Authors: Gil Brewer
“We just going to stand here?” Lillian said.
Angers looked at her quietly. “I was thinking,” he said. “Didn’t Mrs. Graham have a car?”
I just stood there watching him. It was like being strapped down to a table, having a ceiling of knives coming at you, chopping away, and you talking about the weather.
“Sure she did,” he said. “It was a blue coupé, a club coupé.”
He sure had a sweet memory. It was something we could have done better without. I wondered if he remembered the dead as well as other things.
“I’ll bet it’s right there in the garage,” he said.
“We don’t want a car,” Lillian said.
I was over close to her now, and I reached behind her and grabbed her waist and she shut up. Let him get a car. He started toward the garage and I jammed my head close to her ear quick. “This is your chance. When the time’s right, run! From the car!”
She stiffened and her perfume was faint but good and I moved away as Angers turned.
“Come on,” he said.
We went up to the garage. The doors were open and Betty’s car was there, all right. I kept thinking, Maybe she’ll get a chance to run from the car. I wondered if she would take that chance.
“Well,” Angers said, “this is perfect, isn’t it?”
It was dark in the garage; the light from the street lamps didn’t penetrate far. He herded us in by the driver’s side, up by the hood. He opened the car door and felt around and said, “The keys aren’t here.”
So we had to go back into the house again. The keys were on the dressing table in the front bedroom. As we came through the hall past the living room, I glanced in and my breath hushed in my throat. I could have sworn I saw Betty Graham move. I had never looked to see how she was shot. I’d figured he’d done the usual perfect job and I was a little sick of seeing it. She was lying on her face in there beside Sam’s body, and as we walked by, I was sure she kind of propped herself up a little, then fell down again. If she could prop herself up after all this time, she had a chance.
• • •
“You drive, pal,” Angers said. “You and Lil sit up there. I’ll get in the back seat.” He got in and sat in the middle of the back seat, with the gun in one hand and the big roll of blueprints across his knees.
It was an old Dodge. Lillian glanced at me, then got in under the wheel and slid across to the door. I climbed in behind the wheel and sat there.
“Here,” Angers said. He handed me the keys. I stuck them in the ignition and started the car. She started right off and now I wished We hadn’t decided on the car. It could be a trap.
I backed her down the shadowed drive, brushing against some bushes, and out onto the street.
“Where to?” I said.
“Just drive around a while,” Angers told me.
As I started off, a woman came across the lawn of the house next to the Grahams’. It was Mary Fadden. Nobody on the block liked her much because she was a really terrific busybody. They had a double lot and the lawn was a big one, but she was bent on stopping this car. She waved and called, “Betty!”
Angers apparently didn’t see or hear her, because he said nothing. She sort of ran toward the car. Lillian reached over and grabbed my thigh, her fingers like steel clamps. I stepped on the gas and we went on down the street. I looked in the rear-view mirror and Mary Fadden was standing there, watching us. Then she started slowly up the front walk toward the Grahams’ front door. It was the first and only time in my life I felt happy about snooping females.
Lillian’s fingers relaxed and went away.
I heard a sharp metallic
snicker-snack
, and glanced around. Angers smiled at me and held up the gun. “I loaded the magazine,” he said. “A nine millimeter is a wonderful shell, pal. These here are more powerful than our standard factory loads, aren’t they?”
They were, but I said nothing. I went back to driving the car, feeling all hollow and rotten inside. It was my gun. It was my fault from the beginning that all this had happened. If only I’d let the son-of-a-bitch get himself hit by that bus!
You’re thinking cockeyed again, I thought. Get it straight in your head. You didn’t know. Nobody could have known. All right, but you had the gun, didn’t you? Sure, I had the gun. Well, then. You weren’t supposed to have the gun, remember that. There’s a law, friend. Concealed weapons, remember? Pistol permits. Remember? You laughed at it, but this would never have happened if you hadn’t been walking around with the gun.
“I wish you wouldn’t talk about that gun,” Lillian said.
I wheeled the car around a corner, heading downtown, where there were people. Angers didn’t seem to mind where we went. Nothing really bothered the guy. He just kept going right on through his crazy dream with his damned roll of blueprints.
