Death Trap Read online

  “Why not?”

  “We were best friends like I said, but you should see how we live. I got two brothers in the Navy and they were smart to get the hell out. There’s five younger than me, and my old man is just no damn good. I seen times there was nothing in that house but rice. The joint is ready to fall down. So what happens if she tells me? Sooner or later I go tap him too. And another thing, when I get loaded I tell every damn thing I know. Jane Ann could keep her mouth shut. Sooner or later I’d tell the kids and everybody would move in on him and spoil it quick. The one thing it did was give me an idea. I think I’m going to have me somebody on the hook. I’m playing him easy. Anyway, that’s none of your damn business. I wonder where everybody got to.”

  “You don’t know how she actually got the money. By that I mean how it was given to her. In person, or mailed to her, or left some place for her.”

  “I wondered about that. I know it wasn’t mailed. And I don’t think it was a regular amount. Sometimes she was as broke as anybody. She hadn’t been buying things for a few months before she was killed. I thought she was broke, but from what you say, she was stashing it. Say! I remember something. She hinted about maybe the two of us taking a trip. Nothing real definite, but I bet she was saving it for that. Jeez, it’s too bad we never got to go. It would have been a ball.”

  “What did Jane Ann think of Landy?”

  “She said he was certainly a good match for Nance. She used to drive him nuts trying to heat him up a little. She said she wished she could get him off some place and teach him some facts. But she wouldn’t do it on account of Nancy.”

  “She thought that much of Nancy?”

  “She wouldn’t let us talk about what a cold fish Nancy is when she was around. She said if something was wrong with Nancy, there was one damn good reason for it. She used to try to make Nancy wake up and come alive, but it would just make Nancy cry. And she said that even if Landy was definitely on the creep side, it was good for Nancy to run around with a boy. I think Jane Ann was afraid Nancy would go queer. The only other boy friend Nancy had got drowned a little over two years ago. You know, it’s funny. Jane Ann was younger, but she knew so much more that I think she felt toward Nancy more like I feel toward my little sisters.”

  “Do you want your little sisters to live just like you do?”

  “Whip out your tambourine, brother, there’ll be some holy rollin’ tonight.”

  “I just wondered.”

  “Keep wondering. The Garson kids start with two outs and a full count and the bases loaded in the last half of the ninth, with Perry Score pitching. See what you think. What’s the best angle? Sing in the choir and make your self a virgin marriage to some clown who’ll keep you swole up with kids for twenty years, or get out where the people are? Get out and sharpen up. Take your choice.”

  “Where are you going from here, Ginny?”

  “Who wants to go? I’m already here. I’m having a ball. Maybe you ought to loosen up a little yourself. The way you rattle that tambourine gets on my nerves. Why don’t you buy me a steak and then we can curl up some place with a bottle?”

  “I guess not.”

  “How much is a dime worth? Eleven cents?”

  “Not to me.”

  “You act it. I won’t try to work you for more than the steak and the bottle.”

  “Jail bait, Ginny. Sorry.”

  “In this county? Sheriff Turnbull can’t even spell statutory rape. Skip it anyway. I changed my mind. Who you working for?”

  “Landy’s sister. She isn’t employing me. I’m a friend.”

  “That one. You know, Rook goes drooly over that one. He says she’s a sex pot. That I can’t make. To me all she needs is a broom and a pumpkin. Is she really any good? Rook is itching to know.”

  “I couldn’t tell you.”

  “Why don’t you just— Hey!” She reached over quickly and gave three fast taps on the horn ring. We were diagonally parked. The Cord eased in beside me, twin pipes burbling. Smith got out and came over to her side.

  “Been cruising,” he said.

  “They want anybody?”

  “I don’t know. They blocked Quarto and gave him the strip job. Mickey, the damn fool, had two sticks on her. What was left from what Powie brought back last week. So real fast she eats them. So she’s been heaving ever since. Quarto took her home. They didn’t even lift Quarto’s knife. He stuck it in his sock. It was a loose strip. Mickey could have stuck the sticks in her bra.”

  “It was better what she did.”

  “Maybe. You coming along?”

  “Forever didn’t last long.”

  “Come along or don’t. It’s Monday. Everything is breaking up. Maybe you should stay with buster here.”

  “It’s a drag job. He says he’s got better taste.”

  “Get out of the wagon, buster,” he said.

  “Me?” I said stupidly.

  “Not too much, Smith. He’s not a bad guy.”

  “Change your mind,” I said. “This is something I’m getting sick of. If I get out of this car—if I’m forced to get out of this car, you’re going to be a sick kid.”

  “This I eat,” he said. He stuck his hand in her window and snapped his cigarette into my face. The sparks stung ray cheek. The square was deserted. I got out. We met on the grass in front of the car. He feinted with his hands and kicked. I turned and took it on the thigh. He circled with hands held low, grinning. The girl got out of the car. In the silence I could hear her breathing louder than either of us. A street light made highlights on the rubbery ripple of his arm muscles. He was a quick and powerful kid. He moved well. I couldn’t afford carelessness.

