Shakedown (13 page)

My stomach rumbled and then I tasted the bitterness of vomit in my mouth, and I opened my mouth wide to spray the bastard. But he must have known what was happening. He stood back, and the man behind released my arm.

I took one shaky step toward Moose and the floor came up to meet me.

I
WOKE TO THE
sour smell of vomit and a dim room. The afternoon sun was on the other side of the house, and it must have been low in the sky.

He hadn’t touched my face, but my stomach was one big ulcer. For minutes after coming to, I lay on the floor, unable to move. I’d get the son-of-a-bitch for this if it took the rest of my life. Both of them. And Jennings, too. A chill moved through me, and I gagged, but my stomach was empty. I moved on all fours toward the couch and crawled up onto it before turning over on my back.

It hurt to breathe and the exertion of crawling made me breathe heavily for over a minute. There was nothing in my legs; they were like tired rags of flesh.

I lay there, not thinking, as the room grew dimmer, as the ache in my stomach grew. Then I started to figure what I could use for a weapon, but the room contained nothing.

And there was only the one way out, that door. It gave me an idea. The switch was near the door so whoever came could turn on the light as soon as he entered the room. But the couch was shielded to some extent by the jutting fireplace. If I turned the couch so that only the bottom end was visible from the doorway. …

I got up slowly, and swung the couch a bit and then walked over to the doorway to see it from there. Only about six inches of the end of the couch were visible from the doorway. I took off my shoes and laid them on their sides on the couch, and went back to look again. It was perfect.

And the door swung the right way. I’d be shielded by it. I tried the switch and saw which lights it was wired to and went around the room, disconnecting those lamps on the far side of the doorway. The lamps near the couch and the fireplace I didn’t touch. I wanted those shoes in plain sight.

I was blowing like a whale after only that much exertion. If they should see me behind the door, and it came to a fight, I’d be lost. Moose had robbed my legs of all their strength. And if I did get out, how far could I go on legs like these? To the nearest house, where I could phone the police? And how far was the nearest house?

There were no lights in evidence through the bank of windows, but of course the road wasn’t down that way. I tried to remember any houses we passed coming up here. There was one a half mile back that I remembered, but none between that house and this. Though I could have missed some driveways of houses set back in the hills. And then, as I stood there, looking at the door, I realized I had a potential weapon within reach. There was a big, brass doorknob on this side of the door and the set screw that held it was loose.

The door opened into the room, so whoever came would be pushing on the doorknob and wouldn’t realize this one was off. And when I went out through the door, I’d take the knob on that side along. Not only because it would lock Moose or his partner in the room temporarily, but it would also serve as another weapon. And as evidence that I was here.

The doorknob was solid and heavy and I cupped it in my hand, and turned off the lights again. I leaned against the wall in the dark room, breathing shallowly, taking all the strain I could off my bruised stomach muscles. My head was throbbing only a little now.

“Then, on the floor above, I heard footsteps and voices in a quiet conversation. Of the conversation, I heard only the last sentence, and it was, “I’ll go down and see. Wait here.”

One
man was coming down. But the other would be waiting at the top of the steps, and that was almost as bad. I stood away from the wall a few feet where I would be shielded but not hampered by the opening door.

The footsteps grew louder as they came down, and then there was the rattle of the knob, and I tensed, holding the big part of my weapon cupped in my hand, the smaller end exposed for the blow. I hoped for a clean shot at the temple and the smaller end would do the most damage there.

The door opened, and the light flashed on. It was Moose, and he said, “Okay, Lenny; he’s over on the couch.” He came into the room and took a step toward the couch.

The light in front of him outlined him perfectly, and my stockinged feet made no noise as I came from behind the door. But on the steps above, Lenny must have seen me pass the doorway, because he shouted, “Look out, Moose!”

Moose turned, but too late. The doorknob caught him right above the ear, and he started to crumple as I turned for the steps. I pulled the door shut behind me, and the outer doorknob was now free in my left hand. And Lenny was racing down the steps before he realized I was the man on the way up.

