James Chase - Safer Dead

I stopped dead.

We looked at each other across the space of the hall and the lounge. His fleshy, weather-tanned face turned a rich purple, and his small eyes grew as round as marbles. It flashed through my mind that if I threatened him with the gun I would be fixed. I still had a remote chance of proving I didn’t kill Hartley, but threatening a cop with a gun was something I wouldn’t be able to talk myself out of.

I took my hand from my pocket slowly, and somehow managed to smile at him. I watched his hand grope feverishly at his gun holster. His movements were slow and confused.

‘Hello there,’ I said as casually as I could, ‘where’s everyone?’

He got the gun out and pointed it at me.

‘Don’t move!’

‘Take it easy,’ I said hurriedly. ‘I was hoping to find Lieutenant Carson. Isn’t he around?’

‘Who are you?’ he demanded and came forward slowly, his thick finger on the gun trigger.

‘My name’s Sladen. I’m a staff writer for Crime Facts,’ I said, hoping he didn’t know I was the guy they were looking for. ‘You’ve heard of me, haven’t you?’

I saw him relax a trifle, but the gun continued to cover me.

‘Let’s see your press card.’

I took out my billfold, flicked it open and handed it to him.

He examined the press card, then handed back the wallet.

‘How did you get in here?’

‘Webb let me in the back way,’ I said. ‘I wanted to take a look around. That okay with you?’

‘Webb let you in?’ The barrel of the gun sagged so it was no longer pointing at me. ‘It’s against orders. He should have known that. You can’t come in here.’

‘Who’ll know? Is this where Hartley was shot?’ I wandered into the room. ‘He lived in style, didn’t he?’

The patrolman shoved his gun back into his holster.

‘Come on! Outside! I’ve got my orders.’

‘I’m only doing my job,’ I said, backing away.

‘Yeah; and I’m doing mine.’ He moved past me and went into the hall. ‘Come on - get out of here!’

I followed him into the hall and watched him unlock the front door.

‘Beat it!’ he said, holding the door open.

‘I’m on my way,’ I said and stepped cautiously past him.

I started down the drive-in, making an effort not to break into a run. I was expecting the other patrolman to show up, but he didn’t.

At the gate I paused to look back.

Gesserter stood in the lighted doorway watching me. For a brief moment we looked at each other, then he stepped back and slammed the front door.

III

Once clear of the house, I broke into a run. The long, empty avenue stretched away into the darkness. I avoided the pools of yellow light thrown by the widely spaced street lamps. I had no idea if the two patrolmen would get together. If they did, it wouldn’t be long before they reported to headquarters.

I had a good two miles to cover before I reached the centre of the town. My one chance was to get under cover as quickly as I could before the prowl cars came after me. Bradley had told me to go to Sam Benn’s place on Maddox Street if I had to duck out of sight. This seemed to me now to be sound advice, but I had no idea where Maddox Street was. I might be running away from it for all I knew.

Still keeping to the shadows and walking now, I turned the corner and started down the street that led directly to the town. A faint haze hung over the town from the lights of the all night neon signs: they seemed a long way off. I peered at my strap watch. It was coming up for three o’clock. It wouldn’t be long now before it was light.

At the bottom of the street, bright lights suddenly cut up the darkness as a car swung out from a side turning. I was passing a house when I saw the lights. I put one hand on the low garden wall, vaulted over and crouched down. The car roared up the street: its headlights raking the wall, making me duck lower. I heard the car brake violently, then turn into Cannon Avenue.

I straightened, vaulted back on to the sidewalk and started to run again. I was breathing like an asthmatic by the time I reached the bottom of the street which led into the outskirts of the shopping centre. Here I knew was danger: this was the territory of the patrolling cop, and every one of them would have my description. Keeping to the back streets I made my way past the dark faces of small shops, dingy eating houses and apartment houses. This was the district, tucked away as if ashamed of itself, that housed the workers who were at the beck and call of the rich of Tampa City.

Ahead of me a shadow moved, bringing me to an abrupt stop. I silently stepped into a shop doorway as a bulky patrolman walked to the edge of the sidewalk and balanced himself on the kerb while he swung his nightstick and stared up at the grey-black canopy of the sky. He rested his feet for five minutes or so while I watched him, then he moved on, going away from me.

At the next intersection I turned right. Across the road a yellow light shining through a glass panelled door made a rectangle pattern on the greasy sidewalk. A neon sign above the door read: Good Eats. Open All Night.

I crossed the street, made sure no one was in sight before I stepped into the rectangle of light and looked through the glass panel of the door.

A fat man with black greasy hair, his chin bristly with black stubble, his hairy arms resting on the counter, stared vacantly at a newspaper spread out before him. There were no customers and most of the lights were off.

I pushed open the door and walked in.

The fat man glanced up, his eyes heavy with boredom.

‘May I use your phone, bud?’ I asked.

He jerked a dirty thumb to the end of the room.

‘Go ahead and help yourself,’ he said and yawned, showing big white teeth.

I shut myself in the pay booth and leafed through the telephone book. I found Sam Benn’s number and I dialled. While I waited, listening to the calling tone, I stared through the glass panel of the door at the fat man.

A voice heavy with sleep said, ‘Hello?’

‘Is Sam Benn there?’

‘You’re talking to him. What do you want?’

‘Captain Bradley told me to call you. I have a flock of buttons hunting for me and I’ve got to get under cover fast.’

The man at the other end of the line sighed.

‘Well, okay, if Cap Bradley said so, who am I to object? Where are you?’

‘At an eating house on Sherratt Street.’

‘Know where I am?’

‘No. I’m walking and dodging cops as I go.’

The man groaned.

‘That means I’ve got to come and fetch you, does it?’

‘It would be an idea.’

‘Yeah; an idea for you, but not for me. Well, okay. The things I do for Cap Bradley! Stick where you are. I’ll be along in half an hour; maybe sooner.’

‘Thanks.’

The line went dead. I replaced the receiver. As I turned to open the booth door I saw a shadow fall across the rectangle of light on the sidewalk. A moment later the door pushed open and two big men came in. They walked heavily over to the fat man who looked up. He slowly straightened and placed two big, hairy hands on the counter. His face was expressionless.

Faintly through the glass panel of the pay booth I heard one of the men say, ‘Police. We’re looking for a guy. Anyone been in?’

I felt a cold dampness on my face as I squeezed myself into the darkness of the booth.

‘No one’s been in for the past two hours,’ the fat man said woodenly.

‘You sure?’

‘I’m telling you, aren’t I?’ the fat man said curtly. He put a cigarette between his lips and began to search for a match.

The policeman who had spoken leaned forward and smacked the cigarette away, catching the fat man’s cheek with his thick fingers as he did so.