1944 - Just the Way It Is (3 page)

‘You’re wrong about Bellman too,’ Schultz said. ‘He ain’t scared of anything. I saw him the other night. He was looking fine.’

‘I think I’ll go over and see him myself,’ Duke finished his whisky and stood up. ‘He wants me to move in to the Chez Paree. He thinks with me around, the suckers will go for his wheel.’

Schultz was just going to pick up his glass when Duke spoke.

His saucer-like eyes went glassy and his hand hovered halfway over his drink. He looked up. ‘A little bird tells me that wouldn’t be a smart thing to do,’ he said.

Duke regarded him. ‘Your little bird wouldn’t be a soft spoken judy with a southern accent, would it?’

Schultz slopped the whisky. For a moment Duke thought he was going to have some kind of a stroke, but he controlled himself with an effort. He shook his head. ‘Nothing like that,’ he said, his mouth closing into a spiteful slit. ‘Who would she be?’

Duke looked frosty. ‘She’s my little bird,’ he said.

‘I’d forget about Bellman. You’ve just picked up a nice slice of dough. Why not take a vacation? I’ll be easy with the rent. You go off. Get yourself some sun and air.’

Duke put his hands on the desk and leaned towards Schultz. ‘Listen, Paul,’ he said, seriously. ‘What’s scaring Bellman? We’ve worked together long enough not to stall, haven’t we?’

Schultz looked blank. ‘I tell you, nothing’s the matter with him. I wouldn’t lie to you, Harry.’

Duke stood away. ‘Okay,’ he said. ‘You wouldn’t lie to me. I’ll have that put on your tombstone. It’ll scare the vultures away,’ and he walked out of the room, shutting the door sharply behind him.

Cullen met him at the bottom of the stairs. ‘Got time for a drink, Harry?’ he asked.

Duke glanced at the big, yellow-faced clock across the room. It showed six-thirty. He shook his head. ‘I want to get home,’ he said. ‘See you tonight at Bellman’s.’

Cullen nodded. ‘Wash behind your ears, Harry,’ he said. ‘I’ve given you a great build up.’

‘I’ll even put on a clean shirt,’ Duke said, smacked Cullen on the back and went into the street.

The light from the evening sun dazzled and hurt his eyes. It was a crazy sort of life he led, he thought as he stood on the kerb waiting for a taxi. Sitting in a smoke-filled room all day, betting, telephoning and playing crap. It was not as if he were broke. He had plenty socked away in the bank. He didn’t have to sit in his tiny office all day, but somehow it was a difficult habit to break.

A taxi crowded on brakes as he waved his hand and drew up near him. He gave a downtown address and got in.

He found he was tired and hot. He took off his hat and relaxed back in the taxi, shutting his eyes.

He wished in a way that he hadn’t dated himself up with Cullen. He had no great interest to meet his girl but he didn’t want to hurt Cullen’s feelings.

He found the girls which his friends were crazy about usually bored him. That was the reason why he had so few friends now. Most of them had got married and he had just dropped them.

He was fond of Peter Cullen. They had known each other for a long time. Five years or so ago, they had been in business together. But Duke got restless and wouldn’t keep office hours and then he got into trouble with the police and Cullen began to worry. Duke didn’t blame him. He knew Cullen was the cautious type and they were not really suited to work together. They split up business and went their different ways, but Duke liked to keep in touch with him. He had a soft spot for Peter Cullen.

Now, Cullen managed two filling stations and seemed to be making a good thing out of them. Anyway, he always seemed to have money to burn and prided himself in being one of the best dressed men in Bentonville. He had forgotten his wild days and had settled down. Duke thought gloomily that he was about set to get married.

Duke would never settle down. He was sure of that. He was in too hard a school. Gambling was all very well as a profession if you were prepared to lose everything and start again, but once you had a wife then you had a hostage to fortune. Duke didn’t want any encumbrances.

It was odd how easily he had acquired the reputation as a killer. Ten years ago, he had killed a man. It was enough for Bentonville. He’d shot a man and he was therefore someone to look up to. That’s the way the citizens of Bentonville reasoned.

In actual fact, Duke had been forced into the gun battle. It was a question of who drew the faster. Duke beat the other guy by a split second. That was a long time ago and he had nearly forgotten about it except when he had too much to drink, which was extremely rare. Then the man he had killed would sit at the foot of his bed and smile at him and the next morning he’d feel like hell.