He tried. He swung a solid right hand that caught me under the eye, and he managed to slam an elbow to my mouth before I brought up the doorknob from below.

It caught him on the point of the chin, and he started to sag into me. I twisted up against the wall of the stair well, and clubbed him twice more with the knob in the other hand. He pitched full length down the rest o£ the stairs as I slid past and staggered to the top. My legs were going again, and I stopped a second at the top of the stairs to get my breath.

I was in an entry hall lighted with the overflow of light from a huge living room beyond. Jennings was walking swiftly across the room from an archway at the far end, heading my way. Even Jennings might be too much for me, now. I was still in the shadow of the entry hall, and I said, “Stay where you are, damn you!”

He stopped dead, trying to peer out into the darkness of the hall. I held the outer doorknob slightly forward, the shaft pointed toward Jennings. I hoped, in the darkness, it might look like a gun. Evidently it didn’t, because he turned his back to me, and started back the way he’d come. He was probably going for a gun.

I threw the shaftless doorknob with all my strength at the back of his head, but I was high, way high. It went sailing over his head to crash into the huge mirror above the fireplace at the far end of the room. The heavy glass shivered and splinters sparkled in the brightness of the living room as I headed for the front door to my right.

Then there was asphalt under my feet and I moved toward the road. I’d hoped a car would be parked in the parking area, but there was none in sight, and I didn’t want to hang around to check the garage. Besides, when a car is in the garage, the keys are very rarely left in it.

It was all downhill to the right, and I moved at a pretty good pace.’ I must have been over two blocks away when I saw the headlights sweep out of Jennings’ driveway.

I had one thought only: to get off the road into some kind of cover. It was too dark to see anything; it was just luck that I picked a spot where there was no canyon. But there was a hill, and I pitched forward into the dry grass and went sliding on my sore belly down a hill only a few degrees short of perpendicular. And then I heard a dog barking, and I saw the lights below, and everything got hazy for a while.

I’d stepped off the road just short of a hairpin turn, and this was the house on the road below. I never would have made it if I’d gone the long way around because the headlights of Jennings’ car swept past above as I tumbled into the backyard of his nearest neighbor.

I heard someone shouting to the dog and the backyard floodlights went on as I lay there, fighting to stay clear and conscious. Then a dog’s cold nose was nuzzling my face and I called out and there was the shadow of a man above me, and I managed to say, “Phone the police. Quick.”

He called my words back toward the house and then bent over me. “Can you get up? Are you able to walk?”

I made it to the house with his help, and there he helped me stretch out on a davenport in his big living room. My mouth was bleeding from Lenny’s elbow punch and the eye he’d caught was closing.

The man above me was pale, now. “Migawd, your face is a mess.”

“You should see my belly,” I said, and closed my eyes.

The men who came were from the West Los Angeles station and I didn’t know either of the detectives nor the prowl-car pair. The ambulance came after that and the interne took one look at my battered stomach and went out for the stretcher.

By this time, I’d told the detectives about Jennings and Jelko and Lenny and asked them to get in touch with Captain McGill of the Hollywood station. Then I pretended to be a hell of a lot worse than I was and answered the rest of their questions in a pseudo-hysterical gibberish.

I didn’t need a hospital, but I wanted time to think. And the bump Lenny’s sap had raised on the back of my skull was enough to make the interne consider the possibility of a concussion. He cut the detective’s questioning short.

At the hospital, after the examination, they gave me a sedative. I needed that about as much as another bump on the head. I was asleep in five minutes.

A nurse brought me a paper in the morning, and I had front page publicity. Jelko was identified as a prominent movie star and Jennings as a prominent local attorney. I was not called prominent, but the victim of a “brutal assault and kidnapping.”

The police, according to the paper, were at a loss for any motivation for the action of either Jelko or Jennings. At first, they had denied the charges, but the vomit on the floor of the den, the broken mirror and the doorknob found near where I’d slid down the bank had nailed them. They’d refused to answer any questions after this evidence was brought up.

Around eight, I had breakfast. Milk toast.

