The two cops looked up, their stupid faces brightening. The Sergeant said, “Skip that. You know better.”
Duffy held the glass in his hand, astonished, but he said nothing. The ambulance came up then. They could hear the siren, and two white-coated attendants scooped Gilroy up and took him away.
The Sergeant came over to Schultz. “You got a rod?” he said.
Schultz pulled Duffy’s Colt from his holster and handed it over. The Sergeant examined it, his eyes narrowed, and his lips thin red. “We’ll look this over,” he said. “It might have a record.”
Duffy moved forward and took the gun out of the Sergeant’s hand. He said in a hard voice, “Tell English I took it from you,” he said. “I want this cannon for a while.”
Thick red veins knotted at the Sergeant’s neck. His watery blue eyes bulged. He didn’t say anything, but walked out, jerking his head at the other two.
When they had gone, Schultz said uneasily, “Those guys seem to hate us.”
Duffy stood frowning at the floor. Then he said, “I don’t like this. Maybe English’s loosing his grip.”
He went to his room and dialled. When English answered, Duffy said, “We’ve had a shooting here.” His voice was tense and sharp. “Morgan’s mob knocked off Gilroy and tried to iron me out. They got away.”
English said, “You got to be careful.”
Duffy grinned mirthlessly at the mouthpiece. “You telling me,” he said. “What I want you to know is the cops seemed kind of unfriendly. You’re giving me protection. I don’t like to have it come back on me. These birds were only keeping their hands off me with an effort.”
English said softly, “You’re wanted for a murder rap. You can’t expect too much.”
Duffy stared at the opposite wall. “How long’s your protection going to last, once Morgan’s out of the way?”
English said immediately, “You’ve got nothing to worry about. I’m getting the papers to run the whole case tomorrow, clearing you. You see, you’ll be in the clear tomorrow.”
Duffy said, “We’ve fixed Morgan. You’ll pay twenty-five grand into my bank, tomorrow?”
English said, “Sure, tomorrow. When they got Morgan I’ll do that.”
Duffy said, “’Bye,” and hung up. He walked across to the window and looked out, lifting the blue blind away from the window and peering round the side. The rain ran down the window. He could only see faintly the street light. He dropped the blind and went once more to the telephone. It began to ring. Its sudden violence startled him. He sat on edge of the bed and pulled the receiver towards him.
Alice’s voice said, “Oh, Bill.”
He said, “Why, for God’s sake! It’s nearly two o’clock. What makes you call at this time?”
She said, her voice uneven, “Sam just heard. They say there’s been shooting at the Bronx. I was so frightened. I thought something had happened to you.”
“Where’s Sam?”
“They called him up. He’s gone down to headquarters. You are all right?”
“Sure, I’m all right. There’s nothing to worry about.” He paused and then went on, “Listen, honey, you’re right. This is getting me nowhere. I’m quitting. I got nineteen grand salted away, and another little packet tomorrow, then I’m through. English is taking the heat off, and it’s going to turn out swell.”
She said, “I’m… I’m glad. It is all right, isn’t it, Bill?” He thought she was crying.
“You see,” he said, “tomorrow we’ll have a party. You and Sam and me. It’s going to be fine. And listen, I’m coming round in the afternoon, and you and me will go shopping. You can buy yourself the world. Doll yourself up and surprise Sam. How do you like that?”
She said, her voice still anxious, “I shan’t rest until you’re with us.”
“Good night,” he said. “You’re worrying about nothing.”
When he hung up, he sat on the edge of the bed thinking. A little shiver ran through him suddenly, and he got up impatiently. “Hell,” he said. “I guess my feet are damp.”
CHAPTER XVII
DUFFY WOKE WITH A start. Across the room, the sun leaked round the side of the blind, throwing ragged lines of light on the walls.
The telephone was ringing, grinding shrilly.
He said, “Goddam it,” and turned over in the bed. Pulling the blanket over his ears, he tried to ignore the jarring noise, but the bell went on ringing, insistently.
He turned over again and climbed stiffly out of the bed. Scooping up the telephone, he shouted, “What the hell is it?”
Sam was yelling at the other end. He was so excited that Duffy couldn’t understand a word. He said, “I can’t hear you. What is it?”
Sam choked, then came over quieter. “For God’s sake, Bill,” he said. “Hell’s broken loose this end. English’s double-crossing you. He’s slapped every rap he can lay hold of on you.”
Duffy stiffened. “Tell me,” he said.
“They arrested Morgan on some counterfeit charge. Then English got on to headquarters and withdrew his protection. I was there when he did it. He’s thrown you to the wolves. They’re indicting you for Olga’s, Gleason’s and Annabel’s murder.”
Duffy sat limply on the bed, still holding the telephone. “The lousy rat,” he said.
Sam said urgently, “You’ve got to go carefully. They can’t hope to make all those raps stick.”
Duffy’s mouth twisted. “They’ll carry me to the station, that it?”
Sam said, “English is pulling wires. They’re waiting for you to run, then they’ll come after you with gunpowder.”
“That’ll let English right out of this, won’t it? Me stiff, he can pin all his lousy scandal to my tombstone.”
“What the hell are you going to do?”
Duffy said, “Skip. I guess I might make it in the Buick.”
Sam said, “They’ll be watching your joint by now. The news came over ten minutes ago. They started right away.”
Duffy said, “Do they know you’re in this?”
“No. They don’t even know I know you.”
“If I can’t make it, can I hide up at your place?”
“Sure,” Sam spoke without hesitation. “Why not come on over and lay up, until the heat’s cooled?”
“’I’ll try a getaway first.” Duffy said gently, “Thanks, soldier, you’ve been a swell help. My love to Alice. Don’t tell her more than you need.” He hung up and looked quickly at the clock. It was just after ten o’clock.
He dressed with cold unhurried haste. He made sure that he had his money safely distributed in his pockets, then picking up his hat he walked to the door, shot the bolt and stepped quietly into the passage.
As he walked into the deserted bar, he heard the faint wail of a siren, approaching rapidly. He smiled, without being amused, turned back and ran to the front door. He stepped into the street and walked across the road fast, but without any panic. He walked like a man about to start a day’s work, who knows he’s a little behind the clock.
He could see a long closed car swinging round the bend at the far end of the road. The siren was silent. He stepped hastily into the shadow of the garage and walked over to the Buick.
Schultz said, “Wait!” His voice had an edge to it.
Duffy peered and saw him standing in the dim light, half hidden by a big Packard.
“The cops are moving in,” Duffy said in a low voice. “I’m skipping. Want to come?”
Schultz shook his head. He was standing very still. Duffy looked again, then stiffened. Schultz was holding a shotgun in his hands; he was pointing it directly at Duffy.
Duffy said with stiff lips, “What’s the idea?”