Chapter 14
It was a few minutes of eight as I parked the Porsche in its familiar stall at my apartment. The place would probably resemble a morgue until I got used to it. The plush and sensual atmosphere at the home of the seven deadly sinners' had managed to spoil me, and I'd miss it. I hadn't brought my things with me, because I was going to return to it with Dave, so he could make whatever arrangements were necessary to take care of Carol Rutledge.
That was my surprise to him, and I wondered what his was to me. Something about a matter of my life or my death, he'd said over the phone. It sounded quite serious.
I walked up the steps and across the courtyard, my heels making sharp sounds in the silence. My apartment was darkened, and Dave was not outside waiting. I applied my key to the lock and walked in, closing the door behind me. I reached for the light switch, flicked it on, and the room lights flared into brilliance.
"You're very prompt, Mr. Sly," a male voice said.
I stared at him. It was the hood who had clobbered me in my apartment and who had tried to kidnap Naomi the night before. He was sitting casually in a chair, legs crossed, smiling, his hair neatly combed, his business suit unwrinkled, looking very much like a business man-except for his usual exception, the gun in his hand.
"What do you want now?" I asked him.
"You really shouldn't be too impatient, Mr. Sly Because when we're through talking here, I'm going to kill you."
He said it calmly enough, with a sincere smile, but the tone of it made me feel cold.
I backed into a chair and stared at him. He'd taken my .38 special from me the night I was in the Porsche, and my spare was in the headboard of the bedroom a long way from where we were.
"Why?" I asked.
He shrugged. "A number of reasons. The one I'm really interested in, however, is revenge."
"Revenge?"
"Yes, nothing more complicated than that. You slammed a car door into my groin last night-"
"It was in self-defense," I said.
"It hurt," he said. "It might even have injured me permanently. Fortunately, it didn't. But it could have. And I don't like pain, Mr. Sly, not when I'm on the receiving end. So I'm going to kill you."
One think I had to do was stall for time. Perhaps, when Dave Keller got here, the distraction would enable me to get out of this mess. A matter of life and death, Dave had said. It was ironic that it had turned out like that so soon after the prediction.
Except perhaps it was not so ironic after all. Perhaps-the thought catapulted through my mind-Dave Keller had known about it all along!
Suppose Dave himself were working for the Mafia. He could easily have set me up for the trap I'd walked into.
"You're very quiet," the man said, amused. "Are you saying your prayers?"
I ignored the sarcasm. "You said there were other reasons for killing me. Like what, for example?"
"For example, I don't like you," he said. "I do like your girl friend Naomi, though; she's very nice. After you're gone, I expect to visit her and see that she doesn't get lonely."
"You bastard!"
"Mainly, though, there are business reasons. You were brought into the picture for a particular purpose-"
"To find Carol Rutledge," I supplied.
"Exactly. You accomplished the job in record time, and we're quite proud of your resourcefulness. However, you also worked yourself out of a job."
"So why can't we just leave it at that?"
He shook his head. "Because you know too much. You may not realize it, but you do. We have no choice but to get rid of you. Not that I mind, of course. In fact, I'll enjoy watching you die."
I believed he would. Casually, I glanced around the room looking for a weapon. I didn't want to go, but if I had to, I'd put up a struggle. I just hoped I could get in one good Karate blow before he put a hole in me. "How does Dave Keller fit into the picture?"
"Exactly the way he told you. If you're expecting him to show up and fescue you, you may as well forget it. I took care of him, just before you arrived. I was waiting for him, just as I was for you. I didn't want to get blood on your carpet, so I dumped him in on your bed."
He sighed impatiently and thumbed back the hammer of his weapon.
"This conversation is beginning to bore me," he said. "Do you have any final words?"
"A few. I'd like to know how you found out I was going to meet Dave here tonight. And how you know who Carol Rutledge is when I didn't tell you."
He grinned at the secret. "Sure, I'll tell you, Sly. You'll probably be very much amused. In fact, I have the suspicion you'll die laughing."
He frowned at a sound.
"Yes?" I prompted.
He waved his head in an irritated gesture for me to be quiet, and I tensed myself in the chair. The bedroom door crashed open, and instinctively he brought his gun to bear on the figure standing there. At that moment, I sprang from the chair and slammed the edge of my hand into his wrist.
He yelled, and the gun clattered onto the floor and skidded across the carpet, coming to rest against the wall. My impetus landed me heavily on top of him, and the chair toppled over and we both went down on the floor in a scramble of arms and legs.
We rolled, panting, seeking leverage, and he came out on top. He was not nearly so calm now, but there was a determined look on his features. He raised a fist, brought it down savagely toward my face. I moved my head, fast, and the blow landed heavily on the floor. He winced with the sudden pain and shifted balance slightly and I kept him going with a blow to the neck that lifted him almost to his feet. I slammed a fist into his abdomen and rolled him off me.
I scrambled to my feet and whirled to face him. But his outstretched hand had closed about the weapon on the floor and he brought it up with a triumphant grin on his face. His finger tightened on the trigger.
There was a sudden roar, and the side of his face exploded. The impact whirled him over on his stomach, where he lay quiet and unmoving.
I looked up. "Thanks."
"Don't mention it," Dave Keller said.
My spare .38 was hanging limply in his hand, and he was walking toward me supporting himself with one hand against the wall. His clothes were wrinkled and bloody and there was a hole in his shirt from a bullet. I went to help him, but before I got there he fell in a heap on the floor.
I rushed to the phone and called an ambulance. Then I called the police station and got Lieutenant Prine on the phone. Even while I was telling him the story I could hear the ambulance sirens shrieking toward us.
"This is going to be a full night for you, Sly," he said. "We've got a lot of questions to ask you."
"How do you mean?"
"We got a call about a half hour ago from Charlotte Rice, Somebody apparently broke into the place, ripped the clothes off one of the girls and tried to kill her."
I felt cold. "Which girl?" I asked him. "Joanne Murray," he said. "Know her?"
"I know her," I said.
"But not nearly as well as you wanted to," he said.
I forced myself to be patient. "What are you driving at, Prine?"
"One of the girls overheard a conversation between you and the Murray girl in your bedroom. She wouldn't let you do what you wanted! It's easy to see what might have happened. You were angry, so you went up to see her and tried to force your attentions on the girl. She resisted, so you hit her and tore the clothes from her."
"That's not true!" I said, more hotly than I'd intended. "Why don't you ask her?" , "Because she's in the hospital with head injuries," he said, "and is unconscious. Meanwhile, we'd like to have you drop down to the station tomorrow morning, and we'll have a little chat about it."
"I'll be there," I said.
"Fine-and don't leave on any sudden trips to Mexico."
I answered him by slamming the receiver down on the hook. I wasn't worried about any charges he might attempt, but his attitude annoyed me.
The ambulance arrived and rushed Dave to the hospital. The other body they didn't have to hurry with; he was dead. The police arrived and took pictures and asked questions. Finally, around midnight, they left, taking with them the body and also my .38 special Dave had used.
The body I could get along without, but the weapon I could have a use for, at least for moral support. I knew my job wasn't over yet. I had one more trip to make, with many questions I'd have to have answered myself, and with luck I'd get the answers to those questions and maybe even come back alive!