Dead Stay Dumb (16 page)

     They stood in the darkness and stared up Dimly they could see a fire-escape straggling up into the darkness.
     Dillon moved forward cautiously. He could see the swing-up several feet above his head.
     “If I give you a back, you can reach it,” he said to Roxy.
     Roxy came forward reluctantly. “You're goin' to start somethin' in this joint,” he said uneasily.
     “Yeah!” Dillon leant against the wall. “You're goddam right. I am.”
     Roxy put his small shoe in Dillon's hands and Dillon hoisted him up. The swing-up came within reach of Roxy's fingers. He pulled gently, bringing the escape down slowly. It made no noise.
     Dillon began to walk up the escape quietly. Roxy followed him, Dillon peered into each window as he passed. Three rooms were in darkness, but on the fourth landing of the escape there was a blaze of light. Dillon shifted his gun from its holster and moved forward more slowly. Roxy stayed between the landings, waiting.
     Dillon edged his way closer to the window and glanced in. There were a number of people in the room. Dillon's eyes fixed on a small apeish-looking man who was sitting in a big overstuffed chair in the centre of the room. He guessed that must be Ernie. He raised his hand and beckoned to Roxy.
     Although the evening was close, the window was shut. Dillon could hear the buzz of talking faintly through the glass, and now and then the shrill high-pitched laugh of one of the women came to him with startling clearness.
     Roxy crawled up on hands and knees. Dillon said, keeping his head close to Roxy's, “That Ernie, the little mug sitting there?”
     Roxy took a quick look into the room and nodded. “Yeah,” he mumbled, “that's him.”
     Dillon watched the scene in the room thoughtfully. He fingered his gun, but he knew it would get him nowhere if he did start shooting. He had got to go down four flights of escape and by that time he'd be as dead as a pork chop.
     One of the women, a tall, brittle blonde, was making a big play at Ernie. She was holding a long glass full of Scotch, and by the way she giggled and swayed, Dillon guessed she was getting plastered fast.
     Ernie was watching her under his hooded eyes. His face was expressionless, but his little black eyes never left her.
     Dillon thought, in a moment or so something would blow up there.
     Someone put on a gramophone and faintly Dillon could hear the rhythmic pulse of the music. The blonde began to swing it. She stood in the middle of the room swaying her hips at Ernie. The others grouped round the walls, clapping their hands and shouting to her. She stamped round the room, contorting her body and snapping her fingers in time with the rhythm.
     Ernie sat like a stuffed monkey, his eyes gleaming a little brighter. She lifted her long skirts to her knees and pulled off a pretty fair high kick. Ernie took his hand out of his lap and scratched the side of his face. He got out of the chair and she swayed over to him, wrapping her long arms round his neck.
     Dillon thought they looked bad. She was a head taller than Ernie, and with her back turned to the window, Ernie disappeared from sight.
     The others in the room watched with interest. One or two of the other women giggled, but they didn't get smart. Dillon reckoned that Ernie wouldn't stand for much, and he was right.
     Maybe Ernie was a little guy, but he was right in the right places. He took the blonde by the arm and shoved her out of the room. The door closed behind them.
     Dillon cursed softly. He turned his head and looked at Roxy. “Now what?” he said through his teeth. “Where the hell's that guy gone to?”
     Roxy shrugged. He felt relieved. “I guess he's goin' to lay that dame,” he said thoughtfully. “Maybe we'd better take it on the lam.”
     “I'm goin' to get that guy, if I have to stay here all night,” Dillon returned. “Shut up, an' let me do the talkin'.”
     Roxy relapsed into gloomy silence. He glanced down into the dark street, but he couldn't see anything. Dillon suddenly clutched his arm. Roxy turned his head quickly. A light had sprung up on the next landing.
     “They've gone up there,” Dillon said. “Ain't that a break?”
     Without waiting for Roxy to say anything, he climbed up on to the next landing.
     The blonde was sitting on the bed trying to take off her dress. She was so drunk that she couldn't quite make it. She sat there struggling and giggling. Little Ernie was not in the room Dillon could see a light coming from a half-open door leading off the room, and he guessed he was in there.
     The blonde got to her feet and lurched through the door, leaving the room empty. Dillon put his fingers under the window frame and quietly lifted the window. He had a little struggle, but he managed it. The window slid back without any noise.
     Roxy came up, a gun in his hand. His eyes were popping out of his head.
     Dillon said quietly, “Stay here. If there's any trouble, shoot.”
