I'll Bury My Dead Read online

  The man with the scar lay motionless.

  Leon glanced down the alley, wondering if the fat man would come this way. He groped around in the darkness until he found the gun the man with the scar had dropped. Then he ran back to where he had left the girl, hoisted her on his shoulder and started off toward the patch of light coming through the open doorway.

  He held the girl around the back of her knees with his left hand and the gun in his right.

  As he neared the patch of light, he slowed down, keeping close to the wall, and began to edge forward, his ears cocked for the slightest suspicious sound. Nothing happened, and he paused by the door, his gun thrust forward, and peered into the dimly lit passage.

  There was no sign of the fat man, and after listening for a moment or two without hearing anything Leon crossed the patch of light, quickened his stride and went on down the alley.

  After he had walked fifty yards or so, he made out a faint light ahead of him. He increased his speed and kept on until he reached the end of the alley. He paused again, keeping in the shadows, and peered out of the mouth of the alley into a dark and deserted side street.

  He stepped out of the alley and looked to the right and left. At the end of the street he could see the dirty street lights and the iron escapes and balconies of Eastern Street.

  What was going to happen, he wondered, when he walked into Eastern Street with this girl slung over his shoulder? Suppose he ran into a cop?

  He glanced back down the alley, wondering if the man with the scar had come to the surface. There was no time to waste. Somehow he had to reach the waiting taxi and get the hell out of this district.

  As he began to move forward, he felt the girl stir. She gave a little sigh and her legs moved in his grip.

  He kept on until he reached the corner of the road leading into Eastern Street. Then he swung her off his shoulder and propped her against the wall. Her knees buckled, and she would have slid to the ground if he hadn’t held her up. He shook her and slapped her face lightly.

  “Come on,” he urged. “Snap out of it! You’re all right. Come on. Wake up!”

  She opened her eyes and looked blankly at him, and then closed them again. He shook her once more.

  “Come on! We’re going for a walk. Wake up!”

  “Don’t want to go for a walk,” she mumbled. “Wanna go to sleep.”

  He relaxed his grip on her, and when she felt she was falling she made an effort to stay upright, clutching hold of him.

  “What’s happening? Where am I?”

  “You’re tight, baby, and far from home. Come on. I want to get you home. You don’t want me to carry you, do you?”

  He put his arm around her and started her moving. She staggered along at his side, leaning heavily against him.

  Ahead of them, Leon saw the car the two men had come in. It stood some fifty yards or so from No. 23, and he hurriedly crossed the street away from it.

  “I want to lie down,” the girl said suddenly. “I can’t go a step further.”

  “Yes, you can. It’s not far,” Leon said encouragingly. “Come on. You’re doing fine.”

  Before he could stop her, she flopped down on the sidewalk.

  “I’m going to stay right here,” she said sullenly.

  A man stepped out of the shadows, making Leon start. He stared at the girl on the sidewalk, gave Leon a quick suspicious stare, but kept on up the street.

  Leon took off his hat and fanned himself with it. He was finding this situation a difficult and trying experience.

  “Up you get,” he said, bending over the girl. “If you sit on that cold stone there’s no knowing the damage you’ll do to yourself.”

  “That’s not your business,” the girl said coldly. “I’m going to stop right here.”

  “Come on, baby,” Leon pleaded. “You look silly sitting there.”

  “Didn’t you hit me a while back?” the girl asked, screwing up her eyes and staring at him.

  “Hit you? Never,” Leon said. “Come on up. You want to get home, don’t you?” He put his hands under her armpits and hauled her to her feet.

  “My home’s over there,” she said, pointing to No. 23. “You’re taking me away from it.”

  “I’m going to buy you a drink,” Leon said hurriedly. “Something long and cold with a kick in it that’ll make you steam at the ears. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

  “What kind of a drink’s that?” she asked, showing interest.

  “They’ve bottled a kick of a mule,” Leon said. “It’s not on the market yet. Come on. Let’s get going before the bar shuts.”

