Everybody's Watching Me Page 5

  I grinned too. “Vetter. They hate the name. It scares them.” I pulled on the butt again. “It scares me too when I think of it too much.”

  “You don’t have anything to worry about.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Keep playing it smart. You know what they’re after?”

  I nodded, even though he couldn’t see me. “Cooley comes into it someplace. It was something he knew.”

  “Smart lad. I knew you were a smart lad the first time I saw you. Yes, it was Cooley.”

  “Who was he?” I asked.

  Nothing for a moment. I could hear him breathing and his feet moved but that was all. The red light on the tail of the caboose winked at me and I knew it would have to be short.

  “An adventurer, son. A romantic adventurer who went where the hunting was profitable and the odds long. He liked long odds. He found how they were slipping narcotics in through a new door and tapped them for a sweet haul. They say four million. It was a paid-for shipment and he got away with it. Now the boys have to make good.”

  The caboose was almost past now. He said, “I’ll call you if I want you.”

  I flipped the butt away, watching it bounce sparks across the dirt. I went on a little bit further where I could watch the fires from the jungles and when I had enough of it I started back.

  At the tree the guy who had been waiting there said, “You weren’t thinking of hopping that freight, were you, kid?”

  I didn’t jump like I was supposed to. I said, “When I want to leave, I’ll leave.”

  “Be sure to tell Mr. Carboy first, huh?”

  “I’ll tell him,” I said.

  He stayed there, not following me. I passed the buildings again, then felt better when I saw the single street light on the corner of Main. There was nobody there that I could see, but that didn’t count. He was around someplace.

  I had to wait ten minutes for a bus. It seemed longer than it was. I stayed drenched in the yellow light and thought of the voice behind the fence and what it had to say. When the bus pulled up I got on, stayed there until I reached the lights again and got off. By that time a lot of things were making sense, falling into a recognizable pattern. I walked down the street to an all night drug store, had a drink at the counter then went back to the phone booth.

  I dialed the police number and asked for Gonzales, Sergeant Gonzales. There was a series of clicks as the call was switched and the cop said, “Gonzales speaking.”

  “This is Joe, copper. Remember me?”

  “Don’t get too fresh, sonny,” he said. His voice had a knife in it.

  “Phil Carboy paid me some big money to finger Vetter. He’s got men tailing me.”

  His pencil kept up a steady tapping against the side of the phone. Finally he said, “I was wondering when you’d call it in. You were real lucky, Joe. For a while I thought I was going to have to persuade you a little to cooperate. You were real lucky. Keep me posted.”

  I heard the click in my ear as he hung up and I spat out the things into the dead phone I felt like telling him to his face. Then I fished out another coin, dropped it in and dialed the same number. This time I asked for Captain Gerot. The guy at the switchboard said he had left about six but that he could probably be reached at his club. He gave me the number and I checked it through. The attendant who answered said he had left about an hour ago but would probably call back to see if there were any messages for him and were there? I told him to get the number so I could put the call through myself and hung up.

  It took me a little longer to find Bucky Edwards. He had stewed in his own juices too long and he was almost all gone. I said, “Bucky, I need something bad. I want Jack Cooley’s last address. You remember that much?”

  He hummed a little bit. “Rooming house. Between Wells and Capitol. It’s all white, Joe. Only white house.”

  “Thanks, Bucky.”

  “You in trouble, Joe?”

  “Not yet.”

  “You will be. Now you will be.” That was all. He put the phone back so easily I didn’t hear it go. Damn, I thought, he knows the score but he won’t talk. He’s got all the scoop and he clams up.

  I had another drink at the counter, picked up a deck of smokes and stood outside while I lit one. The street was quieting down. Both curbs were lined with parked heaps, dead things that rested until morning when they’d be whipped alive again.

  Not all of them though. I was sure of that. I thought I caught a movement across the street in a doorway. It was hard to tell. I turned north and walked fast until I reached Benson Road, then cut down it to the used car lot.