     He put a leg over the window-sill and slid into the room. He stood listening in the middle of the room, his gun held by his side. Faintly, he could hear the two in the other room. They were not talking, but he could hear the blonde giggle and Ernie's grunts. He stepped quietly to the door and looked in.
     Little Ernie was dressed in a salmon-pink dressing-gown. He was standing with his back to the door. The blonde had got rid of her dress and she was facing Dillon. She was wearing a cloudy piece of chiffon that didn't cover her much. She saw Dillon standing in the doorway and she stiffened. The liquor died on her, leaving her sober and terrified.
     Dillon said, “Don't move, you two. I'm itching to blast you.”
     Little Ernie didn't bat an eyelid Dillon had to hand it to him. He just stood looking inquiringly at the blonde. She folded her hands across her breasts and moaned softly.
     Dillon moved into the room, stiff-legged, like a cat about to fight. He circled slowly round until he was behind the blonde, facing Ernie.
     “I guess you didn't expect to see me?” he said evenly.
     Little Ernie licked his lips. His small monkey-like face turned a little green.
     “I'm the guy you tried to rub out tonight,” Dillon said; “I guess this burg's too small for both of us. I guess you're comin' for a ride. Ernie... a one-way ride.”
     Ernie said, “Don't be a fool. You an' me can do things together in a big way.” His voice was thick, as if he'd a clot in his throat.
     Dillon sneered. “Yeah?” He shook his head. “You're too late on that stuff, Ernie.... It's curtains for you.” While he was speaking, he shifted his gun a little, so that he held it by its barrel. Then with a quick savage swing, he struck the blonde behind her ear with the butt of the gun.
     She went down like an inanimate doll. Dillon had Ernie covered in one movement.
     Ernie looked down at the blonde and shook his head. “That was a lousy one to pull,” he said.
     Dillon said, “Get goin'... you an' me are goin' for a ride.”
     Ernie looked at him, hesitated, then he turned and walked into the other room. He paused then. “I guess you'll let me dress?” he said.
     Dillon said, “Get outta the window... quick.” He rammed the gun into Ernie's back.
     Ernie climbed out of the window. He started back against Dillon when he saw Roxy. Dillon shoved him forward roughly. “Get goin',” he said.
     Roxy stood aside. Ernie began to move to the stairs. Dillon quietly slipped the gun into his holster and bent down quickly. He caught Ernie by his ankles and with a great heave threw the little man over the rail. It was done so quickly that Roxy couldn't believe his eyes. Ernie was there one second and vanished the next.
     Just one terrified squeal sounded in their ears, then a heavy dull thud as Ernie hit the flags down below.
     Dillon gripped Roxy's arm. “Get goin',” he said viciously. “We gotta get out of this quick.”
     They pelted down the escape and blundered into the dark alley. Dillon didn't pause to look at Ernie, but ran on to the street.
     Myra started the engine as she heard them coming Dillon swung himself on to the running-board. “It's okay,” he said. “You get into the back Roxy can drive.”
     She clambered over the seat and Roxy got in under the wheel. His teeth were chattering, but he managed to engage the gear.
     Myra said, “Did you get him?”
     “What the hell do you think?”
     Roxy said, “There's a guy in Springdale who'll hide us up until this blows over.”
     “Yeah?” Dillon said. “That's a good idea. You know this bird?”
     “Sure....” Roxy spun the wheel at Twenty-third Street and headed the car up Kansas Avenue Bridge. “I know him all right He's safe and they won't look for us there.”
     They shot across the bridge fast. Suddenly Myra leant forward violently and gripped Roxy's shoulder. “Stop!... stop!... stop!” she screamed.
     Roxy was so startled he nearly piled the car into a wall. He crammed on his brakes, throwing Dillon forward. “What the hell's wrong?” he demanded.
     Myra's face was livid in the street light. “Quick... where did you get this car?” she gasped.
     Roxy twisted and looked at Dillon. “She gone nuts?” he asked angrily. “Jeeze, I nearly crashed this heap.”
     Dillon didn't like the look on Myra's face. He demanded harshly, “What is it?”
     “Where did you get this car?” Myra repeated, pounding Roxy's arm with her fist.
     “Where the hell do you think I got it?” Roxy said surlily. “I knocked it off.”
     Myra turned wildly to Dillon. “The fool's finished us,” she shouted. “Can't you see we've taken this heap over the State line!”
     Dillon suddenly turned on Roxy, his fist clenched above his head. “You sonofabitch!” he snarled. “You've got the Feds on to us.”
