Читать книгу Rackets, Inc.: A Johnny Merak Classic Crime Novel - John Glasby - Страница 6

CHAPTER THREE

THE BLIND ALLEY

I turned the ignition key, pushed the starter. The car was warm-hearted and started up immediately with a sudden whir of power. She slid forward easily, and the last glimpse of Dawn I had was a slight figure out the window waving her hand a little uncertainly. Then I turned the car into the street and headed downtown.

Ahead of me there was nothing but trouble, and behind me nothing but a lifetime of bitterness and regrets. A hell of a way to start the day.

The flashy bars in the east end of town would be open even at this early hour, and many of them well patronised. Perhaps there I might be able to pick up some shred of information, which would give me the lead I needed so desperately.

Frenchie’s was open and busy as I drew up alongside the kerb. I threw a swift glance up and down the street before climbing out of the car. A few characters were lounging at the corner of an intersection twenty yards away, but they were the usual touts looking for handouts.

The barman looked at me as I went inside, didn’t recognise me as one of the regulars, and nodded in a friendly way. Most likely he had me tagged already—a guy who always got into trouble.

“Straight bourbon,” I said, eyeing the joint. The place was almost empty, but there were one or two characters who’d obviously been there throughout the night.

The barman poured the drink, then settled his elbows on the bar and eyed me curiously.

“Been doing the town?” he inquired.

“Some,” I agreed. “Why, anything happened?”

He polished a glass in an absent manner, then the leaned over the bar so that his face almost touched mine. “They say that Maxie Temple tried to make a comeback last night, only they got him at the airport. Only just stepped off the plane, so they say.”

“Maxie Temple, eh?” I feigned surprise. “Have they got the guy who did it?”

“No. The cops couldn’t pick anybody up even if they saw him do it with their own eyes.” The barman sounded sarcastic.

“You got all this information from the police?”

He looked scared for a minute, licking his lips as he eyed me up and down.

“Just who are you?” he asked thinly.

“Don’t worry about that,” I said quickly. “I’m not from the police, if that’s what you’re worried about. It’s just that I knew Maxie in the old days. We weren’t exactly friends, but now that he’s dead, I thought there might be something I could do to find his killer.”

“Don’t bother about that. Clancy Snow was around here last night. Seems he’s interested in that, too.”

I kept quiet and finish my drink. Clancy Snow! It hadn’t taken him long to get his teeth into the case. He wouldn’t mention my name, of course. Everything would have to be done efficiently, and discreetly.

Do something, Johnny. Don’t just sit there drinking bourbon and wait for them to close in on you. Maybe, even now, they’re outside, cruising around in their lush limousines, eyes alert, scanning the early morning crowds, hoping to pick you out.

I got up, tossed a coin onto the polished top of the bar and hurried out. I would learn nothing there.

Twenty minutes later I was cruising through the slum quarter of Los Angeles, watching the bars and the people on the sidewalks. Somewhere, behind one of the hundreds of faces, in a quick and furtive brain, there would be the information I wanted. But how to find it?

It wasn’t until an hour later that I spotted a face among the others that I recognised immediately. Square-jawed, with a thin, clipped moustache. The soft, brimmed hat was there, too, pulled low over the eyes, and it was that which first attracted my attention to him. I slowed the car to a crawl, following him at a respectable distance.

He gave no sign that he knew he was being followed, and a moment later disappeared down a small back alley. I stopped the car, got out, and went after him.

A door closed softly halfway down the alley. There was urgent tension building up inside me again, and I was suddenly glad of the .38 in my pocket. I slipped it out, checked it, then pushed open the door.

There was a hallway beyond and a half-open door at the end of it. Cautiously, I pushed it open, kicked it hard so that it slammed back against the wall, then went inside.

The hoodlum was coming for me fast and I tried to bring the gun up to cover him, even though I knew at the back of my mind that there wasn’t time for that.

I was half-turned by the time he got to me, standing as a solid target for the straight right that he threw at my jaw. The blow knocked me against the table. He was lunging forward again, but I slid sideways to the right, going down onto the rough carpet as my feet caught up against a chair.

The gun was knocked spinning from my hand and clattered into a corner of the room, where it slid out of sight. So this was it. A fight to the finish with all the advantage of surprise on his side this time.

I swung the chair up as he turned, got it between us and lifted it towards his face. It blocked his headlong rush, but he pulled it savagely away from me before I could use it as a club to batter over his head.

His body twisted as he threw the chair across the room and I kicked out at him, sending him sprawling. He drew his lips back over his teeth in a grin of savage fury. His breath was whistling between his teeth as he tried to pull himself upright.

I lashed out at him again, but he rolled out of range, got to his feet with an agility that belied his bulk, and then he got to me with both fists pummelling my chest with rib-crushing blows that knocked all the wind from my body.

I doubled up, tried to get my breath back, and caught a savage blow on the chin that sent me reeling backwards, hitting the floor with my shoulders and spine. From the corner of my eye I caught a glimpse of the hoodlum’s distorted features leaning over me as he drew back his foot to kick me in the small of the back.

I could see his face quite clearly, his teeth showing white in a tight grin of savage pleasure, his chest heaving beneath his torn coat. He looked down at me, then laughed harshly.