It was amusing to think that Bellman should want to work with him. Bellman with all his money, his women and his nightclub wanting protection struck Duke as being particularly funny.

Sitting in the bouncing taxi, amid the smell of leather and stale smoke, he brooded about Schultz. He knew something. He was quite sure of that. Schultz knew who the judy was who had rung him. He’d been very careful about Spade too.

Duke’s mouth set in a hard line. Now there was a guy he’d like to unseat. Spade!

Spade must be making a fortune out of Bentonville, Duke thought. He had only to look out of the window to see one of Spade’s yellow and blue poolrooms flash by. They were everywhere. Nearly every shop in Bentonville had one of Spade’s automatic machines. That guy was smart. Duke had to admit it. And what was more, he kept under cover. If there was trouble, Korris would take the rap. Maybe Spade was trying to force Bellman out of business. If that was it, then it meant the thin end of the wedge. It meant that Spade was trying to take over the whole of Bentonville.

The driver suddenly said, without looking round. ‘We’ve got company, boss.’

Duke glanced through the rear window. He could see a big black tourer about a hundred yards behind. It was equipped with a blue anti-dazzle windscreen so he couldn’t see the driver.

‘You sure?’

‘I guess so,’ the driver returned. ‘Don’t ask me to shake that car. I couldn’t do it.’

‘Get off the main road and wander round the blocks,’ Duke said, turning so that he could watch through the rear window.

The driver swung his wheel over at the next turning and went down a narrow street, leading away from the town. The tourer altered direction and came after them.

Duke’s eyes became frosty. He put his hand inside his coat and loosened his gun a trifle in its holster.

‘Keep doing that,’ he said to the driver, ‘I’ll give him another couple of chances.’

The driver began to sweat. ‘There ain’t going to be any shootin’, boss?’ he asked anxiously. ‘I’ve just had this bus done up.’

Duke gave a snorting laugh. ‘You’ve been seeing too many movies,’ he said, cheerfully. ‘This ain’t Chicago.’

‘That sure gives me a lotta confidence,’ the driver returned, bitterly, and swung into another street.

The tourer followed.

Duke took a five spot from his pocket and gave it to the driver. ‘Next corner, crowd on speed,’ he said. ‘When you’ve lost him, brake. I’ll jump out.’

‘You got that from the movies yourself, boss,’ the driver returned. He seemed suddenly much brighter.

They went through the motions without difficulty and Duke ducked into a doorway as the tourer entered the street. It went past swiftly. He still couldn’t see the driver, but he made a note of the licence number.

He walked quickly down the street, cut left and after a further two minutes walking came to the main street again.

He turned into a drug store and shut himself in a telephone, booth. He telephoned Police Records.

‘This is Harry Duke,’ he said. ‘Is that O’Malley?’

‘H’yah, Harry,’ O’Malley said. ‘What do you think of Destroyer for a place?’

Duke shoved his hat to the back of his head. ‘Forget it,’ he said. ‘That horse’ll come in so late his jock’ll be using a flashlight. Get on to El Nagani.’

O’Malley thanked him. Duke’s tips were the McCoy.

‘Listen,’ Duke went on. ‘Never mind racing for a moment. I want to trace a car.’ He gave O’Malley the licence number. ‘Can you get it fast?’

‘How fast?’ O’Malley asked cautiously.

‘I’ll wait for it.’

Duke heard O’Malley groan and he grinned. ‘What’s the matter? Tired of getting my tips?’ he asked.

‘You hang on. I’ll do it for you, Harry, only — well, you ain’t going to make a practice of this, are you?’

‘Go get it, you lazy Mick, and stop yapping.’

There was a long silence and then O’Malley came back on the line. ‘One of Vardis Spade’s cars. What’s the trouble?’

When O’Malley said ‘Spade’, Duke’s lips pursed into a soundless whistle. ‘No trouble,’ he said. ‘There was a judy driving who caught my eye.’

O’Malley struggled with his feelings. ‘Do you mean to tell me,’ he said, savagely, ‘you got me to turn up that number because of a dame?’

‘She was a nice dish, otherwise I wouldn’t have bothered you,’ Duke returned and hastily hung up.

FOUR

P
eter Cullen had just fixed his tie when he heard the stuttering roar of the old Ford engine which died abruptly as Clare switched off the ignition.

He grabbed his coat, touched the sides of his thick hair with a hairbrush and ran to the door.