And twice now he had reloaded the Luger without my catching him at it. He was wily. I made up my mind it wasn’t going to happen again.
“We could stop over at the hospital,” I said. “I could just run in and see Ruby.” I made it as ordinary as possible, trying to keep the strain out of my voice.
“No, Steve,” Angers said. “We haven’t time for that.”
I gripped the wheel till my hands hurt. “Look,” I said. “We’re just driving around. I wouldn’t be a minute.”
“He should,” Lillian said. “Steve should go see how his wife is, Ralph. You know that.”
He didn’t answer, which was a bad sign. I flicked my hand over against her leg and she kept quiet about it. She was beginning to prove herself. She was a fine girl, and if she’d been with him for weeks, as she said, she must have gone through plenty of hell. Today was the payoff. He hadn’t killed before. Now he’d snapped all the way.
I kept my hand on the seat between us, then tapped her leg again. She tensed; I could feel her leg tense on the seat. It was the first time I’d ever felt a girl’s leg under these conditions and it was no joke. I squeezed her thigh hard this time. I felt her look over at me and I pointed across her lap at her door. She moved a little in the seat, toward me, relaxing, then laid her hand down on mine and squeezed and it was as cold as ice, her fingers just like ice.
But she’d got it. I figured she would take the chance, whenever there was a chance. Then I didn’t want her to. He’d get her, sure. He’d blast the life out of her with that Luger and it was no good. It wasn’t worth it.
Or was it? I turned down Central off Ninth, into the business section of town. It was all bright with neon and people were sitting around on the green benches and walking up and down, window-shopping, or sitting in front of stores watching TV. This town was becoming a regular back alley of crime lately. The boys were getting the call, coming in from all over the country. Pinellas County was getting it in the neck, all right. It had started with purse-snatching and now you could name it and we had it. Every day somebody took a dive off a building and smashed his head and every night somebody got himself murdered or robbed or both.
You’d think folks would get used to it. They don’t, though. One thing, you never get used to death. I got to thinking about how true that was as we drew up by a red light. We were by a big radio store and they had a TV set mounted up over the entrance. We could see it fine, and it was loud. The sidewalk was jammed with people.
“Listen,” Angers said. “Listen to that, pal.”
We couldn’t help listening. It was us. It was Bill Watts up there, from WSUN, over Channel 38, laying the cards on the table. He had a news program, but it looked as if he was devoting all his time to Ralph Angers & Co. I knew Bill, and right now he was more serious than ever.
“Lock yourselves in your homes and don’t answer the doorbell,” Bill said. He hunched up at the desk and looked out at everybody. “The latest report, just received, is that Mrs. Betty Graham is alive. Police are on their way out there now, and some of you can no doubt hear the ambulance. So it’s that close to you. It’s not something to dismiss this time, ladies and gentlemen. We know there are three people: a woman known only as Lillian, a man from this city whom many of you doubtless know, Steve Logan, and Ralph Angers. Angers is the killer. So far he’s killed three and a woman is hanging by a thread. If Mrs. Graham lives and can talk some more, we’ll let you know. I repeat, they are driving a blue Dodge club coupé, license number”—Bill glanced at some notes on the desk—”four-W-one-one-eight-five-eight.”
A car behind us began honking. The light was green. I put the Dodge in gear and we crawled ahead.
Bill’s voice faded behind us. “Steve Logan’s wife is in the hospital, and if he hears this, he should make every effort possible to …” Then there wasn’t any more and we were in traffic headed down Central again.
“Try not to worry about her,” Lillian said. “You must try, Steve.”
I was choked with it. He’d been saying something about Ruby and I’d never know what. I stepped hard on the gas, driving down the center of the street.
“Take it slower, pal,” Angers said. “They’ll pick us up for speeding.”
“I’ve got to see my wife!”
He leaned over the seat and rested his hand on my shoulder. “It’s not important,” he said. “You’re just excited, that’s all. Anybody would be, hearing a thing like that. Now get out of the business section. We don’t want to be picked up, because I’ve got to build the hospital, remember?”
