Микки Спиллейн - Together We Kill

The fires wouldn’t go out. The cigarette fell from my fingers and scattered sparks on the floor. The tight knot inside me jerked even tighter and something was going on in my head, fighting and screaming to free itself. Something that didn’t sound like my voice said. “And today, Henri...?”

“Is the ninth, Joe.”

I ran. I pushed everything aside and I ran, and if I went fast enough I could catch her before she disappeared again, and I could tell Gus that the job was fine and I’d be there with bells on. Wedding bells.

I caught her.

You walk down the street at night. It’s raining but. The only sound is that of your own feet. Then you hear another sound and you look across the street and see the blonde.

The blonde.

The girl you’ve been looking for for two whole years. She’s blonder now. A little bit heavier but on her it’s okay. And more beautiful than ever. She had to be more beautiful than ever. The girl you’ve been looking for for two years but never wanted to see again in your life.

So you follow her for a little while, then out of force of habit that’s two years old, you cross the street and stay behind her. Yeah, even from there she hadn’t changed. All the grace of a cat was in her walk and maybe some of their animal instincts, too.

Maybe she heard me.

Maybe she just felt me.

That’s the way it always had been. Her steps got slower and shorter then she stopped altogether and there was Helen.

Lovely, lovely Helen who I loved so much — but was going to kill in just another minute.

The gun in my pocket that had gotten warm from my hand felt cold all of a sudden. Cold and almost too heavy to lift, but I got it out of my pocket and had it in front of me when I reached her. She still had those deep green-tinted eyes that could laugh at you... even when you were dying... and now it was Helen who was dying and she could still laugh.

“Hello, Helen.”

A long pause. “Hello, Mike. Do I get it here?”

“That’s right. Here, Helen. Just like I said it would be. The next time I ever saw you, wherever it was... and now it’s here.”

“All right, Mike.”

“It won’t hurt much, but I’m not worried about that kind of pain. What I want you to feel will be right inside your mind. A slow, agonizing pain that wants to scream but can’t make a sound because it’s all inside you. It’s life screaming because death is catching up with it... and all you’ll be able to do is lie there listening to that silent screaming and the last thing you’ll hear will be my feet walking away.”

“Not even a kiss good-bye, Mike?”

“Not even a kiss good-bye. The last one was two years ago. That one will hold me... That was a real kiss... a real kiss of death. Remember it, Helen?”

Sure she remembered it. How could she ever forget it? The kiss of death. Hers. Two years ago was the night I died. But there was a time before that... many nights before. The time we met.

There was a party going on. You know the kind... all the Broadway wheels spilling champagne and someplace in the background a soft piano setting the mood. I said my hellos but I didn’t like the people I was forced to associate with and was ready to leave when I saw her...

There was loneliness in her... loneliness and something else that didn’t belong there. Fear. The kind of fear that didn’t belong at a party like this one, with a crowd like this one.

Then our eyes met over the heads of everybody and suddenly the room seemed to empty slowly until there was nobody there or even in the whole world except the two of us.

And fear.

I walked over to her... looked at her and could feel my spine get crawly.

“I came alone,” I said.

“So did I.”

“Then you’re with me.”

I didn’t expect the mist that flowed into her eyes. A wisecrack maybe, but anything except the mist.

“For how long?” she asked.

“Forever?”

She paused. “I think... I wish it could be... forever.”

“Let’s get out of here.”

Her scared cry overlapped my words:

“What’s scaring you?”

That surprised her.

“Yeah — it shows, kid.” I paused. “Let’s get out, girl. Nobody’ll ever bother you while I’m there. I’m funny that way.”

“Forever?”

“Maybe forever. We have to start sometime.”

So we went, the two of us... and fear. Fear that was there when she told me her name was Helen Venn, fear that was with us in a cab and stayed like an invisible shroud when we walked through the park.

“It’s a pretty night, Mike.”

“Maybe.”

She turned her head and looked at me, the swirl of her hair a golden waterfall in the moonlight.

“There’s something wrong with your eyes, Mike.”

“Yeah, I know. They don’t look at you... they watch you. That what you mean?”

“That’s right. What are they watching?”

“A kid in trouble. It’s all over you. Why, Helen?”

“It’s quite a story.” She hesitated. “I think... Mike!”

Footsteps ran toward us, jostled into us, but the dark shape veered off, into the mess of shrubs. I ran after him, but he was gone.

“He got away,” I said, breathing hard.

“Please don’t go after him!”

“Don’t worry. I couldn’t find him in there anyway. Look... remember I said this could be... forever?”

“I remember.”

“Then we go someplace and sit down. We’ll hear some music and you can talk to me. Whatever it is, I want to hear it all.”

So we went someplace and talked, a little place with soft lights softer music. Then she told me.

“There isn’t too much, Mike, but what there is... well, it’s deadly. Look at me. Big, beautiful... even educated. Some might say I’m lucky. But I’m not. I’m just one of thousands more like me who are caught in this... rat trap of New-York. Then I met a man. He was quite a guy. I went head over heels for the dirty... him. Then he was killed. Shot. It was only then that I found out who he was. Marty Wellman.”

“Marty. He was your guy... That slob was the biggest hood the Syndicate ever turned out.”

“I know that now. Do you know why he was killed?”

“Sure. Someplace he had a couple of tax-free millions stashed away. It’s a good reason for murder.”

“Now do you know why I’m scared?”

“Tell it to me.”

“They... or whoever the killer is thinks I know where it is.” She paused. “Mike... I’m tired of being afraid. I’m tired of walking the street afraid to look back and more afraid to look ahead. I’m tired of looking at my front door night after night, waiting for it to open slowly until I see a killer standing there with a gun in his hand. Mike... I’m tired, do you understand? Tired of living... afraid of living anymore. Mike... I want to die. I want to so bad I’m going to do it myself. I’m...”

“Shaddup!”

“No! I...”

“Shaddup, I said.”

She did.

“I’ll get him for you, girl. He’ll never bother you again.

He’ll never bother anybody again.”

“The police... they never...”

“I’m not the police.”

“Then... it still might be... forever, Mike?”

“We can make it go however we want it to go. But I’ll need some help from you.”

“You can have... anything you want from me, Mike.”

And forever started that night.

It started when Helen took me to the place Marty Wellman used to run, a smooth bistro catering to the uptown trade that ran as far as up to Ossining on the Hudson. Those who were popular that far up made the backroom a gambler’s paradise and a sucker’s grave.

No, she wouldn’t come in. She stayed in the cab and that’s the way I wanted it. There was muted music and indirect lighting. The coatroom was jam-packed but there wasn’t a dozen people at the bar. The rest were digging their graves behind the curtain alongside the bandstand.