was puzzled for a moment. George had always collapsed like a flat tire when Larry had given an order. This was a new George Ollie. Larry couldn’t afford to shoot. He didn’t want noise and he didn’t want to kill.

“Hold it, Georgie! You don’t need to get rough.” Larry put away his gun. “You’re hot on that bank job, Georgie. Remember I can send you to the hot squat. That’s all the argument I’m going to use, Georgie. You don’t need to go for a shiv. Just tell me to walk out, Georgie, and I’ll leave. Big Larry doesn’t stay where he isn’t welcome.

“But you’d better welcome me, Georgie boy. You’d better give me the combination to the safe. You’d better take me in as your new partner. Which is it going to be, Georgie?”

It was Stella who answered the question. Her voice was calm and clear. “Don’t hurt him. You’ll get the money.”

Big Larry looked at her. His eyes changed expression. “Now that’s the sort of a broad I like. Tell your new boss where the safe is. Start talking, babe, and remember you go with the place.”

“There isn’t any safe,” George said hurriedly. “I banked the money.”

Big Larry grinned. “You’re a liar. You haven’t left the place. I’ve been casing the joint. Go on, babe, tell me where the hell that safe is. Then Georgie here will give his new partner the combination.”

“Concealed back of the sliding partition in the pie counter,” Stella said.

“Well, well, well,” Larry Giffen observed, “isn’t that interesting?”

“Please don’t hurt him,” Stella pleaded. “The shelves lift out—”

“Stella!” George Ollie said sharply. “Shut up!”

“The damage has been done now, Georgie boy,” Giffen said.

Larry slid back the glass doors of the pie compartment, lifted out the shelves, put them on the top of the counter, then slid back the partition disclosing the safe door.

“Clever, Georgie boy, clever! You called on your experience, didn’t you? And now the combination. Georgie.”

Ollie said, “You can’t get way with it, Larry. I won’t—”

“Now, Georgie boy, don’t talk that way. I’m your partner. I’m in here fifty-fifty with you. You do the work and run the place and I’ll take my half from time to time. — But you’ve been holding out on me for a while, Georgie boy, so everything that’s in the safe is part of my half. Come on with the combination. — Of course, I could make a spindle job on it, but since I’m a half owner in the joint I hate to damage any of the property. Then you’d have to buy a new safe. The cost of that would have to come out of your half. You couldn’t expect me to pay for a new safe.”