Peter Rabe - Murder Me for Nickels

“Yeah,” said the lawyer. “Anyway, Lippit wants to first try it nice. Talk things over.”

“Where is he?”

“I just gave you the address. You should join him.”

I looked at the slip and saw that Lippit had gone to Benotti’s. To try it nice and talk things over.

“Christawmighty,” I said, and then I left right away.

There weren’t so many children out on Benotti’s street any more and the lawn sprinkling was over, but there were people sitting on most of the porches. They sat and smoked or they talked in the dark. There was nobody on Benotti’s porch.

I didn’t see Lippit’s car and had the quick, useless thought that maybe he hadn’t come after all. Then I parked a little ways down, walked back, and went up Benotti’s drive. Maybe they would all be sitting in the kitchen again.

The kitchen was lit but empty. Then I heard the heavy thunks in the back of the house, which had to be Lippit walking. He had a very hard footfall when in a certain mood. He came down the hall, then into the kitchen, and when he walked through there he knocked into the table. He kept right on walking and left the table standing at an off-angle. Lippit was that big and that mad. He kicked the screen door open and so he would know I was out there before the door came flying shut with a racket I said, “Hello, Walter.”

He stopped, caught the door and closed it very gently.

I said, “You-uh, spoke to Benotti?”

Lippit didn’t answer. He just took a deep breath.

“I’m sorry I’m late, Walter.”

“ Late? ”

“Yes. I was…”

“You got here before me, didn’t you?”

Then he opened the screen door again and then slammed it shut.

Lippit, when his mood demanded, would bellow his words for a while and then would be done with his rage. That, and slamming that door, did it for him and he felt visibly better.

“Yessir,” he said. “I came for a calm, friendly talk. Yessir.”

“Didn’t work, huh?”

He looked me up and down, but didn’t bother to answer.

“I talked to Folsom,” I said. “The way he acted, I am glad to see that you aren’t taking all this with the same…”

He bent to the floor and picked something up.

“You’re missing a button,” he said. “This the one?” And he gave it to me.

The gesture raised hell with the argument for a cool, peaceful procedure I was going to offer. Not that I was the reasonable one and Lippit the oaf needing special guidance. Except, the case was special for me. I just wished Lippit wouldn’t start going too fast.

“How’s Benotti?” I said. “Is he in bed?”

Lippit went down the porch steps and said, “Yeah. He’s in bed.”

“That’s a help, isn’t it? Now he’ll be out of touch for a while and…”

“Yeah,” said Lippit, and then he turned and went back into the house. The screen door slammed shut, his steps clunked down the hall, but then he was back almost immediately. He came out on the porch, took my arm, and walked me around to the street.

“What was that just now, Walter?”

“You got your car here?”

“Yes. But what did…”

“Meet me at my place. But soon, Jack. I mean tonight, soon.”

“Sure. What was that at Benotti’s just now, one more good-bye?”

“No. I tore out his phone.”

Walter Lippit, I knew, was not a phone-out-of-the-wall tearer, or door kicker, or anything like that. If he should kick a door it was because the door didn’t open and he wanted in. If he tore a phone out of the wall, it meant he didn’t want anyone to use it.

So while Benotti would be pretty much out of touch, Lippit meant to hustle.

I took him so seriously, I got to his apartment before he did. Because when I rang the bell Pat opened the door and when she saw me she slammed the door shut again.

“No!”

“Pat, listen. You listening, Pat?”

“Walter is going to be home any minute,” she said through the door, “so you better beat it, Jack.”

“I know he’ll be home any minute. That’s why I want…”

“I know what you want and you must think you’re pretty good.”

I know that she wanted to slam the door right then except it was closed already. I heard her walk away and knew just when she’d get to the living-room door, to slam that one, but nothing happened. I knocked again and said, “Pat?” when she suddenly opened up.

“What changed your mind?” I asked her. “I mean, aside from the fact that you just can’t help yourself.”

I walked in but she didn’t answer. On the way to the living room I looked at her once but she just smiled back.

I mean, I was used to No’s from this girl. Not counting an overwhelming gambit like that zipper deal, this girl was Lippit’s, she could say no in her sleep, and our boss was due any minute. In addition, of course, Pat was a great calculator. She had on a nightgown and a robe over that. She held it tight where it mattered and left it loose where it mattered and without make-up on she looked soft and sleepy. It made me think of a warm bed.

“Sit down, Jack, won’t you?”

She took an attitude on the couch and patted the place next to her. I said, “Thank you,” and sat down on an easy chair.

“I’m glad you’re back,” she said. “Everything go all right?”

“Yes. So far.”

She pulled her shoulders up for a moment, slid her hands up her sleeves, then let her shoulders relax again, soft and casual. I liked that sight so much, I was now very suspicious.

“When’s Walter coming, Jack?”

None of this made very much sense, unless she wanted Lippit to catch me in flagrante delieto so to speak. Not that I knew what the term really meant, except that it was something no good, and Pat, with her hands up her sleeves, wasn’t up to any good either.

“You look extremely sleepy, dear Pat. Really. You should go right back to bed.”

“Sure, Jack.”

What a compliant girl, I thought, and so suddenly. Except that I didn’t know what she was compliant about. Lippit, I hoped, would be here any minute.

She leaned forward and got a cigarette out of the crystal thing on the table and then she closed her robe again. “Was nice before, wasn’t it?” she said.

“Oh yes. You want a light?”

“Please.”

I had to come around the coffee table and unless I wanted to stand there like a jackknife and look down where her robe didn’t make it and she was holding it closed just under the breasts so that they curved in the damnedest half-naked way-I sat down on the couch and held the lit match up between us.

She made no fuss about lighting up and got it on the first drag. I think she wanted to talk.

“I want you to know that I had a very good time on this couch here,” she said, “and I want you to know that doesn’t mean a damn thing for the future, Jack.”

It was a fine time to make this point, the way she was sitting there.

“Really, Pat,” I said. “I wouldn’t presume.”

“When you get formal like that,” she said, “I know you’re lying.”

“I’m under a strain, is all.”

She liked that and shifted a little, just to show how live everything was and how real. Then she laughed.

“I love seeing you strained like that. It shows how you’re loyal to Walter, how you’re devoted to me…”

“That’s not the word, Patty. Devoted isn’t the word.”

“… and how you’re not at all flip and distracted.”

“You want a drink? I’m going to get me a drink.”

“No. I’m going to bed soon, Jack.”

“That’s right. Yes.”

“And with all those qualities,” she went right on, “I understand how you and Walter are making out so well.”