Pushing the door slowly to, she kept his eyes watching her. Then when the door was nearly shut she leaned forward. “Did you say your name was Duffy?”
“Yeah!”
Anything else?”
“Bill Duffy, if you like.”
“It's a nice name.” She leant against the doorway, the door pulled against her fat hip.
Duffy stood there, putting his personality over on a short wave. “It's an old family name,” he said modestly and grinned.
She raised her eyebrows. “So?”
Duffy moved a little her way until he leant against the wall, touching her shoulder. “We Duffys go for red-heads,” he said.
She raised her chin. Her lips invited his. “Yes?” she said.
He touched her lips with his. A long green arm slid round his neck and pulled his head down. She did not close her eyes and when he looked into them he tried to jerk his head away, but she held him hard. Stormy, hungry wild eyes she had. He stood there, his mouth crushed on hers, startled by her fierceness. She suddenly drove her teeth into his top lip. The pain stung him, and he pushed her away violently, starting back with an angry oath. She stood looking at him, her red-gold hair wild, and her eyes big and dark, stormy with passion. She took a step back and slammed the door in his face.
Duffy stood there, dabbing his lip with his handkerchief.
“That dame's gonna let herself go one day,” he said to himself, “and when she does, she's going to make a meal of someone.”
He walked slowly to the elevator and pressed the button. His lip was beginning to swell already. He stood before the grille, waiting for the elevator to come up. “My God,” he thought, “what a hell of a night!”
As the elevator came up slowly he saw, lying on the roof, the mangled body of a man. He watched the roof glide past him, carrying its grisly burden, then the empty cage came to rest at his floor.
He stood very still, feeling the sweat start out all over him. He said, “Well, well,” for something better to say, then he walked bark to the flat and hammered on the door.
CHAPTER III
SHE DIDN'T COME to the door at first. It was only by keeping his thumb on the buzzer, while the minutes ticked by, that Duffy got her to come at all. When she did come, she had the door on the chain. Duffy thought it was a hell of a time to start playing around with door-chains, but he let it drift with the current.
She started to close the door when she saw who it was, but Duffy got the toe of his shoe in first.
“Listen, bright girl,” he said, “open up, and be your age. You've got a corpse on your hands right outside.”
“I honestly believe you're as mad as a coon,” she said breathlessly, “or very, very drunk.”
Duffy leant his weight against the door, his face pressed against the small opening. “Cattley's on the roof of the elevator. First glance, I'd say it was in the basement when he hit it.”
He saw her eyes widen, and then she giggled. He'd have forgiven her if she had screamed, or even passed out, but the giggle made him mad. He took a step back.
“That suits me, if that's the way you want it.”
She pushed the door to, slipped the chain, then opened the door and stepped into the corridor.
“Wait,” she said, putting her hand on his sleeve. Her hand looked white against his dark suit.
“Someone'll want this elevator in a moment, and then things are going to happen.”
“Is he really I mean, you're not just saying this to scare me?”
He got in the elevator, slid the grille and pressed the down button. He let the elevator sink half-way, then broke the current by opening the grille. He climbed out with a struggle, leaving the cage between floors.
“Does that look like a bedtime story?”
She peered at Cattley, not moving her body, but just craning her neck. One of her hands went to her mouth. “Is he dead?”
“Do you think he's catching some sleep? Look at him, baby, look at his arms and legs. Could you sleep like that?”
She turned on him angrily. “Well, do something about it,” she said.
He pushed his hat to the back of his head. “I'm beginning to wonder if you're as dumb as you seem to be. You couldn't be dumber than a hophead, the way that brain of yours works. Do something about it? Well, what you want me to do? Send for the cops? Call an ambulance? What?”
She raised both hands and pushed her hair off her ears. She did it unconsciously. “But you must know what to do,” she said.
Duffy stood looking at Cattley with a faint grimace, then he went over and took hold of him. He gripped his arm and shoulder. It gave him quite a turn when the arm bent back at the elbow. There were a very few bones in one piece with this guy. He pulled and slid Cattley off the roof and let him as gently as he could on to the floor. Cattley's legs folded up, but not at the knees, they folded up in the middle of his shins. Duffy felt himself sweating. Putting his hands under Cattley's shoulders, he dragged him into the flat and laid him out in the hall.
“What are you bringing him in here for—?” Her voice was pitched half a note higher.
“Don't talk now,” he said, looking with disgust at the blood on his hands. “This guy's going to make a mess in your joint, but it's better than making a mess of you.”
He walked back to the lift and inspected the roof. The woodwork was smeared with blood.
“Get me a wet towel,” he said.
She went into the apartment, carefully walking round Cattley. He stood by the lift watching her. She'd got a good nerve, he told himself. She came back again with a wet hand-towel. He took it from her and carefully mopped off the bloodstains. Then he wiped his hands on the towel and folded it neatly. He walked into her apartment and put the towel on Cattley's chest. She followed him in, again skirting Cattley, drawing her green wrap close to her.
“Will you see if he's got the money on him still?” she said.
Duffy looked at her hard.
“What makes you think the money ain't there?”
“It's the way I said it. I meant will you get the money from him.”
Duffy grimaced. “I hate handling this bird. He's brittle.”
She came and stood close to him, looking down at Cattley. “Isn't he going to get stiff soon?” she said. “Hadn't you better straighten him out a little before he gets that way?”
Duffy said, “For God's sake,” but he knelt down and cautiously pulled on Cattley's legs. One of his shin-bones poked up through his trousers leg. Duffy got up and looked round the hall. He went over to the coat-rack and selected a walking-stick. Then he came back to Cattley and put the ferrel of the stick on the shin-bone and pressed. The leg straightened, and he did the same with the other one.