Mickey Spillane - My Gun Is Quick

"The details are what count, I can't leave them out. What I want you to realize is that these things had to be, and it was good to get rid of them. We chased a name and found crime. We chased the crime and we found bigger names. The police dragnet isn't partial to anyone now. The cops are taking a long chance and making it stick. Every minute we sit here the vice and rot that had the city by the tail gets drawn closer to the wringer.

"You should feel proud, Mr. Berin. I do. I feel damn proud. I lost Nancy but I found Lola... and I found some of myself, too."

"If only we could have done something for that girl..."

"Nancy?"

"Yes. She died so completely alone. But it was all her own doing. If it was true, as you said, that she had an illegitimate child and went downwards into a life of sin, who can be blamed? Certainly the girl herself." He shook his head, his eyes crinkling in puzzled wonder. "If only they had some pride... even the slightest essence of pride, these things would never happen. And not only this girl Nancy... how many others are like her? No doubt this investigation will uncover the number.

"Mike, there were times when I believed my own intense pride to be a childish vanity, one I could afford to indulge in, but I am glad now to have that pride. It can mean something, this pride of name, of ownership. I can look over my fine estate and say, 'This is my own, arrived at through my own efforts.' I can make plans for the future when I will be nothing but a name and take pride that it will be remembered."

"Well, it's the old case of the double standard, Mr. Berin. You can't blame these kids for the mistakes they make. I think nearly every one makes them, it's just a few that get caught in the web. It's rough then, rough as hell."

Half the bottle was gone before I looked at my watch and came to my feet. I reached for my hat, remembered the check in time and wrote it out. "I'm late already. Velda will chew me out."

"It has been nice talking to you, Mike. Will you stop back tomorrow? I want to know what happens. You will be careful, won't you?"

"I'll be careful," I said. We shook hands at the door and I heard it shut as I reached the stairway. By the time I reached the main floor the desk-clerk was there, his finger to his lips urging me to be quiet. Hell, I couldn't help whistling. I recovered my car from the lot and roared out to the street. Just a little while longer, I thought.

Velda had nearly given me up. I saw her pacing the street in front of the Hackard Building, swinging her umbrella like a club. I pulled over and honked at her. "I thought you said an hour and a half."

"Sorry, honey, I got tied up."

"You're always getting tied up." She was pretty when she was mad.

We signed the night book in the lobby and the lone operator rode us up to our floor. Velda kept watching me out of the corner of her eye, curiosity getting the better of her. Finally she couldn't hold it any longer. "Usually I know what's going on, Mike."

I told her as briefly as I could. "It was the redhead. She used her camera to take pictures."

"Naturally."

"These weren't ordinary pictures. They could be used for blackmail. She must have had plenty... it's causing all the uproar. Pat went ahead on the theory we were right in our thinking. We'll need that stuff for evidence."

"Uh-huh."

She didn't get it, but she made believe she did. Later I'd have to sit down and give her a detailed account. Later, not now.

We reached the office and Velda opened the door with her key and switched on the light. It had been so long since I had been in, that the place was almost strange to me. I walked over to the desk while Velda straightened her hair in front of the mirror.

"Where is it, kid?"

"On the blotter."

"I don't see it."

"Oh, for pity sakes. Here..." Her eyes went from the desk to mine, slowly, widening a little. "It's gone, Mike."

"Gone! Hell, it can't be!"

"It is. I put it right here before I left. I remember it distinctly. I put my desk in order..." She stopped.

"What is it?" I was afraid to talk.

Her hand was around the memo pad, looking at the blank sheet on top. Every bit of color had drained from her face.

"Damn it, speak up!"

"A page is torn off... the one I had Lola's phone number and address on."

"My God!"

I grabbed the front door and swung it open, holding it in the light. Around the key slot in the lock were a dozen light scratches made by a pick. I must have let out a yell, because the noise of it reverberated in my ears as I ran down the hall. Velda shouted after me, but I paid no attention. For once the elevator was where I wanted it, standing with the door back and the operator waiting to take us back down.

He recognized the urgency in my face, slammed the door shut and threw the handle over. "Who was up here tonight?" I demanded.

"Why, nobody I know of, sir."

"Could anyone get up the stairs without being seen?

"Yes, I guess they could. That is, if the attendant or myself happened to be busy."

"Were you?"

"Yes, sir. We've been swabbing down the floors ever since we came on."

I had to keep my teeth shut to keep the curses in. I wanted to scream at the guy to hurry. Get me down. It took an eternity to reach the bottom floor and by then Velda had her hand on the button and wouldn't take it off. I squeezed out before the door was all the way open and bolted for my car.

"Oh, God!" I kept saying over and over to myself. "Oh, God!..."

My foot had the accelerator on the floor, pushing the needle on the speedometer up and around. The tires shrieked at the turns protestingly, then took hold once again until another turn was reached! I was thankful for the rain and the hour again; no cars blocked the way, no pedestrians were at the crossings. Had there been I never would have made it, for I was seeing only straight ahead and my hands wouldn't have wrenched the wheel over for anything.

I didn't check my time, but it seemed like hours before I crowded in between cars parked for the night outside the apartment. My feet thundered up the stairs, picking their way knowingly through the semi-darkness. I reached the door and threw it open and I tried to scream but it crammed in my throat like a hard lump and stayed there.

Lola was lying on the floor, her arms sprawled out. The top of her dress was soaked with blood.

I ran to her, fell on my knees at her side, my arms going to her face. The hole in her chest bubbled blood and she was still breathing. "Lola..."

Her eyelids fluttered, opened. She saw me and her lips, once so lusciously ripe with the redness of life, parted in a pale smile. "God, Lola!'..."

I tried to help her, but her eyes told me it was too late. Too late! Her hand moved, touched me, then went out in an arc, the effort racking her with pain. The motion was so deliberate I had to follow it. Somehow she managed to extend her forefinger, point towards the phone table, then swing her hand to the door.

She made no sound, but her lips moved and said for the last time, "I love you, Mike." I knew what she wanted me to do. I bent forward and kissed her mouth gently, and tasted the salt of tears. "Dear God, why did it have to happen to her? Why?"

Her eyes were closed. The smile was still on her face. But Lola was dead. You'll always know one thing. I love you. No matter where you are or when, you will know that wherever I am I'll be loving you. Just you.

The joy was gone. I was empty inside. I had no feeling, no emotion. What could I feel... how was I supposed to act? It happened so fast, this loving and having it snatched away at the moment of triumph. I closed my eyes and said a prayer that came hard, but started with, "Oh, God!...

When I opened my eyes again she was still pointing at the door, even now, in death, trying to tell me something.