Росс Макдональд - The Doomsters

“How could she do that?”

“She’s got a lot of friends. She does them favors, they do her favors.”

“Is the sheriff one of her friends?”

He changed the subject. “I was going to tell you about this kid in Vegas. She was just a kid my own age, but she was main-lining already. I met her at this alumnus party where they wanted me to play football for their college. The old boys had a lot of drinks, and we young people had some, and then they wanted me to put on a show with this kid. They kept chunking silver dollars at us when we were doing it. We collected so many silver dollars I had a hard time carrying them up to her room. I was strong in those days, too.”

“I remember you were.”

“Damn them!” he said in weak fury. “They made a monkey out of me. I let them do it to me, for a couple of hundred lousy silver dollars. I told them what they could do with their football scholarship. I didn’t want to go to college anyway. Too much like work.”

“What’s the matter with work?”

“Only suckers work. And you can pin it in your hat Tom Rica is no sucker. You want to know who finally cured me of suckering for all that uplift crap? You did, and I thank you for it.”

“When did all this happen?”

“Don’t you kid me, you remember that day I came to your office. I thought if I could talk – but we won’t go into that. You wanted no part of me. I wanted no part of you. I knew which side I was on from there on out.”

He sat up in bed and bared his arm as if the marks of the needle were battle scars which I had inflicted on him: “The day you gave me the old rush, I made up my mind I’d rather be an honest junkie than a double-talking hypocrite. When they grabbed me this last time, I was main-lining two-three times a day. And liking it,” he said, in lost defiance. “If I had my life to live over, I wouldn’t change a thing.”

I’d begun to feel restless, and a little nauseated. The alcoholic haze was lifting from the half-forgotten afternoon when Tom had come to my office for help, and gone away without it.

“What did you come to see me about, Tom?”

He was silent for quite a while. “You really want to know?”

“Very much.”

“All right, I had a problem. Matter of fact, I had a couple of problems. One of them was the heroin. I wasn’t all the way gone on it yet, but I was close to gone. I figured maybe you could tell me what to do about it, where I could get treatment. Well, you told me where to go.”

I sat and let it sink in. His eyes never left my face. I said, when I got my voice back: “What was the other problem you had?”

“They were the same problem, in a way. I was getting the stuff from Grantland, all I wanted. I hear the good doctor got his last night, by the way.” He tried to say it casually but his eyes were wide with the question.

“Grantland’s in the basement in a cold drawer.”

“He earned it. He killed an old lady, one of his own patients. I told you that last night, didn’t I? Or was it just a part of the dream I had?”

“You told me, all right, but it was just part of the dream. A girl named Mildred Hallman killed the old lady. Grantland was only an accessory after the fact.”

“If he told you that, he’s a liar.”

“He wasn’t the only one who told me that.”

“They’re all liars! The old lady was hurt, sure, but she was still alive when Grantland dropped her off the dock. She even tried to–” Tom put his hand over his mouth. His eyes roved round the walls and into the corners like a trapped animal’s. He lay back and pulled the sheet up to his chin.

“What did she try to do, Tom? Get away?”

A darkness crossed his eyes like the shadow of a wing. “We won’t talk about it.”

“I think you want to.”

“Not any more. I tried to tell you about her over three years ago. It’s too late now. I don’t see any good reason to talk myself into more trouble. How would it help her? She’s dead and gone.”

“It could help the girl who thinks she murdered her. She’s in worse trouble than you are. A lot worse. And she’s got a lot more guilt. You could take some of it away from her.”

“Be a hero, eh? Make the home folks proud of me. The old man always wanted me to be a hero.” Tom couldn’t sustain his sardonic bitterness. “If I admit I was on the dock, does that make me what you call an accessory?”

“It depends on what you did. They’re not so likely to press it if you volunteer the information. Did you help Grantland push her in?”

“Hell no, I argued with him when I saw she was still alive. I admit I didn’t argue very much. I needed a fix, and he promised me one if I’d help him.”

“How did you help him?”

“I helped him carry her out of his office and put her in his car. And I drove the car. He was too jittery to drive for himself. I did argue with him, though.”

“Why did he drown her, do you know?”

“He said he couldn’t afford to let her live. That if it came out, what happened that night, it would knock him right out of business. I figured if it was that important, I should start a little business of my own.”

“Blackmailing Grantland for drugs?”

“You’ll never prove it. He’s dead. And I’m not talking for the record.”

“You’re still alive. You’ll talk.”

“Am I? Will I?”

“You’re a better man than you think you are. You think it’s the monkey that’s killing you. I say you can train the monkey, chain him up and put him in the goddam zoo where he belongs. I say it’s that old lady that’s been weighing you down.”

His thin chest rose and fell with his breathing. He fingered it under the sheet, as if he could feel a palpable weight there.

“Christ,” he said. “She floated in the water for a while. Her clothes held her up. She was trying to swim. That was the hell of it that I couldn’t forget.”

“And that’s why you came to see me?”

“Yeah, but it all went down the drain with the bathwater. You wouldn’t listen. I was scared to go to the law. And I got greedy, let’s face it. When I bumped into Carl in the hospital, and he filled me in on the family, I got greedy as hell. He said there was five million bucks there, and Grantland was knocking them off to get his hands on it. I thought here was my big chance for real.”

“You were wrong. This is your real chance now. And you’re taking it.”

“Come again. You lost me somewhere.”

But he knew what I meant. He lay and looked up at the ceiling as if there might just possibly be sky beyond it. And stars at night. Like any man with life left in him, he wanted to find a use for himself.

“Okay, Archer. I’m willing to make a statement. What have I got to lose?” He freed his arms from the sheet, grinning derisively, and flapped them like a small boy playing airman. “Bring on the D. A. Just keep Ostervelt out of it if you can, will you? He won’t like all I got to say.”

“Don’t worry about him. He’s on his way out.”

“I guess it’s Maude I’m worried about.” His mood swung down with a hype’s lability, but not as far down as it had been. “Jesus, I’m a no-good son. When I think of the real chances I had, and the dirty trouble I stirred up for the people that treated me good. I don’t want Maude to be burned.”

“I think she can look after herself.”

“Better than I can, eh? If you see Carl, tell him I’m sorry, will you? He treated me like a brother when I was in convulsions, spouting like a whale from every hole in my head. And I got more holes than most, don’t think I don’t know it. Pass the word to Carl when you see him?”

“What word?”

“Sorry.” It cost him an effort to say it directly.