He Won't Need It Now Read online

  Duffy nodded at Morgan.

  Joe said, “Why, for the love of Mike, here’s the pip back again.”

  Morgan half raised his hand, stopping Joe. He said, “Have you brought the photos after all, Mr. Duffy?”

  Duffy said, “Clear your thugs out, I want to talk to you.”

  “Shall I pat him around?” Joe asked. “He likes it, and can he take it?”

  Morgan said, “Wait outside.”

  Joe shrugged, but he went out, passing close to Duffy. As he passed, he pushed his flat face into Duffy’s and grinned. “Nice boy, ain’t you?” he said.

  Duffy didn’t move. “Your breath’s bad,” was all he said.

  Joe shut the door behind him, then Duffy walked over to a big arm-chair and sat down. He didn’t remove his hat. Morgan leant against the overmantel and waited.

  “We’re due for a talk, ain’t we?” Duffy said.

  Morgan took out a cigar case, selected a long thin Havana, put it between his small teeth, bit off the end neatly and spat the end into the empty grate. He put the cigar case back in his pocket.

  Duffy said, “I’ll smoke too.”

  Morgan looked at him. His hooded eyes were very hostile. “Not mine, you won’t. You talk.”

  Duffy shrugged and took a cigarette from his case. “If that’s how you feel…”

  Morgan hid his face behind thick smoke as he lit the cigar. “You’ve still got five hundred bucks of mine,” he said.

  Duffy nodded. “Sure,” he took his wallet out and counted out five one-hundred bills, then tossed them on the table. “I’ve been keeping them for you.”

  Morgan’s face was quite blank. He looked hard at the five bills, then he put his hands behind him, and raised himself slightly on his toes. “That came as a surprise,” he said, “I thought you were taking me for a ride.”

  Duffy said, “That’s scent money; buy your nance a present.”

  Morgan stiffened. “You watch your mouth,” he said in a thick voice.

  “Let’s skip this, and get down to things. I’ve been wanting a talk with you for some time. When you sent me out on that phoney photo stunt of yours, I fell right into trouble, and I’ve been that way ever since. I’m getting to like it, and I’m seeing quite a bit of dough hanging to it. You play ball with me now, and you going to get into something that’s going to make your ears flap. Let’s get this straight. You wanted to put the screws on Edwin English, through his daughter, ain’t that the way it goes?”

  Morgan stared at him for several minutes, his eyes expressionless, then he said, “Suppose it was?”

  “If I’d turned in those photos of Cattley and the girl together, you could have cracked down on English. You could have warned him off your rackets, and he would have had to like it.”

  Morgan wandered over to a chair and sat down, but he didn’t say anything.

  “You know Murray Gleason?”

  A flicker of surprise went over Morgan’s face. “Yeah, I know him.”

  “What do you know about him?”

  “Where’s this leading?” Morgan was suddenly impatient.

  “I’ll tell you. Gleason is running a big dope racket amongst some of the real big shots in the upper circle. He’s got them so short that they’re screaming murder. That guy has a pension from them of nearly a million bucks. Did you know that?”

  Morgan shook his head. His thick lips curled a little. “That ain’t true,” he said. “Gleason is only a cheap peddler—was when last I knew him.”

  Duffy laughed. “You’re out of date,” he said. “Gleason’s moved into the big-shot class, but he’s smart enough to keep it to himself. He stands no chance of having any political boss smacking his ears down for him.”

  Morgan said at last, “I ain’t interested in Gleason.”

  Duffy nodded. “Sure you ain’t,” he agreed, “but you’d like his racket, wouldn’t you?”

  “When I want his racket, I’ll take it,” Morgan aid, tapping the long ash into the tray.

  Duffy leant back and studied the ceiling. “Gleason’s had a list of all his customers and the amounts they pay for protection,” he said.

  Morgan looked up sharply. “You said ‘had’?”

  Duffy still didn’t take his eyes from the ceiling. “Sure, that’s right. I’ve got it now.”

  Morgan sat silent, then he said, “I see.”

  Duffy said, “It’s in the market right now.”