  Now was when they’d have a hard time. Now was when they were playing games in my back yard and if they didn’t know every inch of the way somebody was going to get hurt. They weren’t kids, these guys. They had played the game themselves and they’d know all the angles. Almost all, anyway. They’d know when I tried to get out of the noose and as soon as they did, they’d quit playing and start working. They wouldn’t break their necks sticking to a trail when they could bottle me up.

  All I had to do was keep them from knowing for a while.

  I crossed the lot, cutting through the parked cars, picked up the alley going back of the houses and stuck to the hedgerows until I was well down it. By that time I had a lead. If I looked back I’d spoil it so I didn’t look back. I picked up another block at the fork in the alley, standing deliberately under the lone light at the end, not hurrying, so they could see me. I made it seem as though I were trying to pick out one of the houses in the darkness, and when I made up my mind, went through the gate in the fence.

  After that I hurried. I picked up the short-cuts, made the street and crossed it between lights. I reached Main again, grabbed a cruising cab in the middle of the block, had him haul me across town to the docks and got out. It took fifteen minutes longer to reach the white house Bucky told me about. I grinned to myself and wondered if the boys were still watching the place they thought I went into. Maybe it would be a little while before they figured the thing out.

  It would be time enough.

  The guy who answered the door was all wrapped up in a bathrobe, his hair stringing down his face. He squinted at me, reluctant to be polite, but not naturally tough enough to be anything else but. He said, “If you’re looking for a room you’ll have to come around in the morning. I’m sorry.”

  I showed him a bill with two numbers on it.

  “Well…”

  “I don’t want a room.”

  He looked at the bill again, then a quick flash of terror crossed his face. His eyes rounded open, looked at me hard, then dissolved into curiosity. “Come…in.”

  The door closed and he stepped around me into a small sitting room and snapped on a shaded desk lamp. His eyes went back down to the bill. I handed it over and watched it disappear into the bathrobe. “Yes?”

  “Jack Cooley.”

  The words did something to his face. It showed terror again, but not as much as before.

  “I really don’t…”

  “Forget the act. I’m not working for anybody in town. I was a friend of his.”

  This time he scowled, not believing me.

  I said, “Maybe I don’t look it, but I was.”

  “So? What is it you want?” He licked his lips, seemed to tune his ears for some sound from upstairs. “Everybody’s been here. Police, newspapers. Those…men from town. They all want something.”

  “Did Jack leave anything behind ?”

  “Sure. Clothes, letters, the usual junk. The police have all that.”

  “Did you get to see any of it?”

  “Well…the letters were from dames. Nothing important.”

  I nodded, fished around for a question a second before I found one. “How about his habits?”

  The guy shrugged. “He paid on time. Usually came in late and slept late. No dames in his room.”

  “That’s all?”

  He was getting edgy. “What else is there? I didn�
��t go out with the guy. So now I know he spent plenty of nights in Renzo’s joint. I hear talk. You want to know what kind of butts he smoked? Hobbies, maybe? Hell, what is there to tell? He goes out at night. Sometimes he goes fishing. Sometimes…”

  “Where?” I interrupted.

  “Where what?”

  “Fishing.”

  “On one of his boats. He borrowed my stuff. He was fishing the day before he got bumped. Sometimes he’d slip me a ticket and I’d get away from the old lady.”

  “How do the boats operate?”

  He shrugged again, pursing his mouth. “They go down the bay to the tip of the inlet, gas up, pick up beer at Gulley’s and, go about ten miles out. Coming back they stop at Gulley’s for more beer and for the guys to dump the fish they don’t want. Gulley sells it in town. Everybody is usually drunk and happy.” He gave me another thoughtful look. “You writing a book about your friend?” he said sarcastically.

  “Could be. Could be. I hate to see him dead.”

  “If you ask me, he never should’ve fooled around Renzo. You better go home and save your money from now on, sonny.”

