«Tough about Carl,» I said. «I was with M’Gee this morning.»
He looked at me emptily. After a little while he said:
«Yeah. Carl was a good kid. I ain’t told you about him much.»
I waited, looking at the envelope under his hand. He looked down at it himself.
«I gotta let you see it,» he mumbled. He pushed it slowly across the desk and lifted his hand off it as if with the movement he was giving up most everything that made life worth living. Two tears welled up in his eyes and slid down his unshaven cheeks.
I lifted the square envelope and looked at it. It was addressed to him at his house, in neat pen-and-ink printing, and bore a Special Delivery stamp. I opened it and looked at the shiny photograph that was inside.
Carmen Dravec sat in Steiner’s teakwood chair, wearing her jade earrings. Her eyes looked crazier, if anything, than as I had seen them. I looked at the back of the photo, saw that it was blank, and put the thing face down on my desk.
«Tell me about it,» I said carefully.
Dravec wiped the tears off his face with his sleeve, put his hands flat on the desk and stared down at the dirty nails. His fingers trembled on the desk.
«A guy called me,» he said in a dead voice. «Ten grand for the plate and the prints. The deal’s got to be closed tonight, or they give the stuff to some scandal sheet.»
«That’s a lot of hooey,» I said. «A scandal sheet couldn’t use it, except to back up a story. What’s the story?»
He lifted his eyes slowly, as if they were very heavy. «That ain’t all. The guy say there’s a jam to it. I better come through fast, or I’d find my girl in the cooler.»
«What’s the story?» I asked again, filling my pipe. «What does Carmen say?»
He shook his big shaggy head. «I ain’t asked her. I ain’t got the heart. Poor little girl. No clothes on her…. No, I ain’t got the heart…. You ain’t done nothin’ on Steiner yet, I guess.»
«I didn’t have to,» I told him. «Somebody beat me to it.» He stared at me open-mouthed, uncomprehending. It was obvious he knew nothing about the night before.
«Did Carmen go out at all last night?» I asked carelessly.
He was still staring with his mouth open, groping in his mind.
«No. She’s sick. She’s sick in bed when I get home. She don’t go out at all…. What you mean — about Steiner?»
I reached for the bottle of rye and poured us each a drink. Then I lit my pipe.
«Steiner’s dead,» I said. «Somebody got tired of his tricks and shot him full of holes. Last night, in the rain.»
«Jeeze,» he said wonderingly. «You was there?»
I shook my head. «Not me. Carmen was there. That’s the jam your man spoke of. She didn’t do the shooting, of course.»
Dravec’s face got red and angry. He balled his fists. His breath made a harsh sound and a pulse beat visibly in the side of his neck.
«That ain’t true! She’s sick. She don’t go out at all. She’s sick in bed when I get home!»
«You told me that,» I said. «That’s not true. I brought Carmen home myself. The maid knows, only she’s trying to be decent about it. Carmen was at Steiner’s house and I was watching outside. A gun went off and someone ran away. I didn’t see him. Carmen was too drunk to see him. That’s why she’s sick.»
His eyes tried to focus on my face, but they were vague and empty, as if the light behind them had died. He took hold of the arms of the chair. His big knuckles strained and got white.
«She don’t tell me,» he whispered. «She don’t tell me. Me, that would do anything for her.» There was no emotion in his voice; just the dead exhaustion of despair.
He pushed his chair back a little. «I go get the dough,» he said. «The ten grand. Maybe the guy don’t talk.»
Then he broke. His big rough head came down on the desk and sobs shook his whole body. I stood up and went around the desk and patted his shoulder, kept on patting it, not saying anything. After a while he lifted his face smeared with tears and grabbed for my hand.
«Jeeze, you’re a good guy,» he sobbed.
«You don’t know the half of it.»
I pulled my hand away from him and got a drink into his paw, helped him lift it and down it. Then I took the empty glass out of his hand and put it back on the desk. I sat down again.
«You’ve got to brace up,» I told him grimly. «The law doesn’t know about Steiner yet. I brought Carmen home and kept my mouth shut. I wanted to give you and Carmen a break. That puts me in a jam. You’ve got to do your part.»
He nodded slowly, heavily. «Yeah, I do what you say — anything you say.»
«Get the money,» I said. «Have it ready for the call. I’ve got ideas and you may not have to use it. But it’s no time to get foxy…. Get the money and sit tight and keep your mouth shut. Leave the rest to me. Can you do that?»
«Yeah,» he said. «Jeeze, you’re a good guy.»
«Don’t talk to Carmen,» I said. «The less she remembers out of her drunk, the better. This picture —» I touched the back of the photo on the desk «— shows somebody was working with Steiner. We’ve got to get him and get him quick — even if it costs ten grand to do it.»
He stood up slowly. «That’s nothin’. That’s just dough. I go get it now. Then I go home. You do it like you want to. Me, I do just like you say.»
He grabbed for my hand again, shook it, and went slowly out of the office. I heard his heavy steps drag down the hall.
I drank a couple of drinks fast and mopped my face.
EIGHT
I drove my Chrysler slowly up La Verne Terrace towards Steiner’s house.
In the daylight, I could see the steep drop of the hill and the flight of wooden steps down which the killer had made his escape. The street below was almost as narrow as an alley. Two small houses fronted on it, not very near Steiner’s place. With the noise the rain had been making it was doubtful if anyone in them had paid much attention to the shots.
Steiner’s looked peaceful under the afternoon sun. The unpainted shingles of the roof were still damp from the rain. The trees on the other side of the street had new leaves on them. There were no cars on the street.
Something moved behind the square growth of box hedge that screened Steiner’s front door.
Carmen Dravec, in a green and white checkered coat and no hat, came out through the opening, stopped suddenly, looked at me wild-eyed, as if she hadn’t heard the car. She went back quickly behind the hedge. I drove on and parked in front of the empty house.
I got out and walked back. In the sunlight it felt like an exposed and dangerous thing to do.
I went in through the hedge and the girl stood there very straight and silent against the half-open house door. One hand went slowly to her mouth, and her teeth bit at a funny-looking thumb that was like an extra finger. There were deep purpleblack smudges under her frightened eyes.
I pushed her back into the house without saying anything, shut the door. We stood looking at each other inside. She dropped her hand slowly and tried to smile. Then all expression went out of her white face and it looked as intelligent as the bottom of a shoe box.
I got gentleness into my voice and said: «Take it easy. I’m pals. Sit down in that chair by the desk. I’m a friend of your father’s. Don’t get panicky.»
She went and sat down in the yellow cushion in the black chair at Steiner’s desk.