  Morgan became elaborately casual. Duffy nearly laughed at him. “It might be useful,” he said.

  Duffy said, “You ain’t got the idea quite.” He spoke carefully, as if to a child. “This English girl is tied up with Gleason. She’s as wild and crazy as a loon. These two are working this racket between them. And they’re making plenty out of it. With the list, you can smash their little game, put English on the spot, and have three hundred big shots pouring their dough into your lap, just to keep out of it.”

  Morgan chewed on his cigar. “The way you’re putting it, it sounds good,” he said.

  “It is good. That’s why I’m offering it to you.”

  “What have I done?”

  “You got the dough.”

  “How much?”

  “Fifty grand,” Duffy said. “I don’t mean thirty, or forty. It’s worth fifty, and it’s fifty I want.”

  Morgan shrugged his shoulders slightly. “I guess you’d never peddle that for that amount of dough,” he said.

  Duffy stood up. “Okay,” he said, “I’ll get the money from the other side. Why should I worry?”

  “Wait. You’ve overlooked something.” Morgan looked foxy. “You’ve given me some nice information. I don’t doubt that. Think, would you pay that much money? You forget, I’ve got three guys who’re eating their heads off for a job. I ain’t paying fancy prices for a thing like that. Do you know what I’d do if I had a list like that?”

  Duffy said, “What would you do?”

  Morgan grinned. He looked like a wolf. “What you’ve done. Make a duplicate and sell it to both sides.”

  Duffy’s face was quite blank. “It’s an idea,” he said, considering it.

  Morgan shook his head. “It was a pip of an idea, but not now. When you’ve sold that list to Gleason, I’ll call on him and take it away from him.”

  Duffy said, with a hard smile, “You’re pretty sure of yourself, ain’t you?”

  Morgan raised his fat shoulders again. “And I’ll tell you something else,” he went on, flicking his ash into the tray, “I’ll send Joe to collect that fifty grand off you, when Gleason has paid it. That ought to show you.”

  Duffy moved to the door. “I guess you and I won’t get on so well in the future,” he said sadly. “I’m sorry about that.”

  “You will be,” Morgan said very gently.

  Duffy opened the door. Joe was standing just outside. Duffy looked over his shoulder at Morgan. “There ain’t anything more now, is there?”

  Morgan shook his head. Then a thought crossed his mind and he said, “Wait.”

  Duffy stood still. He didn’t turn his back to Joe, but stood three-quarters, so that he could watch Joe from the corner of his eye. “Yeah?” he said.

  Morgan picked up the five bills from the table. “Suppose you take these and give me the list?”

  “What for?” Duffy was quite startled.

  “You can’t break into the game,” Morgan said. “You’re soft. What’ve you got that’ll stand up against an outfit like mine? Get wise to yourself, you little heel. Where’s the dough coming for your protection? Who’s going to work for an out-of-work button-pusher? You must be nuts to come to me with a proposition like that. Here, give me the list and take the five hundred bucks. That’s what you’re worth, and save yourself a lot of grief.”

  Duffy’s expression didn’t change, but his eyes went suddenly frosty. “Soft? Was that it?” he said.

  Morgan shrugged. “I’ve wasted enough time with you. Scram, I’ll do the job myself.” He put the five bills into
his pocket. Then he looked up quickly. “I want that list tonight,” he said evenly. “You can’t buck the rap. The list tonight, or I’ll turn Joe loose on you.”

  Duffy nodded; he stepped past Joe carefully, who grinned at him, then he walked to the front door and down the steps.

  Olga looked at him and said, “So it didn’t work.”

  Duffy engaged the gear and drove the Buick down the block. He began to swear softly under his breath, without moving his lips. Olga laced her fingers round her knees and stared ahead.

  Duffy swung, the Buick into Seventh Avenue and went with the traffic. He cut right at Longacre Square and drove into Central Park. When he reached the lake, he stalled the engine and stopped.

  Olga said, “Don’t get mad.”

  For a moment he said nothing, then he took off his hat and tossed it at the back of the car. “Those birds certainly got me going,” he said. A grim little smile came to his mouth, and she liked him a lot better.

  “Tell me,” she said.

