Микки Спиллейн - The Last Cop Out

The old man let a laugh ripple out of his mouth. “Figure it out yet, shithead?”

“You’re acting senile, Papa. This call is only a courtesy now.”

“Is it, Marcus?”

“Not as long as you believe I was behind all the trouble, punk.”

A cold chill ran down Shelby’s neck. “Why would I believe that?”

“Because,” Papa told him, “I was almost stupid enough to think you were. Then I sat down and ran it all through my mind until I was sure you never did have the guts or the brains to pull it off. You just waited behind the scenery and let it all happen. It wasn’t what you planned, but as long as it happened you let it alone, then even helped it a little bit. Only like I said, you forgot something.”

“Papa, listen...”

“Lay off the shit, punk. I know it wasn’t me and I know it wasn’t you. What you forgot was that someplace the one who started it all is still out there waiting and we both got to be on his list... and you’re in a tight spot.”

“I’m...”

“Don’t shit me, Marcus. You’re not at home, you’re not in the office, so you’re someplace where you can be tagged real easy. You see, I’m smarter than you, shithead. I’m holed up tight in a safe place with twenty guns all around me and I can wait it out for a year if I have to. By then you’ll be dead anyway.” He chuckled again and added, “Besides, if you ain’t dead, you’ll be doing one hell of a lot of hard time. That cop Burke was back around the pawnshop again. He was looking for some blond tramp. He won’t have much luck because she’s long dead, but he sure as hell might figure something else out.”

The phone was dead in his hand with the old man’s laugh still ringing in his ears. When Helga smiled with phony sweetness and asked him if everything was all right his stomach churned up into his throat and stifled the scream he let out as he threw his fist into her unprotected face and knocked her sprawling back against the couch. There was no stopping the madness that made him tear into her, his knuckles grinding into her ribs and head, his feet kicking huge welts into her skin until she was a bloody, discolored mess on the floor.

When he finished he was a breathless, disheveled figure with wild eyes and skinned fingers and all he could say came out in a panting hiss. “Lousy, stinking bitch. You’re waiting for a guy. You fuckin’ two-timing whore, you won’t be any good to any man again. You’re going to be dead, you and him both. I’m coming back and you’re going to be dead.”

Shelby would have waited, but there was something more important he had to do, then he’d kill them both. The insane fear that one single guy could blow up his entire scheme was so staggering that he even forgot what Papa Menes had told him.

He was back on the street when he remembered, but by then it was too late to change his mind. He flagged down a cab, told the driver where he wanted to go and sat back.

Maybe luck was on his side again. To help it along he changed cabs three times until he reached his destination, certain now that he wasn’t being followed.

The fear had ebbed out of him, and now he was at his deadly best, ready to kill again from ambush.

Gill Burke parked the car a block away and sat there with Helen and Bill Long. The rain had turned into a fine mist, greasing the streets and throwing halos around the street lights. They looked up the empty block where only a few stores still waited for late business.

Burke said, “I’m going to lay out the background for you, Bill. It isn’t a big story and after we check it out you’ll find nothing but circumstantial evidence... except for one critical piece.”

“I’m waiting.”

“We go back to Mark Shelby again.”

“You’re kidding yourself, Gill.”

“Am I? Let’s see if you think so.”

“Okay, go ahead.” There was no confidence in his voice at all.

Burke said, “Think of it this way... Shelby was in a position to know everything about everybody, the workings of the business, personal details... everything. He always had been an ambitious guy, but he kept it hidden pretty damn well because the syndicate didn’t like ambitious people in sensitive places.

“Shelby didn’t want to be a target, either. He was planning the ultimate takeover and wanted to make sure he stayed covered, so besides gathering all the data on the organization, he had evidence on everybody inside it that could keep them out of circulation permanently.

“Hell, it’s not an old scheme, Bill, but he was able to make his work. He couldn’t keep reams of paper around, so he found a couple of unknown and unscrupulous photographers to microfilm his collection. Unfortunately, one or both were a little too unscrupulous and realized what he had. They tried to hold him up for a little blackmail and Shelby killed them on the spot. He had probably stayed on the spot while they did the filming, but one of those guys could do a duplicate of something to hold over his head. The poor slob didn’t realize who he was playing around with and that was it. Shelby picked up the dupes and walked the hell out.

“It was a sleazy neighborhood and he probably never expected to be recognized, but one guy spotted him... even spoke to him. He was a lucky kid. When they put the heat to him he wasn’t about to talk... and he still won’t... but it put Shelby in a position of not being able to take any chances. He could have ditched the gun, but he wanted those two kills solved fast and to everybody’s satisfaction. After that, whatever the kid said wouldn’t matter anyway.

“He found a perfect patsy, an alcoholic named Ted Proctor. He made up a story the guy believed, probably about finding a gun and how Proctor could pawn it for twenty bucks and they’d split the loot for some booze. So Proctor walked into the trap, all juiced up with happiness.”

Long felt it coming and his voice was like ice. “Don’t give me any crap about Jimmy Corrigan being part of the scheme, buddy.”

“He didn’t know he was,” Burke said quietly. “He was suckered too.” He took a breath, lit up a cigarette and stared down the street again. “Just before that Shelby got some of his supposedly clean front men to hand over their wallets. He had them planted in Proctor’s room to make Proctor look like a regular heist artist. Then he roped in some hooker to do a stalling act in case the timing wasn’t just right.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Something Corrigan remembered that wasn’t in his report because it didn’t seem to be part of it.”

“He’ll confirm it?”

“Sure, but you won’t find the dame, that’s for sure.”

“Go ahead.”

“Shelby knew Corrigan’s routine and about what time he’d go by Turley’s pawnshop. Corrigan was a little late, but the hooker stalled him nicely while Proctor went ahead into the pawnshop. Finally Corrigan got away from the broad and walked toward the shop where Turley was discussing buying the gun from Proctor and just as the cop came by, Turley threw up his hands like he was being robbed. Corrigan spotted him, came in with his hands up and when Proctor turned around with the gun in his mitt Corrigan thought the guy was going to let him have it and he fired first.”

Bill Long stared at him in disgust. “There’s one hell of a hole in the story, Gill.”

“There is?” Gill was smiling now because he knew what Long was going to say.”

“Yeah, a big one. It was night out. There was no way for Turley to spot the cop coming up through the window. It’s completely covered with all those pawned items.”

Burke nodded. “It sure is.”

“Well?”

“Remember me telling you it was Helen here who put me on to it.”

She looked at him strangely.