  When he was close enough to warrant the gamble, I slapped at him with my open hand and my fingertips stung his nose. I saw the glisten as his eyes watered. “Get set,” he said. “Watch this, baby.”

  She watched. He had a nice combination. He feinted a kick, hooked me hard under the heart and stabbed at my eyes with the spread, rigid fingers of his left hand. I had been waiting for that wrist. I snapped both hands onto it, turned to my right, turned his wrist so I could use the rigid arm as a lever. He clubbed me once in the back of the head with his right fist just as I got my shoulder neatly socketed in his armpit. I levered down and heaved. He went on up and over. I ended up on my knees, still holding onto his wrist. He slapped full length against the ground, and all the air went out of him in an explosive whoof. I climbed him, rolled him, levered his left arm up into his back, pressed firmly on the back of his head and ground his face into the grass. I stood up, hauled him to his feet, held the front of his belt and backhanded him across the mouth, then back again, forehand and backhand, until my hand stung and his mouth was raw. He was sobbing and he got his hand into his pocket. When it came out with the expected knife, I clubbed the nerve center in his shoulder and the knife fell. I spun him, held both wrists behind him and ran him headlong into one of the park elms, not too hard. He went down to his knees. I picked him up then by crotch and upper arm, took two half running steps and heaved him as hard as I could into a dense stand of lilacs. He disappeared entirely. I went back and picked up the knife. I stuck the blade into a crack in the curbing and snapped it off. I threw the hilt toward the lilacs. My thigh was tightening where he had kicked me. I massaged it with my knuckles. I walked back to where Ginny stood. I was show-off enough to make a great effort to keep my breathing normal.

  “I remain uneaten,” I said.

  “Good God!” she said softly. “Did you—hurt him bad?”

  “If he’d put up a fight, I might have. But he didn’t.”

  “Smith can lick anybody in town but Barney Quillan.”

  “And me.”

  “Is he out? You know what he’ll do? He’ll wait and he’ll come after you with a piece of chain.”

  I raised my voice so he could hear it. “He’s not out. He’s in there and he can hear us, but he’s not moving. He comes out, and I’ll throw him up into a tree. He’s too asha
med to come out. He’d rather pretend to be unconscious and then he can be a big hero or something. I should have taken him over my knee. I forgot that part of it. And he won’t come after me with any piece of chain because he has a hunch that if he does, he’ll end up wearing it like a bow tie. He’s a small town punk and from now on he’ll move slow and easy with strangers. If he wants to stop me he’s either got to get a lot of friends together or use a gun. And he better be a good shot. Ginny, you tell your pals how I used him like a wheelbarrow and ran him into a tree. He’ll have a puffed mouth and a knot in his head and a shoulder that will stiffen up for a week. After that he can start parading his muscles again.”

  She moved closer to me. She looked up at me and licked her lower lip and said, “I’ll come along with you. We don’t need the steak or the bottle, do we?” She took my arm in both hands.

  I got my arm loose. “That wasn’t the idea. You stick around. Take care of him. He’ll want to explain to you how it happened. Thanks for the information.” I gave her the twenty.

  She sighed. “Okay. So thanks for the beer, too. ’Night, now.”

  As I got in the car she walked toward the lilac bushes and I heard her say in a wheedling tone, “Okay, little bunny rabbit. You can come out now. It’s safe. The bad man has gone away.” As I drove around the square to park behind the Inn, I wondered if I had done some unknown stranger a large favor. Had my timing been a half second off, one eye might very well have run down my face. When I thought of that I wished I had thrown a real scare into him, perhaps sat on his chest and taken his knife and made him do some begging.

  The police car was parked in front of the Inn. A big man was waiting for me in the front hallway. He sat on a small chair beside the breakfront that served as a reception desk. Charlie Staubs stood near by, leaning against a door frame, smoking a cigarette. Charlie gave me a quick warning look, a troubled look, and he shook his head slightly.

  The man came up off the chair. You can tell a great deal about physical condition in the way a big man stands up. There was no puff of effort, no readjustment of weight, no positioning of feet, no thrust of hand to help him. He just came quickly and easily up onto his feet with the lightness of a puff of smoke. There have been men like him in all times and in all races. It is a physical type. Small, hard head fastened to broad shoulders by a neck as wide as the head. Heavy features, coarsened by the abuse of petty authority, eyes small under heavy tissue of brows, arms long and heavy, thick hands hanging half curled. A long torso and short legs.

  He wore a gray corduroy sports jacket, a blue shirt open at the collar, dark trousers, black and white sports shoes. He could just as well have been wearing crude chain mail, and carrying the barbarian flail. Or the leather and short sword of a Roman legionnaire. There was a violence in him that excited the same apprehensive fear that you feel toward an uncaged animal.

  “This is Mr. MacReedy,” Charlie said. “Hugh—Barney Quillan.”

  He stood before me, legs planted, and studied me. He reached out very quickly and rapped a knuckle against the bruise on my left cheek bone. It hurt and I backed away and said, “What the hell!”

  “You got a lot of trouble,” he said. It was a deep rich voice with a liquid note in it, as though it bubbled up through dark oil.

