Mickey Spillane - The Deep

Sensation flooded back on a tidal wave of pain. It ran up my legs and back, then centered in my neck at the base of the skull. I got to my knees, spat, and when I could, wiped my mouth with my sleeve. I spat again, stood up and felt the sticky wetness oozing down through my hair. It took a full minute of standing propped against the wall before I felt like moving and when I did my foot nudged the makeshift sap and it rolled across the floor. By the light of a match I could still see some of my hair stuck to the tacky side of the soda bottle and all I could think of was how lucky I had it when the thing didn’t break and slice me open like a peeled banana.

When I walked outside the street traffic was normal and there wasn’t anybody at all who seemed to have special eyes for the doorway. There was an old man looking in Grogan’s window and I tapped him on the arm.

“You see anybody come out of here, mister?”

He turned, looked at me, then past me to the doorway. His shrug was a universal gesture of the neighborhood. “I see nobody.”

I grunted, rubbed my hand across my head and let him see the blood on my fingers. “I just got cold cocked.”

His mouth tightened into a grimace and he said harshly, “Them damn kids. Damn kids, all of them. All the time they do that. Stay in the vestibule with the light out and hit you when you come in. Every night I hear. You shouldn’t go in without light being on. They killed old Julian Chaser like that. For thirty cents they got.” He spat disgustedly and walked away, his advice given and his contempt of humanity more firm than ever.

Then I swore under my breath, reached for my pocket and felt the wallet still there and the rod in the belt rig. I swore again as I slammed the door open and ran up the stairs, stumbling over the junk piled around the landings.

The door was open, the inside dark. I felt for the light, snapped it on and stood there waiting, the gun heavy in my fist. I sidled across the room, groped for the light in the bedroom and pulled it. I was careless as hell and if another gun was there waiting for me I was going to be all the way dead.

But there wasn’t any other gun. There was only Tally Lee lying there with her head smashed in, the blood on her face not yet coagulated. She wasn’t sprawled in the attitude of death; she lay in the relaxed position of sleep and she was lucky. She never knew what hit her.

I knew what hit her, though. I had tasted of it downstairs earlier.

For a few seconds I just stood there and took in the details. There was only one out of place and that was the throw rug kicked to one side almost violently when there hadn’t been but one violent act in the room.

One other detail was there and it was a couple of minutes before it made sense. When it did the throw rug made sense too and the back of my head began to pound again and I wanted to shoot somebody so bad I could taste it.

Beautiful Irish Helen’s coat was hung on a rack in a corner of the room.

I called to her quietly but there was no answer. I called again and parted the drapes that separated the living room from the others. The street light coming in the uncurtained windows outlined the few pieces of furniture. I saw a floor lamp to one side, found the switch and turned it.

Every motion I made was instinctive. My mind was a numb thing that wanted to see or know nothing, shocked with the knowledge that Helen, who lay there sprawled half off the couch with a thin line of blood running down her cheek, was dead too.

My fingers found a pulse, then my mind came back alive again and I lifted her to the couch. The crazy mad inside me made my hands shake and pulled my body so tight that every movement was almost awkward.

There was a lump under her hair and the skin was broken, but it was no more than that. I wet a towel, wiped her face and waited until a soft moan moved her mouth.

“Helen... Helen.”

She moved her head and her eyes squinted with agony. I held the towel against her and stroked her face until she opened her eyes. They were blank at first, then puzzled. I said, “What happened, honey?”

Memory of it returned slowly. I could see it come back, reaching for an answer. “Deep?”

I squeezed her face gently. “You’re okay, baby?”

Plaintively she said, “Deep?”

“Easy, sugar. It’s me.”

Then it hit her all at once and her eyes were great big things alive with terror and before she could scream I put my hand over her mouth and held her head close to me.

When it passed I looked down at her. “What happened?”

Her tongue wet her lips. “The door... I answered the door. I thought it was... you.” Her eyes were wide, staring at me.

“It wasn’t me, baby.”

“When I took the lock off... it flew open. I fell down... and then something...” she sucked in a breath jerkily, “...Deep, what happened?”

“You got slammed on the head, kid.”

“But who...”

“I don’t know. He got me too.”

“Deep...” She reached up and touched my face. “What happened to... Tally?”

“She’s dead, Helen.”

“No!” She bit into her lower lip to hold back a cry, her eyes filling up. Then she could hold it no longer and let it all come out of her in huge, gasping sobs that racked her whole body and I held her tightly until it passed.

I wiped her face again and sat her upright, and when I knew she was thinking clearly again I said, “Now, listen, kid. Can you remember anything about him at all?”

She shook her head. “Only... what I told you.”

“You didn’t see his face? How was he dressed?”

“No. It happened... too fast.”

“Did he talk?”

“No. I... don’t know. No, he didn’t say anything.” She frowned at me and glanced around the room. “Did you... bring me here?”

“Not me. He did,” I told her. “He wanted Tally. He dragged you in here and killed Tally.”

A shudder ran through her body and she stiffened under my hands. “But why, Deep... why?”

“I don’t know yet. I’ll find out though.”

“What will we do?” Her voice caught in her throat.

“Call in the blues, kid. There’s nothing else to do.”

“But Tally...”

“She was important to somebody. Now she’s dead. Look, are you all right? Can I ask you things?”

“I’m... all right.”

“Good. Now don’t make any mistakes. We haven’t much time. Tell me what happened since you got back here.”

She licked at her lips and brushed her hair back from her face. Even though she was sitting on the ragged edge of hysteria she managed to stay on top of it all the way. She let the tautness ease out of her body, then she clasped her hands in her lap and stared at the floor, thinking back.

“The doctor was here then. He said she was all right and gave her something. A... sedative, I think. Mrs. Gleason from next door... that’s the one who stayed with her... went back as long as I was here. I fed her when she woke up and...”

“She say anything?”

“Nothing... special. She was still pretty sick. I gave her another capsule the doctor left and sat with her a while.” She paused and squeezed her hands. “Deep...”

“Yeah?”

“She was scared. Even when she was asleep she was scared. She tried to scream in her sleep and couldn’t.”

“Go on.”

“She said your name. She said Bennett’s name too, but yours was the first.”

“Repeat it.”

“It... wasn’t coherent.”

“Just tell me. Let me fill in the blank spaces.”

“It was... about how she could fix everything. She kept saying she’d tell somebody and he’d do it, or he’d know what to do. Then she’d try to scream. She’d say your name, then Bennett’s.”