  He screwed round in his seat, so that he was facing her, and took her gloved hands in his. “This is going to get tough,” he said. “You’d better skip before the war starts.”

  Her eyes narrowed slightly. “Suppose you cut out the hysterics and tell me.”

  Duffy said, “Morgan wants the list. I’m to hand it over tonight or else…”

  Olga said, “No dough?”

  Duffy nodded. “That’s right. No dough.” She was silent for a minute.

  “And then….?”

  “Morgan’s got big ideas. He thinks he’s the only big shot round here. He told me to lay off the big dough with a few compliments on the side.”

  Olga took her hands away and began to pull off her gloves.

  “I expected it, didn’t you?” she said. “Does this dough mean anything to you?”

  Duffy said, “How do you mean, anything?”

  “High-pressure bastards like Morgan can’t imagine you’re serious. You’ve got to have a reputation as a killer to get away with a proposition that you’ve put up.”

  Duffy said, “For God’s sake, what can I do?”

  She leant forward, touched the spring on the dashboard, and took out the Colt automatic.

  “A rat less won’t make any difference. Pop him, before he pops you.”

  Duffy looked at the gun with distaste. He shook his head. “No,” he said, “I guess I wouldn’t go that far.”

  For a moment she sat very still, then she said, “He’s right. You’re soft and you’re yellow.”

  Duffy took the gun from her and put it back into the panel. He sat looking at the knife-edge crease of his trousers. “No dough’s worth murder,” he said. “If you and me are going to get along, we got to think the same way.”

  She put her hand on his arm. “I guess I’m a heel,” she said.

  “Forget it,” he said. “You’re fine.”

  “You go ahead. The next move’s yours.”

  “Let’s take Gleason for a ride. If we get some dough out of him, we can scram to the coast. Would you like that? Some nice hot place with plenty of yellow sand. With a sky real blue and just you and me?”

  She leant back. “It sounds pretty good.”

  “It would be a lot better than having the cops chasing you and getting that nice little bottom of yours burnt. Come on, honey, let’s look Gleason up.”

  He started the engine and drove out of Central Park, down Second Avenue.

  She said, “Go along the river. It’s nice there.”

  He turned left when he could and came out at Bellevue Hospital. They drove with the traffic as far as the Williamsburg Bridge, then Duffy spun the wheel and they headed East.

  They got back to his apartment just as the evening sun was dropping behind the roofs, throwing long, starved shadows.

  They left the Buick at the kerb and walked up the stairs together. Duffy said, “It seems a mighty long time since I had my last drink.”

  “How about putting on the glad rags and taking me out?” she asked.

  He put his hand on her back and pushed her a little. “These stairs are hell, ain’t they? Sure, we’ll go places, but I want Gleason first.”

  He opened the door of the apartment and they walked in together. Then Duffy said, “Well…”

  The room was a complete shambles. The furniture was overturned, drawers had been jerked out and left piled on the floor, the contents strewn over the carpet. The overstuffed furniture had been ripped to pieces and the stuffing dumped in piles. Pictures had been taken down from the walls and were lying with their backs cut. A tornado had certainly hit that room.

  Duffy said gently, “Gleason trying to save himself some dough.”

  Olga wandered round the room, stepping carefully. “That was a swell idea of yours about the bank.”

  Duffy nodded. His face was hard and cold. “I’ll fix that smart bastard,” he said.

  She said, “There’s time for that. You’d better move over to my place.”

  He looked round the wreckage. “I guess it don’t really matter. We’re due to pull out tomorrow, so what the hell.” He wandered into his bedroom and looked round with a grimace. The room had been searched as thoroughly as the sitting-room. There was a lot more mess, because the mattress and the pillows had been ripped.

  Olga peered round the door. “Our love-bed’s been destroyed.”

  “To hell with that,” Duffy said. “They’ve stolen my whisky.” He dug about under the bed and dragged out two battered suitcases covered with feathers. “Get going,” he said. “Do some work for a change.”

  Just then the telephone bell began to ring, and he went over to answer it, leaving her sorting his shirts and things from the wreckage.

  It was Sam at the other end.