  “What kind of trouble?”

  “We’ll tell you all about it. We got a complaint from Garson. We got a lot of other things. You come along. Go ahead. Right out the front door.”

  “Anything I can do?” Charlie asked quickly.

  “Get hold of John Tennant in Warrentown.”

  “That would be the one,” Quillan said. “It figures.”

  I walked ahead of him. The inner door was open. He pushed me off balance as I tried to walk through it, and my shoulder struck the frame. “Drunk, too,” he said.

  I turned around, fists clenched. He stood, waiting for me, looking mildly amused and very dangerous. Behind him Charlie shook his head violently. I turned around again and went meekly out the door. I got into the car with him and he drove around the square and a half block off the square to a dark building I recognized as being the town hall. He drove around to the back. There was a light over the back door, two lighted office windows.

  He pushed me in ahead of him, into the office. Just as I got inside the door he pushed me violently in the small of the back. I took two running steps forward and caught my balance by bracing my hands on the edge of a flat top desk. The man behind the desk was old and fat and pink. His fringe of hair was clean and white. His eyes were large, long lashed, of a vivid shade of violet. They were incongruous in the old pink face.

  “Here he is and he’s drunk,” Quillan said.

  “I’m not drunk.”

  “Sit down, please, sir,” the man behind the desk said. His voice was high and merry, with a lilt of good cheer to it. “Sit down right there, sir. I am the Chief of Police here. My name is Score. Percy Score. Thank you, Barney. Suppose you have a seat too, and we’ll go over this little matter. Jerry Garson was very, very upset. One of his friends had to have a doctor, Mr. MacReedy. This is a small town. We deal very severely with violence of this sort.”

  “Three of them jumped me, as I was getting into my car.”

  “I assume you can prove the car isn’t stolen. You have Chicago plates. Let me see your registration. Don’t give me the wallet, please, sir. Just take the registration out and hand it to me. And your driver’s license, if you will.”

  I realized as I handed the license over that it had expired and I had forgotten to renew it. The Chief pulled a pad over in front of him and wrote on it. He pushed the papers back to me. “So far, sir, you are accused of driving while intoxicated and of having an improper license to operate a motor vehicle.”

  “Just a moment.”

  “Let us get on, sir, to this matter of assault. Jerry Garson advises me that you pretended to be a magazine writer. He identifies you as the man who worked as an engineer on a construction job near here three years ago and who, at that time, was involved with the Landy woman.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “When it was discovered you were lying, and that your purpose was to talk to Jerry Garson’s daughter, the three men crossed the road with you, and they were remonstrating with you. You had learned where Miss Garson might be found. Without provocation, you attacked Jerry and his friends, injuring one of them seriously.”

  “That’s a lie.”

  “It is up to the court to determine who is lying. Mr. Garson and his friends are willing to sign a complaint. We will drop that for a moment, sir. To continue, we have learned that you found Virginia Garson at a place called the Big Time Burger. You asked her to join you. She joined you in your car. You purchased alcoholic beverages for her. That can be construed as tampering with the morals of a minor, sir. The waitress will give evidence against you.”

  “But those kids were all drinking—”

  “And when Quillan arrived in a police car, you left the area with the girl in your car.”

  “At her request.”

  “And, sir, you have contacted Miss Nancy Paulson and you have spent time with her. You were seen sitting on a bench together in the square. You helped the Landy woman move out of her apartment. You visited Landy in the death house. From your activities here, sir, it could be assumed that you are working as a private investigator. Do you have a license to operate in this state?”

  “No. I—”

  “If you had one it could be rescinded for your failure to inform police officials in the area of your operations. Operating without a license is a crime, Mr. MacReedy, sir.”

  “I’m just a friend.”

  “He asked Charlie Staubs to contact John Tennant for him, Perry,” Quillan said.

  The old man looked at me out of his incongruously beautiful eyes. He pursed eraser-red lips. “You felt you would have need of an attorney, sir?”

  “Am I under arrest?”

  “This is a small town. Up until this past year it w
as a very quiet small town, Mr. MacReedy, sir. We have had an unfortunate murder here. She was the daughter of one of the leading citizens of the village. Landy was a student in Sheridan College. The murder has complicated relationships between the town and the hill. We will all rest easier after Landy has been legally executed. It is my sworn duty to keep my neighbors from being annoyed by people like you, sir. I will not have you stirring up trouble. I will not have you blundering about in some amateur attempt at investigation of a crime that is already closed and off the books.”

  “Even if you didn’t catch the right man?”

  “That is an impertinent comment, sir. Lieutenant Frank Leader of the State Police conducted the investigation. The evidence was sufficient to indict Landy for murder. The jury found the evidence conclusive and brought in a verdict of guilty with no recommendation for mercy. The death sentence is mandatory, and has been passed. No further appeals are possible.”

  “Am I under arrest?”

  “You know what charges we can place against you. You know that we can make some of them stick, sir. But it is an expense to the taxpayers to maintain you in prison. We would prefer that you check out of the Inn, get into your automobile and leave. Are you employed?”