  “I’ll take your advice,” I said, “and be a handyman around a rooming house.”

  He gave me a dull stare as I stood up and didn’t bother to go to the door with me. He still had his hand in his pocket wrapped around the bill I gave him.

  The street was empty and dark enough to keep me wrapped in a blanket of shadows. I stayed close to the houses, stopping now and then to listen. When I was sure I was by myself I felt better and followed the water smell of the bay.

  At River Road a single pump gas station showed lights and the guy inside sat with his feet propped up on the desk. He opened one eye when I walked in, gave me the change I wanted for the phone, then went back to sleep again. I dialed the number of Gerot’s club, got the attendant and told him what I wanted. He gave me another number and I punched it out on the dial.

  Two persons answered before a voice said, “Gerot speaking.”

  “Hello, Captain. This is Joe. I was…”

  “I remember,” he said.

  “I called Sergeant Gonzales tonight. Phil Carboy paid me off to finger Vetter. Now I got two parties pushing me.”

  “Three. Don’t forget us.”

  “I’m not forgetting.”

  “I hear you’ve been moving around, Joe. Those parties are excited. Where are you?”

  I didn’t think he’d bother to trace the call, so I said, “Some joint in town.”

  His voice sounded light this time. “About Vetter. Tell me.”

  “Nothing to tell.”

  “You had a call this morning.” I felt the chills starting to run up my back. They had a tap on my line already. “The voice wasn’t familiar and it said some peculiar things.”

  “I know. I didn’t get it. I thought it was part of Renzo’s outfit getting wise. They beat up a buddy of mine so I’d know what a real beat-up guy looks like. It was all double talk to me.”

  He was thinking it over. When he was ready he said, “Maybe so, kid. You hear about that dame you were with?”

  I could hardly get the words out of my mouth. “Helen? No…What?”

  “Somebody shot at her. Twice.”

  “Did…”

  “Not this time. She was able to walk away from it this time.”

  “Who was it? Who shot at her?”

  “That, little chum, is something we’d like to know too. She was waiting for a train out of town. The next time maybe we’ll have better luck. There’ll be a next time, in case you’re interested.”

  “Yeah, I’m interested…and thanks. You know where she is now?”

  “No, but we’re looking around. I hope we can find her first.”

  I put the phone back and tried to get the dry taste out of my mouth. When I thought I could talk again I dialed Helen’s apartment, hung on while the phone rang endlessly, then held the receiver fork down until I got my coin back. I had to get Renzo’s club number from the book and the gravelly voice that answered rasped that the feature attraction hadn’t put in an appearance that night and for something’s sake to cut off the chatter and wait until tomorrow because the club was closed.

  So I stood there and said things to myself until I was all balled up into a knot. I could see the parade of faces I hated drifting past my mind and all I could think of was how bad I wanted to smash every one of them as they came by. Helen had tried to run for it. She didn’t get far. Now where could she be? Where does a beautiful blonde go who is trying to hide? Who would take her in if they knew the score?

  I could feel the sweat starting on my neck, soaking the back of my shirt. All of a sudden I felt washed out and wrung dry. Gone. All the way gone. Like there wasn’t anything left of me any more except a big hate for a whole damn city, the mugs who ran it and the people who were afraid of the mugs. And it wasn’t just one city either. There would be more of them scattered all over the states. For the people, by the people, Lincoln had said. Yeah. Great.

  I turned around and walked out. I didn’t even bother to look back and if they were there, let them come. I walked for a half hour, found a cab parked at a corner with the driver sacking it behind the wheel and woke him up. I gave him the boarding house address and climbed in the back.

  He let me off at the corner, collected his dough and turned around.

  Then I heard that voice again and I froze the butt halfway to my mouth and squashed the matches in the palm of my hand.

  It said, “Go ahead and light it.”

  I breathed that first drag out with the words, “You nuts? They’re all around this place.”

