Mickey Spillane - The Big Kill

The hiker was glad to. He felt sorry for me.

I felt sorry for myself too.

Chapter Nine

We were on a side street just off Ninth Avenue and the guy beside me was pulling my arm to wake me up. He tugged and twisted until I thought the damn thing would come off. I got the one eye open and looked at him.

"You sure were dead to the world, brother. Took me a half-hour to get you out of it."

"What time is it?"

"Eight-thirty. Feel pretty rotten?"

"Lousy."

"Want me to call somebody?"

"No."

"Well, look, I have to catch a bus. You think you're going to be all right? If you're not I'll stick around awhile."

"Thanks. I'll make out."

"Okay, it's up to you. Sure appreciate the ride. Wish I could do something for you."

"You can. Go get me a pack of butts. Luckies."

He waved away the quarter I handed him and walked down to the corner to the newsstand. He came back with the pack opened, stuck one in my mouth and lit it. "You take care now. Better go home and sleep it off."

I said I would and sat there smoking the butt until a cop came along slapping tickets on car windows. I edged over behind the wheel, kicked the starter in and got out of there.

Traffic wasn't a problem like it usually was. I was glad to get behind a slow-paced truck and stay there. Every bone and muscle in my body ached and I couldn't have given the wheel a hard wrench if I wanted to. I got around the corner somehow and the truck crossed over to get in the lane going through the Holland Tunnel. I dropped out of position, squeezed through the intersection as the light changed and got on the street that led up to police headquarters.

Both sides of the street were lined with people going to work. They all seemed so happy. They walked alone or in couples, thousands of feet and legs making a blur of motion. I envied them the sleep they had had. I envied their normal unswollen faces. I envied a lot of things until I took time to think about it. At least I was alive. That was something.

The street in front of the red brick building was a parade ground of uniformed patrolmen. Some were walking off to their beats and others were climbing in squad cars. The plain-clothes men went off in pairs, separating at the corner with loud so-longs. Right in front of the main entrance three black sedans with official markings were drawn up at the curb with their drivers reading tabloids behind the wheel. Directly across from them a pair of squad cars pulled out and the tan coupe in front of me nosed into the space they left. I followed in behind him, did a better job of parking than he did and was up against the bumper of the car behind me so the guy would have room to maneuver.

I guess the jerk got his license wholesale. He tried to saw his way in without looking behind him and I had to lean on the horn to warn him off. Maybe I should have planted a red flag or something. He ignored the horn completely and slammed into me so hard I wrapped my chest around the wheel.

That did it. That was as much as I could take. I opened the door with my elbow and got out to give him hell. You'd think with all the cops around one of them would have jumped him, but that's how it goes. The guy was getting out of his heap with a startled apology written all over him. He took a look at my face and forgot what he was going to say. His mouth hung open and he just looked.

I said, "You deaf or something? What the devil do you think a horn's for?"

His mouth started to say something, but he was too confused to get it out. I took another good look at him and I could see why. He was the guy who stood next to me in the bar the afternoon before with the busted headset. He was making motions at his ears and tapping the microphone or whatever it was. I was too disgusted to pay any attention to him and waved him off. He still smacked the bumper twice again before he got himself parked.

This was starting off to be a beautiful day too.

When I got in the building I started to attract a little attention. A cop I know pretty well passed right by me with no more than a cursory glance. One asked me if I was there to register a complaint and looked surprised when I shook my head no. The place was a jumble of activity with men going in and out of the line-up room, getting their orders at the desk or scrambling to get off on a case.

Too much was popping in the morning to hope Pat would be in his office, so I waited my turn at the information desk and told the cop at the switchboard that I wanted to see Captain Chambers.

He said, "Name?"

And I said, "Hammer, Michael Hammer."

Then his hand paused with the plug in it and he said, "Well, I'll be damned."

He tried about ten extensions before he got Pat, said Yes, sir a few times and yanked the plug out. "He'll be right down. Wait here for him."

By the clock I waited exactly one minute and ten seconds. Pat came out of the elevator at a half-run and when he saw me his face did tricks until it settled down in a frown.

"What happened to you?"

"I got took, pal. Took good, too."

He didn't ask me any more questions. He looked down at his shoes a second then put it to me hard and fast. "You're under arrest, Mike."

"What?"

"Come on upstairs."

The elevator was waiting. We got on and went up. We got off at the right floor and I started to walk toward his office automatically, but he put out his hand and stopped me.

"This way, Mike."

"Say, what's going on?"

He wouldn't look at me. "We've had men covering your apartment, your office and all your known places of entertainment since six this morning. The D.A. has a warrant out for your arrest and there's not a damn thing you can do about it."

"Sorry. I should have stayed home. What's the charge?"

We paused outside a stained-oak door. "Guess."

"I give up."

"The D.A. looked for Link's personal file last night and found it missing. He was here when Ellen Scobie tried to put it back this morning. You have two girls on the carpet right this minute who are going to lose their jobs and probably have charges preferred against them too. You're going in there yourself and take one hell of a rap and this time there's no way out. You finished yourself, Mike. You'll never learn, but you're finished."

I dropped my hands in my pockets and made like I was grinning at him.

"You're getting old, son. You're getting set in your ways. For the last two years all you've done is warn me about this, that, and the next thing. We used to play a pretty good game, you and me, now you're starting to play it cautious and for a cop who handles homicide that's no damn good at all."

Then just for the hell of it that little finger that was probing my brain deliberately knocked a couple of pieces together that made lovely, beautiful sense, and I remembered something Ellen had told me not so long ago. I twisted it around, revamped it a little and I was holding something the D.A. was going to pay for in a lot of pride. Yep, a whole lot of pride.

I reached for the knob myself. "Let's go, chum. Me and the D.A. have some business to transact."

"Wait a minute. What are you pulling?"

"I'm not pulling a thing, Pat. Not a thing. I'm just going to trade him a little bit."

Everything was just like it was the last time. Almost.

There was the D.A. behind his desk with his boys on either side. There were the detectives in the background, the cop at the door, the little guy taking notes and me walking across the room.

Ellen and her roommate were the exceptions this time. They sat side by side in straight-back chairs at the side of the big desk and they were crying their eyes out.

If my face hadn't been what it was there would have been a formal announcement made. As it was, everybody gave me a kind of horrified stare and Ellen turned around in her seat. She stopped crying abruptly and put heir hand to her mouth to stifle a scream.