  “Why, Sam,” Duffy was pleased. “I’m glad you phoned.”

  “Listen, you bum,” Sam sounded excited. “Don’t tell me you let that hot mamma go home to her people.”

  Duffy said softly into the phone, “She’s in the other room.”

  Sam groaned. “That dame’ll get you into trouble. Look, Bill, for God’s sake chuck this thing, will you? I’ve heard the Post will give you a job, right up your street, and a swell equipment on the side.”

  Duffy said, “Thanks, pal, but I’m on to something big. Not peanut money, but the right stuff. I’m getting out tomorrow and I’m hitting the coast. When I’ve spent it all, I’ll be back. Olga and me are getting on fine.”

  Sam said, “Alice’ll kill me if I don’t bring you back tonight. She told me to drag you by the short hairs.”

  “It’s time you left Alice, if that’s the way she’s talking.” Duffy grinned. “No, I’m going ahead. When we’re in the money, we’ll invite you over.”

  “It’s on the level?” Sam sounded worried.

  “Is any big dough on the level?” Duffy asked. “Don’t you sweat about me, I’m okay.”

  Sam said, “I’m going to have a sweet time with Alice tonight.”

  “Tell her about Olga. She’ll understand. Tell her Olga’s swell. She won’t expect me then.”

  “Is she?” Sam sounded curious.

  “Is she what?”

  “Swell.”

  “O boy! Listen, that honey’s—” Duffy broke off as Olga walked into the room. “Well, Sam, I’ll be seeing you. Don’t do anything you wouldn’t like me to know about.” He dropped the receiver on to the prong.

  Olga smiled at him. “I heard. I’m glad.”

  “You packed my things?”

  “Just finished. There’s so much junk.”

  “Leave it.. We ain’t coming back.”

  He put his arms round her. “I like you a lot,” he said.

  She pulled his face down to hers hungrily. “Was I really good for you?” she whispered.

  He said, “Huh-uh.”

  She put her mouth against his neck. “Best of all?” she asked, taking a little of his skin between her teeth.

  He pressed her to him and said, “
Sure, best of all.”

  They stood there for a long time, just holding each other. Duffy liked the feel of her hair against his face. Then he pushed her away gently, holding her at arm’s length. “I wonder if we’ve been crazy, going for a gang like Morgan’s,” he said. “I could get a job right now, and we could settle down.”

  “Play Gleason and we’ll skip,” she said.

  Duffy shrugged. He walked over to his bags and closed them, pulling the straps down hard. “Yeah,” he said, “you ain’t Alice, are you?”

  She looked puzzled. “Alice?” she said. “Who’s Alice?”

  Duffy grinned at her, but his mind was not with her.

  “Oh, nothing—she’s a sucker. Dough don’t mean a thing to her. It’s love in a poorhouse with her.”

  Olga shrugged. “That type’s nearly dead,” she said a little scornfully, “but you find ’em sometimes.”

  Duffy stood looking round the room, holding the bags in either hand. He stood there so long that Olga touched his arm.

  “Let’s go, hophead,” she said.

  Duffy said, “Sure.” He walked to the door and then stopped again. “I ain’t ever going to see this joint again,” he said.

  Olga pushed past him into the corridor. “Who cares?” she asked, walking down the stairs.

  Duffy looked after her, put one of the bags on the floor, shut the door, picked the bag up again, and followed her down.

  CHAPTER XI

  BACK AT OLGA’S villa, Duffy immediately put through a call to Annabel. While he was waiting for the connection, Olga began packing. Duffy could hear her moving about in the bedroom, overhead, singing in a husky monotone, but with plenty of swing with it.

  The line connected with a little plop, and he said, “Hullo.”

  Annabel’s breathless voice floated to his ear. “Who is it?” she asked.

  Duffy said, “Your boy friend there? This is Duffy.”

  “You’re going to make a bad move soon,” she said fiercely, “and I’m going to get a big laugh when you fall down.”

  Duffy said, “I ain’t got time to talk to you just now, hot pants. Get Gleason.”

  She said very evenly, “They put smart guys like you in a gasoline bath and drop in a match.”