“Hospital! It’s crazy, can’t you see that? You can’t possibly think of doing such a damned thing. You’ll never get to first base with your damned hospital!”
I wheeled the car left on First Street, heading north.
He said nothing.
“Take it easy, Steve,” Lillian said. “You’ve got to.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I said.
“Everything depends on this,” Angers said. “Now just keep driving on out here a way. It’s nice and quiet out here.”
“Sure,” I said, and the bitterness was showing in my voice now. I looked over at Lillian and she was staring at me. She shook her head just a little and she was gnawing her lip again. She wasn’t sure what Angers would do if I began acting wrong. Well, I wasn’t sure, either. But I was getting fed up. Life is precious, sure. But after a while you get so you don’t care. You can get yourself worked up like that and not care a damn what happens. I was beginning to feel that way. I had to see Ruby, had to find out what was the matter over there.
I was driving fast now, then I remembered about Lillian maybe making a try to get away. That was something important. I didn’t think she could make it now, and I didn’t want her to try. It was probably all she was thinking about. I turned down toward the bay. We drove along by the big park out there, the great expanse of lawn a dim, cool gray in the darkness. Way over there you could see the lights of Tampa, across the bay, glowing red and fading against the black night sky. The air smelled of salt now, and there was a steady freshening breeze coming in from the bay. There wasn’t much traffic out this way.
“I needed this,” Angers said. “Driving is good for the brain. You think better. At least I do. It’s the motion of the car, I guess.”
“Sure.”
I reached out and gave Lillian’s thigh a hard squeeze. Twice I did it, then pointed emphatically at her door. She pressed my hand again with her cold fingers.
In the rear-view mirror I could see Angers resting back against the seat, with his head thrown back.
I began slowing the car a bit at a time, easy. We were coming along the end of the park now to where the street turned left along the bayou. At the end of the park were many palm trees and a lot of heavy shrubbery to the right.
I touched Lillian’s leg again, and made motions with my hand, pointing up ahead, making a turn, then opening the door handle on the car door. She sat very rigidly. I looked over at her and I knew she had got it. It could be I was sending her to her death. We had to take that chance, I knew. Either way, she would probably die, and this was the one chance she had to take. I didn’t want her to do it. But I knew it was the only thing she could do. I had no idea what was going to happen, if it worked.
I drew in close to the right side of the road, still slowing, with one hand on Lillian’s thigh, resting easy, holding her gently back, waiting.
“You know, pal,” Angers said, “I have to find where I want to build, too. It should be centrally located.”
“That’s right,” I said.
I held my hand on her leg, and we approached the turn. A car passed us, gunning away fast. I came in very close to the right-hand curb, with the shrubbery almost brushing the car, then started the turn. I slapped her thigh, pushed her toward the door.
She slammed down on the door handle. The door swung open, and before I’d made the turn, she was out of the car, running for an instant beside us, then off toward the bushes.
I slammed my foot on the gas, all the way to the floor.
“Lillian!” Angers shouted.
The door banged closed and the engine began to pick up speed. It was an old car, and the engine was tired. Too much gas choked it up and I sat there cursing.
“Stop, Steve! Stop the car.”
I kept easing it to her.
Angers got his window open, leaned way out, and the Luger began barking above the crazy whine of the engine. I looked back once, searching the road back there. I saw her running, her white dress bright against the night. She was running along the bushes toward the palm trees.
I heard the gun bang away, then stop, and Angers sat back in the seat.
“Empty!” he said. “Damn that woman!”
We were going plenty fast now, right along the sea wall beside the bayou. And Ralph Angers’ gun was empty.
T
HE ROAD
followed the bayou for perhaps a mile and a half, I knew. It was all residential out here, and on the left there were large homes, fronting the water. Piers jutted occasionally from the sea wall and boats were moored to some of them. I figured I’d get as far away from Lillian as I could before I did anything. I couldn’t let him get that gun loaded. The tires slid and grabbed on the glassy brick pavement.
“Stop the car, Steve!” Angers said. He reached out and grabbed my shoulder. “Lillian’s back there. Stop the car!”