  “I know. Now be still and listen. The dame knows the score. They tried for her…”

  We heard the feet at the same time. They were light as a cat, fast. Then he came out of the darkness and all I could see was the glint of the knife in his hand and the yell that was in my throat choked off when his fingers bit into my flesh. I had time to see that same hardened face that had looked into mine not so long ago, catch an expressionless grin from the hard boy, then the other shadows opened and the side of a palm smashed down against his neck. I pitched forward with his head at a queer, stiff angle, his mouth wrenched open and knew it was only a reflex that kept it that way because the hard boy was dead. You could hear the knife chatter across the sidewalk and the sound of the body hitting, a sound that really wasn’t much yet was a thunderous crash that split the night wide open.

  The shadows the hand had reached out from seemed to open and close again, and for a short second I was alone. Just a short second. I heard the whisper that was said too loud. The snick of a gun somewhere, then I closed in against the building and ran for it.

  At the third house I faded into the alley and listened. Back there I could hear them talking, then a car started up down the street. I cut around behind the houses, found the fences and stuck with them until I was at my place, then snaked into the cellar door.

  When I got upstairs I slipped into the hall and reached for the phone. I asked for the police and got them. All I said was that somebody was being killed and gave the address. Then I grinned at the darkness, hung up without giving my name and went upstairs to my room. From way across town a siren wailed a lonely note, coming closer little by little. It was a pleasant sound at that. It would give my friend from the shadows plenty of warning too. He was quite a guy. Strong. Whoever owned the dead man was going to walk easy with Vetter after this.

  I walked into my room, closed the door and was reaching for the bolt when the chair moved in the corner. Then she said, “Hello, Joe,” and the air in my lungs hissed out slowly between my teeth.

  I said, “Helen.” I don’t know which one of us moved. I like to think it was her. But suddenly she was there in my arms with her face buried in my shoulder, stifled sobs pouring out of her body while I tried to tell her that it was all right. Her body was pressed against me, a fire that seemed to dance as she trembled, fighting to stay close to me.
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  “Helen, Helen, take it easy. Nothing will hurt you now. You’re okay.” I lifted her head away and smoothed back her hair. “Listen, you’re all right here.”

  Her mouth was too close. Her eyes were too wet and my mind was thinking things that didn’t belong there. My arms closed tighter and I found her mouth, warm and soft, a salty sweetness that clung desperately and talked to me soundlessly. But it stopped the trembling and when she pulled away she smiled and said my name softly.

  “How’d you get here, Helen?”

  Her smile tightened. “I was brought up in a place like this a long time ago. There are always ways. I found one.”

  “I heard what happened. Who was it?”

  She tightened under my hands. “I don’t know. I was waiting for a train when it happened. I just ran after that. When I got out on the street, it happened again.”

  “No cops?”

  She shook her head. “Too fast. I kept running.”

  “They know it was you?”

  “I was recognized in the station. Two men there had caught my show and said hello. You know how. They could have said something.”

  I could feel my eyes starting to squint. “Don’t be so damn calm about it.”

  The tight smile twisted up at the corner. It was like she was reading my mind. She seemed to soften a moment and I felt her fingers brush my face. “I told you I wasn’t like other girls, Joe. Not like the kind of girl you should know. Let’s say it’s all something I’ve seen before. After a bit you get used to it.”

  “Helen…”

  “I’m sorry, Joe.”

  I shook my head slowly. “No…I’m the one who’s sorry. People like you should never get like that. Not you.”

  “Thanks.” She looked at me, something strange in her eyes that I could see even in the half light of the room. And this time it happened slowly, the way it should be. The fire was close again, and real this time, very real. Fire that could have burned deeply if the siren hadn’t closed in and stopped outside.

  I pushed her away and went to the window. The beams of the flashlights traced paths up the sidewalk. The two cops were cursing the cranks in the neighborhood until one stopped, grunted something and picked up a sliver of steel that lay by the curb. But there was nothing else. Then they got back in the cruiser and drove off.