  She went with him, leaning on his arm, and he hurried her down the street, looking over his shoulder every now and then, expecting to see either the man with the scar or the fat man coming after them.

  The girl suddenly tugged at his arm, slowing down.

  “What now?” he said impatiently. “Can’t you keep walking for five minutes?”

  “I have an idea I don’t know who you are,” she said, swaying against him. “Or do I?”

  “Sure, you know who I am,” Leon said briskly. “I’m Ed. Remember me? I’m the guy who’s going to buy you a drink.”

  “Oh, yes.” She nodded and smiled. “I remember now. Ed. When am I going to get that drink?”

  “As soon as we get to the bar,” he said, taking her arm and hustling her along. “Step out, sweetheart. It won’t be long now.”

  They reached the corner and Leon drew in a deep breath of relief when he saw the taxi waiting. The driver was walking up and down, munching on a sandwich, which he waved at Leon when he saw him.

  “I wasn’t going to wait much longer,” he said. “I see you’ve found company.”

  The girl stared at the driver.

  “Who’s this guy?” she demanded, turning to Leon.

  “That’s Sam,” Leon said. “You remember Sam. He’s the guy who’s going to take you to the drink I’m going to buy you.”

  “Oh. You didn’t mention Sam,” the girl said, frowning. “Hi, Sam,” she went on to the driver. “Where’s this drink Ed’s going to buy me?”

  The driver scowled.

  “My name ain’t Sam,” he said. “It’s George. Where do you get that Sam stuff from?”

  “Aw, forget it!” Leon said impatiently. “Sam or George, what the hell does it matter? Come on, let’s all go for a ride.” He pulled open the car door and took hold of the girl’s arm. “Hop in, sweetheart. Just a little ride around the corner.”

  She pulled away from him and jumped back.

  “Oh, no! I’m not that dumb!” she said. “I’m not going on any rides with you. What is this? A white-slave snatch?”

  “I’m going to buy you a drink,” Leon said, restraining his temper with a superhuman effort. “Come on, baby. Let’s all get in this hack and go find that drink.”

  “I’m going home,” the girl said, and the finality in her voice made Leon’s heart sink.

  “Come on. You don’t want to go home yet. It’s too early,” he said.

  “I’m going home,” the girl repeated and thrust her hands into the pockets of her coat. As she did so the coat opened, and the driver got a good view of the black nylon pyjamas.

  He caught his breath sharply.

  “Holy mackerel! I wouldn’t like my wife to wear an outfit like that!” he said in a hushed voice.

  “Suppose you two go and jump in a lake,” the girl said coldly, flapping her coat to. “I’m going home.” She turned and staggered off the way she had come.

  Leon jumped forward and grabbed her by her arm, pulling her back.

  “Hey, you can’t go off like that,” he said. “We’re going to have a drink together.”

  She tried to break his hold, but he held on.

  “It’s time I started to scream,” she said, leaning against him. “I knew I should have done something all the time I’ve been with you. I should have started screaming minutes ago.”

  “What do you want to s
cream for?” Leon asked, hurriedly releasing her. He took out his cigarette case, opened it and offered it. “Have a cigarette?”

  “They’re not doped, are they?” she asked suspiciously.

  “Only the ones on this side. The others are Camels,” Leon said gravely.

  She took a Camel while the driver watched with bulging eyes.

  “Hey, mister,” he said. “What’s going on around here?”

  “Keep out of this,” Leon snarled. “You look after your cab.” He put his arm round the girl’s shoulders and moved her toward the cab. “How about that drink, baby? The bar will shut if we don’t snap it up.”

  She jerked away from him.

  “I’m not going. I’m going home.”

  Regretfully Leon decided he would have to hit her again. Time was running out. Any moment the man with the scar might show up, and then the lid would blow off.

  “Don’t go yet,” he said, closing his right fist. “Look at the moon up there. Doesn’t that make you want to stay out and have a good time?”