“I warned you last night I’d remember that beating, Merak,” he gasped. “Now the boot’s on the other foot and this is where you get what’s coming to you.”

He turned his attention away from me for a moment as he looked across to where the .38 had fallen, and it was that momentary mistake on his part that gave me the chance I needed.

Before he could move, I lashed out with my right foot, kicking him with all my strength on the ankle. With a yelled, he jumped backward and tripped over my other foot hooked behind his knee.

It wasn’t easy to get up after the pummelling I had received earlier, but I managed it with a supreme effort. My head was spinning like a top and every breath seemed to rip my chest into a thousand pieces.

I knew inwardly that I had to move. Maybe the hoodlum would have killed me if I hadn’t got the gun first. I don’t know. He was almost on his feet when my fingers closed around it and I swung round, pointing it at his stomach.

“Just stay where you are, punk,” I muttered, holding onto the table for support. “Otherwise I’ll let you have it.”

He stopped, glaring at me, his face twisting, his mouth working.

I knew the kind of man this hoodlum was. If he thought there was a chance in a million of taking back the gun from me, he’d have jumped at it. I could see by the glint in his eyes that if I let him go this time, no place on earth would be sufficiently distant for me to hide from him.

I wasn’t really afraid, but it was a hell of a peculiar feeling.

“Sit down,” I ordered. “There are a few questions I want to ask you.”

He hesitated, then thought better of it, and sat down in one of the chairs. I moved around to where I could see him more clearly.

“It’s obvious you knew I was following you, so it’s pretty clear to me that you haven’t let up on me.”

“We never let up. You ought to know Clancy Snow better than that.”

“Ah, so it’s Clancy you’re working for. I wondered about that, you know.”

He looked sullen, stared down at the floor beneath his feet. I waited.

“So I’m working for Clancy Snow. What about it?”

“Nothing. Only perhaps you know more about what happened to Maxie Temple than I do. And I want to know something more. So if you want to get out of here in one piece, you’d better talk, otherwise I’ll have the great pleasure of shooting you. It won’t kill you outright, but you will linger long enough to suffer. Before the end, you’ll be pleading with me to kill you.”

The muscles on his face were working overtime now. I could see that he was getting scared and knew that it was no idle threat. His eyes kept flicking from my face to the gun in my hand and then back again.

“You can’t scare me that easy,” he said finally, licking his lips.

“No? Your yellowness is showing through your face.” I steadied the gun and applied a little pressure on the trigger.

He leaned forward with a jerk and there were little beads of sweat popping out on his forehead. His hands gripping the size of the chair were white-knuckled with the nervous pressure he was exerting.

“Tell me what happened at the airport last night,” I said gently. “All the details. Take your time. I can wait.”

“You’re a son of a bitch!” he spat sharply.

I brought the gun up just a shade. “Going to talk?” I asked.

He tried to nod his head and bleated a noise. My right elbow was ready to smash into his throat if he needed persuading.

“Clancy Snow arranged it, but you’ll never prove that. He’s too smart for a crook like you to pin a murder rap on him.”

“Who killed Maxie? Did you?”

He shook his head. “I wouldn’t be that stupid. My job was to look after you, not Maxie.”

“Then who did?”

“I don’t know.”

I hit him across the side of the face, jerking his head back viciously.

He glared with a naked fury at me, and for a moment I thought he intended to ignore the gun and make a lunge for me. Instead, he cooled off and sank back into the chair.

His voice took on a whining edge: “It’s true, I tell you, I’ve no idea who did the killing. Do you think Clancy Snow would tell me that?”

Well, that was that. Once again I’d drawn a rotten break. I ought to have realised it, of course. Clancy Snow was a smart operator. He had plenty of men to carry out his orders. He didn’t need to let any one of them know what the others were doing. And if they were smart, they didn’t spill it either.

“Do you know anybody else at the airport, or did you see anybody who might have killed Maxie Temple?”

“Blast you, Merak! I’ve just told you, I don’t know who rubbed him out.”

“And I think you do.”

He ran his tongue around his lips and made a little helpless gesture with his right hand.

“Clancy would kill me if he knew.”

“And I’ll kill you if you don’t tell me,” I warned him. “Remember that I’ve got the gun, not Clancy Snow.”

“I realise that.” He looked uncomfortable. “It could have been Alfred Madden. He was in the vicinity last night.”

“Madden? I remember him. Dutch McKnight’s muscleman. “So Dutch is in on it, too. I thought so.”

“You’ll never pin it on either of them, Merak.”

“Never mind about that. Where can I get hold of Madden?”

He shook his head. “Nobody knows where Madden goes after he’s finished the day job. Only Clancy Snow and Dutch. And you don’t expect them to tell you, do you?” He laughed harshly.

“No, but if I remember correctly, Madden had a girlfriend, didn’t he? I think I’ll look her up. Maybe she’ll be a little more cooperative than you.” I backed towards the door, never taking my eyes off him for a moment. He was a rat and there was no telling when he would turn. He made his pitch just when I thought he would, dropping to his knees as I opened the door and then lunging forward, clawing for my legs.

He was still reaching forward, eyes wide and arms outstretched, when I pulled the trigger and felt the gun jerk against my wrist.

He collapsed forward onto his face as the bullet took him in the chest, fingers clawing at the carpet.