Pretty," he said from the door. "Real pretty."
I still had the .45, in my belt but I never could have made it. Velda's convulsive grip around my neck slowed the action enough so that I saw the Police Positive in his hand and didn't get killed after all. The hammer was back for faster shooting and the look on his face was one I had seen before on other cheap killers and knew that he'd drop me the second he thought I might be trouble.
"Go on, don't stop," he said. "I like good shows."
I made my grin as simpering as I could, rolling away from Velda until I sat perched on the edge of the couch. I was going wild inside and fought to keep my hands dangling at my sides while I tried to look like an idiot caught in the act until I could think my way past this thing.
"I didn't know there'd be two but it figures a babe like you'd have something going for her." He nudged the gun toward me. "But why grab off a mutt like this, baby?"
When she spoke from behind me her voice was completely changed. "When I could have had you?"
"That's the way, baby. I've been watching you through that window four days and right now I'm ready. How about that?"
I would have gone for the rod right then, but I felt the pressure of her knee against my back.
"How about that?" Velda repeated.
The guy let out a jerky laugh and looked at me through slitted eyes. "So maybe we'll make music after all, kid. Just as soon as I dump the mutt here."
Then I couldn't keep quiet any longer. "You're going to have to do it the hard way."
The gun shifted just enough so it pointed straight at my head. "That's the way I always do things, mutt."
He was ready. The gun was tight in his hand and the look was there and he was ready. Velda said, "Once that gun goes off you won't have me."
It wasn't enough. The guy laughed again and nodded. "That's okay too, baby. This is what I came for anyway."
"Why?" she asked him.
"Games, baby?" The gun swung gently toward her, then back to me, ready to take either or both of us when he wanted to. I tried to let fear bust through the hate inside me and hoped it showed like that when I slumped a little on the couch. My hand was an inch nearer the .45 now, but still too far away.
"I want the kid, baby, ya know?" he said. "So no games. Trot her out, I take off, and you stay alive."
"Maybe," I said.
His eyes roved over me. "Yeah, maybe," he grinned. "You know something, mutt? You ain't scared enough. You're thinking."
"Why not?"
"Sure, why not? But whatever you think it just ain't there for you, mutt. This ain't your day."
There were only seconds now. He was past being ready and his eyes said it was as good as done and I was dead and he started that final squeeze as Velda and I moved together.
We never would have made it if the door hadn't slammed open into him and knocked his arm up. The shot went into the ceiling and with a startled yell he spun around toward the two guys in the doorway, dropping as he fired, but the smaller guy got him first with two quick shots in the chest and he started to tumble backwards with the blood bubbling in his throat.
I was tangled in the raincoat trying to get at my gun when the bigger one saw me, streaked off a shot that went by my head, and in the light of the blast I knew they weren't cops because I recognized a face of a hood I knew a long time. It was the last shot he ever made. I caught him head on with a .45 that pitched him back through, the door. The other one tried to nail me while I was rolling away from Velda and forgot about the guy dying on the floor. The mug let one go from the Police Positive that ripped into the hood's belly and with a choking yell he tumbled out the door, tripped, and hobbled off out of sight, calling to someone that he'd been hit.
I kicked the gun out of the hand of the guy on the floor, stepped over him, and went out in the hall gun first. It was too late. The car was pulling away from the curb and all that was left was the peculiar silence of the street.
He was on his way out when I got back to him, the sag of death in his face. There were things I wanted to ask him, but I never got the chance. Through bloody froth he said, "You'll... get yours, mutt."
I didn't want him to die happy. I said, "No chance, punk. This is my day after all."
His mouth opened in a grimace of hate and frustration that was the last living thing he ever did.
From where to where, I thought. Why are there always dead men around me? I came back, all right. Just like in the old days. Love and death going hand in hand.
There was something familiar about his face. I turned his head with my toe, looked at him closely and caught it. Velda said, "Do you know him?"
"Yeah. His name is Basil Levitt. He used to be a private dick until he tried a shakedown on somebody who wouldn't take it, then he did time for second-degree murder."
"What about the other one?"
"They call him Kid Hand. He was a freelance gun that did muscle for small bookies on bettors who didn't want to pay off. He's had a fall before too."
I looked at Velda and saw the way she was breathing and the set expression on her face. There was a strange sort of wildness there you find on animals suddenly having to fight for their lives. I said, "They aren't from the other side, kitten. These are new ones. These want something different." I waited a moment, then: "Who's the kid, honey?"
"Mike..."
I pointed to the one on the floor. "He came for a kid. He came here ready to shoot you up. Now who's the kid?"
Again, she gave me an anguished glance. "A girl... she's only a young girl."
I snapped my fingers impatiently. "Come on, give me, damn it. You know where you stand! How many people have died because of what you know and right now you haven't got rid of it. You want to get killed after everything that happened for some stupid reason?"
"All right, Mike." Anguish gave way to concern then and she glanced upward. "Right now she's in an empty room on the top floor. Directly over this one."
"Okay, who is she?"
"I... don't know. She came here the day after I was brought here. I heard her crying outside and took her in."
"That wasn't very smart."
"Mike... there were times when I wish someone had done that to me."
"Sorry."
"She was young, desperate, in trouble. I took care of her. It was like taking in a scared rabbit. Whatever her trouble was, it was big enough... I thought I'd give her time to quiet down, then perhaps be able to help her."
"What happened?"
"She's scared, Mike. Terrified. She's all mixed up and I'm the only one she can hang on to."
"Good, I'll take your word for it. Now get me up to her before this place is crawling with cops. We have about five-minutes before somebody is going to be curious enough to make a phone call."
From the third floor you could hear the rhythmic tap of her feet dancing a staccato number that made you think of an Eleanor Powell routine when prettylegs was queen of the boards. There was no music, yet you knew she heard some and was in a never-never land of her own.
Velda knocked but the dancing didn't stop. She turned the knob and pushed the door open and with a soft cry the girl in the middle of the room twisted around, her hand going to her mouth when she saw me, huge eyes darting from Velda's to mine. She threw one glance toward the window when Velda said, "It's all right, Sue. This is our friend."
It was going to take more than that to convince her and there wasn't enough time. "My name is Mike Hammer, Sue. I'm going to help you. Can you understand that?"
Whatever it was, it worked. The fear left her face and she tried on a tentative smile and nodded. "Will you... really?"