  She looked up. The side of her jaw made a perfect target. His fist swung up, but before it could connect, his wrist was grabbed by the driver who shoved him back so violently he overbalanced and sat on the sidewalk.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” the driver demanded fiercely. “I don’t stand for that stuff. What is all this, anyway?”

  “He hit me before,” the girl said furiously and running over to Leon she kicked him. “That’ll teach you to strike a woman, you big gorilla.”

  Leon grabbed her legs and brought her down on top of him. He twisted her arms behind her, picked her up and rushed her over to the cab.

  The driver blocked the way, his eyes bolting out of his head.

  “Not in my cab!” he said. “Let her go or I’ll make you!”

  “She’s crazy,” Leon said, struggling to hold the girl. “I’ve got to take her home. Let me get her inside before she starts trouble.”

  The girl threw back her head and let out a scream that set Leon’s teeth on edge. He tried to cover her mouth with his hand, but the driver rushed up and hit him on the side of his head, sending him staggering.

  The girl wriggled out of his grasp. He made a vain grab at her, got a grip on her coat, held her for a second, then she slipped out of the coat, leaving it in his hands. She began a staggering run down the street.

  “What’s going on here?” a voice demanded, and a red-faced cop materialized out of the shadows.

  “This guy’s trying to kidnap this girl,” the driver said, pointing to the girl, who had stopped running and had turned to look back. The street light fell directly on her, and the cop drew in a sharp breath.

  “She can’t show herself in the street like that,” he said angrily. “It ain’t decent.”

  Leon threw down the coat in disgust.

  “Two guys are gunning for that girl. I want to get her someplace safe,” he said to the cop. “It’s okay with me if you’ll arrest her just so long as she doesn’t go back to her apartment.”

  The cop stared at him suspiciously.

  “What two guys?” he demanded.

  “He’s lying, boss,” the driver said anxiously. “He was going to hit her but I stopped him. He’s got doped cigarettes, and he’s trying to kidnap her.”

  “Aw, shut up!” Leon said angrily. He turned to the cop. “Let’s you and me go and talk to the girl. Let’s all go down to the station. We can sort it out there.”

  “You stick right here,” the cop said to the driver. “You come with me,” he went on to Leon, “and no funny business or you’ll need a new skull.”

  The two of them started down the street. When the girl saw them coming, she turned and ran.

  She kept in the middle of the street, and she ran toward the car parked near the curb by the man with the scar. When she was within twenty yards of it, Leon saw the shadowy outline of a man move out of a nearby doorway.

  “Look out!” he shouted to the cop. “That guy over there!”

  The cop slowed and came to a stop.

  “What guy?”

  Leon sprinted on, pulling the gun he had picked up from his hip pocket.

  The girl suddenly stopped running, turned and faced him as he came rushing down the street. She was breathing heavily, her hands clasped over her breasts.

  A spurt of yellow flame came from the doorway, then a crash of gunfire.

  The girl screamed, and Leon yelled to her to drop flat. He fired into the doorway as the cop came pounding up, gun in hand.

  Another shot came from the doorway and Leon felt the slug fan air against his face. He swerved away out of the light of the street lamp.

  The cop dropped flat and fired into the doorway. His gun cracked three times.

  From out of the shadows on the opposite side of the street to the doorway came gunfire. The dark night was lit by gun flashes.

  The cop arched his back, flopped, levered himself off the ground, remained for a second or so on hands and knees, then his cap fell off as he flattened out, blood running down the side of his face. His fingers slackened on his gun.

  Leon scrambled behind a garbage can and fired twice into the shadows where the shots had come from. The fat man came out into the light, bent double, his hands pressing his belly. He walked two or three paces, then his knees folded and he spread out face down on the sidewalk.

  Leon looked toward the girl.

  She stood motionless in the middle of the road, her hands now over her mouth. She didn’t seem to have been hit, and he yelled at her to get down.

  He saw a movement in the doorway opposite him, caught a glint of steel as the man with the scar lifted his gun to fire at the girl. Leon fired a split second before the other got his gun up.