At nine, Captain Enoch McGill made his appearance, accompanied by Veber. He smiled and Veber smiled and then McGill sat down cozily on the chair next to the bed and Veber leaned against the wall near the door.

McGill said, “Rough time you’ve had, laddie. And you asked for me. Going to come clean, are you?”

I closed my eyes as though a great shooting pain had flashed through my skull. Sympathy, I wanted now. In a low, forced voice, I said, “Come clean? That was my trouble, Captain. I was too clean, too ethical.”

Veber coughed, and I looked his way. His face was blank.

McGill said, “Veber’s always been a cynic.”

“Most cops are,” I said. “On his pay, I’d be cynical, too.”

Veber smiled, saying nothing. One of Manny’s pals, Veber was.

I said, “I think it goes back to the Condor case, but I can’t be sure. And as soon as I’m up and around, Captain, I intend to work on that angle further.” I took a deep breath. “For free.”

McGill nodded. He looked sympathetic, but he’s got a lot of ham in him. His eyes didn’t leave my face.

I forced my tired voice again. “I wouldn’t want this angle given any publicity in the papers because it might tip off the man I’m looking for. You can handle that, can’t you, Captain?”

He nodded. “Who are you looking for?”

“Deutscher.”

McGill looked at Veber and Veber’s face remained blank. I wondered if they’d found Deutscher.

McGill said, “Why Deutscher?”

“I think he was guilty of subornation. I think he bribed Target and Josie Gonzales to testify his way in the Bea Condor case.”

Veber smiled and shook his head. “You
think—?
Give us something new, Joe.”

I stared at Veber for seconds and then said, “I gave Captain McGill something new the other day. I told him that I’d heard Jennings was mishandling Rickett’s money.
Somewhere
in the department, there was a leak. And I wind up in the hospital.”

Veber stared back. “Are you suggesting that I—”

“You,” I said, “or somebody like you, some cheap cynic who—”

Veber took a step my way and McGill said sharply, “That will be enough, Sergeant. You can wait in the hall.”

Veber went out. McGill said, “You just don’t like policemen, do you?”

“We have a mutual animosity pact,” I said. “I never liked Veber, I’ll admit. But I liked Manny until he fell for that prostitute and started to get into my hair. I wanted Veber out of here, though. Because I want you to co-operate with me, Captain.”

He didn’t say anything, but he looked receptive.

I said, “I don’t want any of this tied up to the Condor case in the newspapers until I find Deutscher. I’ve got to clear myself of the rumours running through the police department about my part in that case. My professional standing depends on it.”

McGill nodded and took a breath. “The papers will want some kind of story.”

“I’ve got one,” I said, “that can be leaked out of the Department. I was investigating a big, money-making promotional deal and Jennings was representing competing interests who tried to force the information out of me. That will add up because I did have a little investigation job for a clique of investors in town only a week back. The information is in and the land has been bought, so it won’t hurt anybody if the leak’ comes now.”

McGill, I could see, was giving it a lot of thought, looking for the angle. Finally, he asked, “Who told you about Jennings mishandling Rickett’s money?”

“Deutscher.”

A long silence in the room, and then McGill said, “So Deutscher knew about it and didn’t tell us.”

“I guess, Captain. Anyway, he had his suspicions. Now about that fight I had with Jelko at the nightclub—I was drunk that night, and I may have mentioned to Jelko that I was suspicious of Jennings. I can’t remember much of the evening, but it could have happened. That’s why he must have slugged me there, to scare me off that line of investigation.”

McGill nodded. “Well, we’ll have reason enough to examine his books, now. I’ll see that no bail is set. And this Jelko is a friend of Little Phil’s too, isn’t he? That seems to tie Little Phil in with Jennings.” He paused. “And Bea Condor.”

“I intend to investigate that,” I said. “I think I can do more, unofficially, than the Department can do officially, right now. Little Phil keeps pretty well covered, but I might make a deal with him.”

McGill was chewing his lower lip, looking out across the room. “I sure as hell would like to get the true story on that Bea Condor kill. She was a real, sweet kid. It’s a case I never gave up on, Joe.”