James Chase: Safer Dead

I saw Cornelia’s eyes dilate. She looked quickly towards the window, her gun swinging around.

The roar of a .45 swamped the bang of the .22. I only knew she had fired because I saw the gun flash.

The shock of the .45 slug as it hit her threw her backwards.

The .22 fell from her hand as she cannoned against the bar. She was dead before she reached the lush pile of the carpet.

‘Don’t move!’ Lassiter said from the window. He thrust one long thick leg over the window sill, the smoking .45 pointing at me. He slid into the room, covering me with the gun. His coarse, brutal face creased into a jeering smile as he looked at me.

‘Hello, peeper,’ he said. ‘You seem to be having yourself a good time.’

I didn’t say anything. My tongue was as dry as scorched leather, and my knees were buckling. I watched him walk over to Cornelia, turn her over with his foot and look down at her.

‘Well, she won’t cash any cheques where she’s gone,’ he said, and to my relief, he shoved the .45 back into his shoulder holster. ‘Take a drink, peeper; you look like you could use one.’

I ploughed my way across to the bar, poured myself three fingers of Scotch and gulped it down. The liquor did something to unfreeze my panic.

‘You’re a lucky guy, peeper,’ Lassiter said, reaching for a glass. He poured himself a stiff whisky. ‘If I hadn’t showed up when I did, you’d have been playing a harp by now.’

‘That’s a fact,’ I said, wiping my face with my handkerchief. I kept my back turned to Cornelia’s body. ‘How did you happen to look in?’

He grinned at me, showing big white teeth.

‘I was keeping tabs on you like she said. I had an idea you were shacking up at Benn’s place. I figured it this way: you’ve been talking to Bradley. Benn and Bradley work together. Benn has a hideout; so that’s where you were.’

‘Pretty smart,’ I said. ‘Then why didn’t you grab me at Benn’s place if you knew I was there?’

‘What for? You don’t imagine I think you knocked off Hartley, do you? I’m not that dumb. Okay, it looked bad, but why should you knock him off? I figured if I kept near you, you’d crack the case and save me some trouble. I couldn’t crack it myself. She was in too close with Doonan for any Tampa City cop to handle her.’

‘Well, it’s fixed now. You won’t let Royce get away?’

‘He won’t get away.’ He reached out a huge hand for the telephone. ‘Give me police headquarters,’ he told the operator. While he waited he helped himself to another drink, then he said into the mouthpiece, ‘This is Lassiter. I want Royce picked up and fast. I’ll be right over to charge him. Just get him.’

He replaced the receiver, finished his drink, then taking out a pack of cigarettes, he offered me one.

‘You weren’t kidding when you told her you could prove she did the job?’ he asked, as we lit up.

‘I wasn’t kidding. The case is in the bag. Captain Creed is handling the witnesses.’

‘Creed, huh?’ Lassiter grinned. ‘Making sure of it? That’s swell. And you’re going to print the story in your rag?’

‘That’s the idea.’

‘Then it’s goodbye Doonan. I’ve been waiting for that punk to run into something he couldn’t talk himself out of, and this is it. Do you know how our system works? I’ll tell you. Doonan will take the buck: he can’t avoid it, and he’ll go. Mathis will move into his place; Carson will move into Mathis’s place, and I’ll move into Carson’s place. In six months’ time, Mathis will move out and I’ll be the boss.’

‘You’ve forgotten Carson,’ I said.

‘No, I haven’t.’ He showed his teeth in a wolfish grin. ‘I’ll take care of him. He won’t worry me.’ He reached out a hand that felt like a hunk of concrete and patted my shoulder. ‘Go away and write your story. Make it good. Don’t forget to tell them how I saved your life.’ He turned to look at Cornelia. ‘Baby, if you only knew the shakeup you’re going to cause; if you only knew.’

‘Then you don’t want me for the Hartley killing?’ I asked.

‘Don’t be a dope. You’re as free as the air.’ His huge hand reached out and took in the slack of my coat front. ‘I’ve been looking at that rag of yours, pally. It’s a nice layout. How’s about a photograph of me on the cover when you break the story?’

‘Do you think that’s a good idea?’ I asked, examining his pig face. At close quarters it was horrible. ‘We don’t want to get pinched for scaring the kiddies.’

He gave me a little shake that nearly made my disc slip.

‘What’s that again?’ he growled, scowling.

‘I said it was a good idea. Would you mind giving me back my suit?’

He shoved me away from him.

‘Okay, you fix it. I’ve got you out of a jam, and I expect something from you in return: understand?’

‘You’ll get it,’ I said, smiling at him. ‘You’ll get it all right.’

‘Sit down and keep out of my way.’ He reached for the telephone again. ‘I’ve got to get the Captain down here.’

While he was telephoning I sat down and helped myself to another drink. I hadn’t forgotten how he had booted me when we had first met. I didn’t think it would be difficult to prove he had been collecting money from Cornelia. Maybe he had shot her, but I wasn’t kidding myself he had shot her to save my life. She had said I’d be safer dead, and he knew she would also be safer dead. He knew she’d talk if he was ever brought to trial. He had seen his way out and had taken the opportunity. All I would have to do was to drop a hint in Captain Mathis’s ear. An investigation of Lassiter’s bank account would fix him. No one kicks a Sladen in the pants without paying for it.

Lassiter got through telephoning. He went over to where Dillon’s body was hidden and began getting up the floor boards.

‘I’ll take the credit for finding the stiff, pally,’ he said. ‘Your job is to collaborate with me. I’ll tell the story. You sit still and keep quiet. Just say amen when I tell you to.’

‘Sure,’ I said. ‘Anything you say, sergeant.’

His pig eyes went over me.

‘Don’t try anything funny or I’ll make you sorry.’

‘That’s okay, sergeant.’

I lit a cigarette. Maybe it would be safer to tip Mathis off after I was back in New York. I decided I would do that.

While I waited for Mathis to arrive I began to straighten out in my mind the story as I would dictate it to Bernie. If anyone were going to have his face on the front cover of Crime Facts in the issue that carried my story I saw no reason why it shouldn’t be mine.

But I was kidding myself. If there was one thing Fayette hated more than another, it was giving any of his staff writers publicity.