  The man with the scar dropped the gun, ran out into the street, holding his right wrist. Leon fired at him again, but missed.

  The man with the scar ducked behind the parked car.

  Cautiously Leon straightened.

  The girl turned and began to run blindly down the street again.

  Leon hesitated, undecided whether to go after the girl or tackle the man with the scar. He decided to go after the girl.

  She was running fast and had a hundred yards start. He increased his stride and pelted after her.

  People were coming out of their houses now, standing cautiously at their front doors, peering into the street.

  Two men ran out of a house and threw themselves on Leon, bringing him to the ground.

  “Let me go!” he raved, hitting out. “I’ve got to stop that girl!”

  “You’ll wait until the cops come,” one of the men panted as he clung to Leon. The other, a small, determined man in shirtsleeves, struggled to hold on to Leon’s left arm.

  Leon flung him off and crashed his fist into the other man’s face, bowling him over.

  He scrambled to his feet and went down the street like a bullet out of a gun, but he had lost sight of the girl now. The long, badly lit street was empty except for faces at the windows and people staring from the balconies.

  The girl ran blindly until she reached an alley which she knew would bring her to the back of the entrance of No. 23. She spurted, crossing the street and entered the alley. She was gasping for breath as she ran. Her one idea was to get back to her apartment and lock herself in.

  The alley was dark and narrow. It stretched out before her like a long, black tunnel. She ran for about twenty yards, then stopped abruptly, her nerve suddenly failing as she felt the darkness close in on her. She leaned against the wall, gasping for breath, too frightened to run back the way she had come. Too frightened even to scream.

  She imagined something moved near her, and she stared into the darkness, her heart hammering so violently she felt she was suffocating.

  “I’ve been waiting for you, May,” a man’s voice said close to her, and she felt warm breath against her cheek, breath that had the sickly sweet smell of chewing gum. She felt her body freeze and her spirit
seemed to start out of her body in a desperate, panic-stricken effort to run away. “I though you would come this way,” the voice went on. “So I waited.”

  Out of the darkness a hand touched her arm and fingers closed around her wrist.

  “We didn’t want you to talk, May,” the voice continued. “You know rather too much about me. I told Penn and Fats to shut your pretty mouth but they’ve made a mess of it. I always seem to have to do these jobs myself.”

  A cold ball of fear began to uncoil inside her, rising in her throat in a wild, terrified scream. As she released the scream she felt an agonizing pain before her breasts. Her groping hands closed over his hand that held something that seemed to be growing out of her.

  “What have you done to me?” she screamed, trying to tear his hand away. “What have you done?”

  His hand went away, and her hands closed around the cold, ivory handle of a knife and she realized with sick terror that the blade was inside her.

  She leaned against the wall, sweat running down her face, her knees sagging, feeling the pain as it moved inside her as if it were alive. She was too frightened to pull out the knife. She held on to the handle, crying weakly as she felt her life draining out of her.

  III

  Nick English was still pacing his study floor when Ed Leon came in.

  Leon wandered over to an armchair, sank into it and pushed his hat to the back of his head.

  “Jay-sus! What an evening I’ve had,” he said. “If there’s a drink handy I could do with it.”

  English crossed to the cellarette and made two large whiskies.

  “Where’s the girl?” he asked as he brought the drinks to the desk.

  “I muffed it,” Leon said, took the glass and drank half the whisky. “Right at this minute she’s in the morgue, poor kid.” He put down his glass and grimaced.

  “You mean she’s dead?”

  “Yep. Someone stuck a knife in her guts,” Leon returned, and went on to tell English the events of the evening.

  English sat smoking, his eyes staring fixedly at the blotter on his desk, not missing a word.

  “Someone was waiting for her in the alley,” Leon concluded. “I heard her scream, but by the time I got to her she was beyond help. Someone knifed her. He didn’t leave the knife, but he did leave something more important to us.”