As he reached the landing, he heard the Ford door slam and a moment later the sound of heels clicking down the passage. He hung over the banisters, anxious for his first glimpse of her.

Clare Russell meant a lot to Peter. It wasn’t because of her beauty. He had known a lot of beautiful women in his time and had grown tired of them. He believed that he was in love with her efficiency. She was so unlike the Usual girl in Bentonville or Fairview for that matter.

They had met quite casually when she called in at one of his filling stations for a minor repair to the Ford. He had been checking the books at the time and seeing her wandering up and down while the mechanic was working, he had gone out to her.

He found Clare friendly and he knew that she had liked him immediately she saw him. He was not slow and when she drove away, he had her telephone number in his notebook.

They met fairly regularly after that. He knew she was lonely and he knew too that she felt buried alive in Fairview. It was really easy for him as he took her about, liked the things that amused her and had a common interest in books and the theatre.

Now, Clare would come out every evening after work and they would either go to a movie or to a restaurant to talk.

Looking over the banisters, Peter caught a glimpse of her small glossy head as she came up the stairs.

He whistled softly and she looked up. Her big, dark eyes lit up when she saw him and she smiled, breaking into a run.

‘I’m not late, am I?’ she asked, coming to an abrupt halt when she reached him.

He looked down at her. ‘It’s striking eight now,’ he said, taking her elbows in his hands and drawing her a little closer to him. ‘It’s swell to see you. How are you?’

She raised her face and they kissed. ‘Oh, I’m all right. A little tired perhaps.’ She straightened his tie. ‘And you?’

‘I’m fine,’ he said, leading her into his room. ‘Come in a second. I’m nearly ready.’

She looked round the bright untidy room and rested her head against his shoulder. ‘I like it in here,’ she said. ‘All this is so like you, Peter.’ She glanced up at him, smiled and put his arm gently from her. She walked over to the big armchair and sat down, curling her long legs under her. ‘Sam was kidding me about you this evening,’ she said. ‘He’s found out about you.’

Peter began to put a variety of things into his pockets. ‘Has he?’ He glanced back to her. ‘Do you mind?’

‘Of course not. I’m glad. Sam’s been very good to me, Peter. I don’t know what I should have done without him.’

‘You’ve got me now.’

‘I know. It’s horrible to be lonely . . . especially for a girl. I don’t want any more of that.’

‘If you’ll only be sensible and marry me, you never will have to say that again.’ Peter glanced in the mirror, satisfied himself on his appearance and came over to sit on the arm of Clare’s chair.

‘No!’ Clare held up a long, thin finger. ‘Not tonight, Peter. We went all over that last night. I told you I’m not sure. I’ve been so long on my own. I’ve had to look after myself for so long that. . . well, I just don’t know.’

Peter touched her hair lightly. ‘All right. So long as I know there’s no one else. You know, darling, I could be horribly jealous of you.’

She shook his hand. There won’t be anyone else,’ she said. ‘You mustn’t talk like that. You must be sure of me. I like men who are sure. I don’t like men who feel inferior because I’ve got a nice figure, big brown eyes and a pretty dress.’

Peter grinned down at her. ‘Who said you had a nice figure, anyway?’ he asked.

‘Don’t you think so?’

‘I’m in the motor business. I never pass judgment on something I haven’t seen.’

‘And now, Mr. Cullen, you are becoming worldly.’

‘Certainly not. I’m merely running to type.’

‘In that case, I had better be very cautious and’ sit by the window where I can call for help if necessary.’

‘I’m glad you add if necessary.’ He smiled at her. ‘But, seriously Clare, I wish you’d marry me.’

‘And seriously, Peter, I wish you wouldn’t talk about it just now. Do you mind very much?’ She slipped her hand into his.

For a moment his face showed his disappointment, then he smiled. ‘I’m sorry, Clare. Tell me what you’ve been doing today.’

‘Oh, it’s been thoroughly tiresome from the moment I arrived at the office. I was hoping to get material for an article on the Fairview slums. Do you know Pinder’s End, Peter?’

‘I think so. Isn’t that the place just outside Fairview . . . a few bungalows and a lot of poverty?’

‘Hmm. That describes it very well. It’s a disgrace to the town. I feel so sorry for the people living there. They are almost like those dreadful characters in Tobacco Road. The Town surveyor has been threatening to clear them out for the past year and everything was fixed at the last Municipal session. Now, it has been shelved.’