“We’ll get that hell-born cur yet!” he swore as they drove back from the scene of destruction. Marie will have to go through with her share. We’ll carry out the original plot. Joe was cursing softly at their failure. Tony clapped him on the back and laughed.
“What the hell! Counting Al we got three of them, didn’t we?”
“To hell with them! We gotta get Robinson!” Joe snarled back at him. The others were grim and silent. At the Mansion House they piled out of their car. All save Red. He was driving the machine home to the luxurious house he had fitted up for his moll out at Beau Lake.
“You guys be here tomorrow at two p.m. sure. Then we’ll fix him. Watch out you ain’t ambushed on your way home. And go well heeled. Keep away from the booze, too.”
The men nodded, and he whisked off.
The next day they were in deep consultation with Marie. She appeared willing, even eager to go through with her original plot.
“Remember, I’ll drive down toward Danbury sometime between midnight and two a.m. I’ll be drivin’, and I’ll wear my red hat and scarf. You can’t miss me. Then, right near Foster’s barn you can pull the job.” She was breathing hard, and there was a tense, eager light in her eyes that stirred Red. Poor kid, she seemed to be taking Dirk’s death bad. They’d settle with Pete for that.
Marie stepped out to a corner drugstore to phone Robinson. For as she told them she didn’t want her call to be traced.
“Hello, Pete. This is Marie.” She spoke softly, eagerly, into the mouthpiece.
“Well, what do you want?”
“Didn’t you follow my instructions? I meant well. Honestly, I did.” She seemed very humble, begging his pardon for the catastrophe of the night before.
“I fell into their trap last night. I was a fool not to listen to you and I damn near got bumped off for it. Three of my boys got theirs.” He was silent for a moment, then suspiciously, “Why the hell did you give me the tip-off?”
“Can’t you guess, Pete? Now that Dirk’s dead you’re the only one that matters to me.” There still remained that soft tone to her voice, but a curious grim smile was on her lips. “Can’t I come to see you? I’m leaving this gang.”
Pete softened under her melting warmth. “What’s the idea?”
“I’m yours, Pete, if you’ll have me.” Marie choked a bit on the last. Pete’s heart leaped within him. Marie in love with him! She was always his woman, even if he had married that jane, Bess. Perhaps that was why he had bumped off Dirk. Jealous.
“Do you mean that, Marie, dear? But hell. I’m married!”
“I know Pete. But I’ve got to go away. Come with me, just for a while. Then I can take an apartment in Danbury and you can visit me.”
Pete thought for a moment. “The thoughts of her tantalizing warm, slim body, her rich lips, and thrilling caresses, stirred him!”
“C’mon over baby. We’ll blow outa here tonight. But watch out you’re not being tailed.”
Again that curious lopsided smile spread over the warm beautiful mouth of Dirk’s moll, and again her murky eyes glistened for the moment as she thought of her tryst of the night. She went back to report to Red, and then she went home to rest.
She felt curiously light-hearted, but terribly weak. Before her shut eyes flashed Dirk’s picture. Strong-faced, heavily muscled paws, dark hair and dark eyes. A nose that was a bit too broad, but a man of action and a man of love.
And then Dirk as he lay in death. A curious pallor over his features. Gone was his striped suit and ornate silk shirt. In their stead were quiet, rich garments, worthy of a gang chief’s shroud.
Then came Red’s face. Boyish at times. Quick tempered, with the fiery impulses of his Celtic race. Red hair. No, copper-colored hair, and eyes the color of hard turquoise stones. She would have liked to run her hands through his heavy copper-colored hair. But, then Red had his moll. And there had always been Dirk.
And before Dirk... Pete Robinson. Tall, handsome, suave Pete. Immaculately neat and quiet. But he was cruel, his mouth was heartless, and thus she had left him for the rising young Italian gangster, Dirk Petroni. And now, that evening, she was to meet Pete once more. Would she still feel her heart bound at the sight of him? Would he still stir as he used to? She missed his cold, cruel love-making. Why had she saved him on the preceding night? Would she wreck Red’s plans and flee with him tonight. Or...
At eleven-thirty p.m. that night she stepped from her roadster and strolled haughtily into the speakeasy that provided the Buck County gang with their headquarters. There was disguised amazement on the faces of the persons there who recognized her as she asked for Pete. But they had their instructions and she was shown into a back-room, where Pete, all alone was awaiting her. At her entrance he arose and held out his arms for her.
She went to him, and slowly he pushed her head back and planted a passionate caress on her full ripe lips. For a suffocating moment she was under his spell, but then arose a picture of Dirk.
Slowly she pushed him away and released herself from his embrace. Scarcely restraining a shudder, she smiled at him, and said:
“Later, Pete. Not now. Hadn’t we better go before someone phones your wife?”
“You’re right, kid. Still usin’ the old bean. Just a couple of shots and we’re off.” He filled two glasses from a bottle that stood on the table, and handed one to her.
“To the end,” she held out her glass and looked warmly at him.
“To the end,” he repeated and they touched glasses, then tossed their drinks off.
They had another, and then another. Marie glanced at her watch. It was getting late and the gang would be waiting. She took her victim by his coat lapel and snuggled her head into his shoulder.
“We must go now, dear.” They departed. Marie was wearing her heavy fur coat, and on her head was the crimson hat she had spoken of. It was matched by her scarf. She led the way to her car. Now they were driving down towards the Danbury road.
“Where are we going, baby?” He was slightly under the influence of liquor, and it made him at once, more romantic and a trifle suspicious.
“Let’s spend the night in Danbury.”
He agreed. It was another perfect night. Drink was burning her brain. Supposing they turned the car about and went off together? She glanced behind her. Would they be happy? Could she forget Dirk to live with his murderer? Then she noticed that she was being tailed. A car filled with Red’s men was quietly following her. To protect her! She sneered. Pete noticed her looking back. He looked and saw the car, and suddenly he grabbed the wheel from her hands.
“What the hell’s this? We’re being followed. You damned hell cat. If you’ve tricked me...” He left the rest to a menacing silence.
“Here, stop this car. If you’ve pulled a phoney it’s going to cost you your life.” He stripped off his coat and hat and thrust them at the girl. “You wear these. Now gimme yours, and I’ll drive. If we’re ambushed it’s you that’ll get caught. Not me.”
Dumbly, the girl obeyed. She would have her revenge. The man drove on in silence. Foster’s Barn, Marie knew, was but a few miles distant. At the speed they were making they would soon be there. She would be revenged for Dirk’s death.
“Pete,” she spoke pleadingly, “you don’t think I’d frame you, do you? You’re the only one who gives a damn about me. Pete!”
Pete made no answer, but drove along grimly silent. If they got out of the hole they were in then he could love this moll. Right then... It would never do to increase the speed of their car. The car behind was swifter than theirs. That would bring matters to a head. Best to keep the pace. Hope to make Danbury, or slip off onto some quiet road if they had the chance.