     Roxy stiffened. “Hell! You'll have a crowd round us. What the hell do you mean... got the Feds on us?”
     Dillon said furiously, “It's a Federal offence to take a stolen car over the State line... Didn't you know that, you goddam bastard?”
     Roxy engaged his gear. His face had gone the colour of putty. “They'll hang Hurst on to us now,” he said unsteadily. They're sure goin' to get us now.”
     Myra said, “Get on... get on quick! We gotta get under cover.”
     The big car quickened. Dillon said, “When that bastard Strawn hears about this, he'll come a-runnin'.”
     Myra said between her teeth, “See what you've done, you lug.” She beat her fists on her knees. “We had it all an' you must get smart. I'm finished with you, do you understand? I'm washed up. We're through.”
     Dillon said, “You're through when I say so, an' not before. You know too much, an' what's more, Strawn will pin somethin' on to you... don't you think he won't.”
     Roxy called, “We gotta switch cars... this broken screen'll stop us. I'm goin' on a bit further, then we'll have to walk.”
     They drove on in silence. The night was very dark. There was no moon, and heavy threatening clouds hung low. Once in the open, the big beams of the car lit up the dirt road and they lurched and jolted as Roxy tried to keep up speed.
     Dillon said in an undertone to Myra, “You got any dough?”
     She said quickly, “What you think? I came away in a rush.” She put her hand cautiously on her bag that hung on her wrist. Dillon leant forward and ripped the bag from her. For a moment she hesitated, then she flung herself forward. Dillon was expecting her to start something, and he swung a backhand, knocking her into the corner of the car. “Cut it out,” he said viciously. “You ain't got no dough, so what you gettin' sore about?”
     He put his hand inside the bag and felt the big roll of money. He grinned to himself in the dark. Taking the roll out, he transferred it to his own pocket. He tossed the bag into her lap.
     She said feverishly, “Give me that dough.”
     Dillon said, “Be careful.” There was such an ugly threat in his voice that she shivered.
     Roxy slowed down. “Springdale's just ahead,” he said, “I guess we'll ditch this heap an' walk.”
     He ran the car off the road and stopped. The three climbed out. Dillon said. “I'll look good carrying this Thompson.”
     Roxy said, “Suppose you wrap it in your coat?”
     Dillon took off his coat and did as Roxy suggested. They began to walk down the dark road. Round the bend they could see lights.
     Roxy said, “This guy we're goin' to has big ideas. You'll have to pay him plenty.”
     Dillon said coldly, “We'll see about that.”
     They walked some way, Myra between the two men. Her mind was busy as she stumbled along the dirt road, not seeing where she was going. Dillon had got her money; without that she couldn't leave him. The Feds wouldn't stop until they got Dillon. Especially a guy like Strawn, who was just laying for him. Somehow or other she had got to get the money away from Dillon and get out quick, before anything happened. The Feds hadn't the same ideas as the cops when handling a woman.
     “That's it,” Roxy said suddenly.
     Just ahead of them they could see the outline of a building. One solitary light gleamed through the window.
     They hastened their lagging steps. Roxy said, “We'll go in the back, quiet.”
     They left the road and worked their way to the back of the building. It was so dark Myra kept stumbling, but the two men didn't offer to help her. She gritted her teeth furiously. She was on her own against these two, but she wasn't scared. She had plenty of confidence in herself.
     Roxy rapped on the door with his knuckles. Alter a short wait, the door opened A tall, thin form of a man peered at them.
     “That you, Joe?” Roxy said. “Gee! Joe, it's nice to see you. These are a couple of friends of mine.... Can we come in?”
     The man stood aside Sure,” he said, without enthusiasm, “come on in.”
     They entered a small, poorly furnished room, lit by an oil lamp. Roxy said, “This is Joe Chester, the guy I told you about.
     Joe had a thin skull-like face, and his big yellow teeth stuck out, giving him a foxy look. He glanced at the three furtively, rubbing his hands on the seat of his trousers. “I guess I'm glad to know you,” he said.
     Dillon grunted. He glanced at Roxy and jerked his head.
     Roxy said, “Listen, Joe. We wantta lie up here for a little while. Can you fix it? You know how it is.”
     Joe said, “I'll get a drink I guess we can talk better with a drink.”
     He went out of the room.
     Dillon said, “I don't like that guy.”
     Roxy shrugged. “He's okay. He'll fix us, you see.”
     Joe came back with a bottle and glasses. He put them on the table. The others sat down Myra sat away from them by the window. She glanced out into the dark night from time to time.