1963 - One Bright Summer Morning (21 page)

C
hita leaned against the wall and watched the horror in Moe's face and the fear in her brother's face. The two men stood by the window, peering out into the darkness. The moonlight fell directly on them and their expressions excited her. So this was big-time, she thought. When the cards were on the table and they were all aces, then you found out who were the men, and who were the boys. Neither of these two, she decided, added up to men.

Moe said hoarsely, “Who's that out there . . . the body?”

“Who do you think?” Riff snarled. “The yellow-skin! I had to kill him! Now you've stuck your flat foot right into it. You've knocked off a Fed!”

Moe moved from the window. He was sweating and shaking.

“I didn't mean to do it,” he said in a stifled voice. “The gun went off. I didn't mean to kill him.”

“Tell that to the judge,” Chita said softly.

“Shut up!” Riff snarled, glaring at her. “I'll get around to you! If there's one Fed out there, there'll be others. This caper's turned sour!”

Chita giggled.

“Oh, boy! Have you said something!”

Moe walked unsteadily out of the room, across the lobby and into Carrie's room.

Carrie had pulled down the blind. She had struggled into slacks and shirt and she was now standing by Junior's cot, white-faced, her eyes abnormally big as she faced Moe. He came in and shut the door. He still held the gun in his hand and Carrie looked at it, flinching.

“Don't be scared,” Moe said and he put the gun out of sight. “We're in trouble. Are you listening?”

Carrie made an effort and pulled herself together.

“Yes . . . I'm listening.”

“There was a Federal Officer outside,” Moe said, words spilling out of his mouth in his anxiety to explain. “I shot him. I didn't mean to. I saw something move and the gun went off. I've never ever shot anyone. I don't expect you to believe me, but it's the truth. Now, we're in trouble.” He paused and looked at the sleeping child. “That means you and the bambino are in trouble too. Not from me . . . I want you to know this. I'm going to do what I can to see you right,

but the trouble will come from the other two. I want to know something. It's important. Are you still on my side?”

Carrie stared at the frightened man.

“Yes,” she said. “Yes, I'm still on your side.”

Moe drew in a deep breath.

“I haven't much longer to live,” he said. “I know that, but while I can, I'll see you right. You stay here and do what I say. I'll get you out of this if I can.”

He went out of the room, shutting the door.

In the living room, he found Riff still at the window.

Chita was perched on the arm of a chair, smoking.

Riff swung around as Moe came in.

“What the hell are we going to do?” he demanded. The quavering fear in his voice made Chita giggle. “How do we get out of here?”

“We'll get the car and we'll make a break for it,” Moe said, knowing such a move would be fatal. All he now wanted was a quick finish. If he could drive into a hail of bullets that would kill him instantly, he would be happy. He couldn't bear the thought of being dragged back to jail. He wanted a quick end and he wanted the baby to be safe.

“We'll go the back way.”

“What are you trying to do?” Chita asked, staring at him. “Commit suicide?”

“I'm telling you: it's our only way out,” Moe lied urgently. “We'll surprise them. Come on: let's get out of here before they surround the place.”

Frightened and sweating, Riff started towards the door.

Chita slid off the arm of the chair and got in his way.

“Riff!”

The note in her voice brought him to an abrupt stop.

“Use your head!” she went on. “If we go out there, they'll blast us to bits!”

Riff hesitated.

“Don't listen to her,” Moe said feverishly. “Come on . . . let's get out of here!”

Riff snarled at him. He was staring at Chita who had that glint in her eyes that Riff knew so well.

“Don't listen to this fat Wop,” she said. “When we go, Riff, we'll take the Dermott woman with us. With her in the car, there won't be any shooting. They won't dare stop us so long as we have her with us.”

Riff gaped at her, then he suddenly relaxed and grinned.

“Kiddo, you're stuffed with brains! Go get her! Come on! What are we waiting for?”

As he started towards the door, Moe said, “Hold it!”

He had his gun in his hand and the sight pointed at Riff.

“You leave her be! We'll go and we'll take our chance, but we don't take Mrs. Dermott!”

Behind the sand dunes, out of sight of the house, Vic, Harper and Brody were talking.

“Look, Mr. Dermott,” Harper was saying tensely, “this is a tight spot. They now know we are out here. We can't get near the house without getting shot. They've already killed one of our boys. We're going to get Miss Van Wylie away and then we'll get more men up here to help. There's nothing we can do for the moment but wait.”

Vic was nearly out of his mind with anxiety.

“My wife and baby are in the house,” he said, trying to control his voice. “Do you imagine I'm going to stay here while they are up there with those killers? I'm going up there right now and you'd better not try to stop me! I have the ransom. I'm going to give it to them and then they'll quit. I don't give a damn if they get away, but I'm going to make sure my wife is safe!”

“I understand how you feel, Mr. Dermott,” Harper said, “but they know we're out here. If you give them the money, they'll use your wife and baby as a shield to get away. They'll put them in their car and they'll make a break for it, knowing we won't shoot. Then when they imagine they are clear, they will turn your wife loose. They may even kill her. You mustn't go up there and you mustn't give them the ransom.”

Brody who had gone back to the jeep now came running up.

“Dennison is on the radio. He wants you,” he said to Harper.

Harper spun around and ran to the radio set. Brody went after him, leaving Vic on his own. Vic hesitated for a brief moment, then he slid into the Cadillac and headed fast towards the ranch house. As he swept past the jeep, Brody shouted at him, but he kept on.

Quickly, Harper told Dennison what was happening.

“And now Dermott's gone up to the house. I warned him to keep clear, but he's gone,” he concluded.

Dennison swore softly.

“You've certainly fouled this one up,” he said. “Get Miss Van Wylie away. Can she drive the jeep?”

Brody shook his head and shrugged when Harper asked him.

“Brody says no. She's hysterical.”

“Then tell Brody to take her direct to her father. That's the first move. These three are certain to use Mrs. Dermott as a hostage . . . that's a bet. You stay where you are. If they break out with Mrs. Dermott, I want to know. If they break out without her, I'll have the road blocks set up. Keep in touch with me and don't go near the house. I want to know what's going on,” and Dennison went off the air.

In the house, Biff and Chita stared at Moe as he threatened them with his gun.

“You gone nuts?” Riff snarled. “We take her with us and we're in the clear!”

“For how long?” Moe said wearily. “We're not going to add to our troubles. We're going without her!”

“We take her with us or we don't go!” Chita said shrilly.

“You do what I tell you!” Moe's face hardened. “I'm sick of you two! I've nothing to lose now. You do what I say or I'll wipe the pair of you out!”

It was at this moment that Vic's car headlights flashed across the curtain. Moe swung around and started towards the window. Chita threw herself at him, sending him reeling. She snatched at the gun and got it. She backed away as Moe recovered his balance. She pointed the gun at him.

“From now on,” she said viciously, “we'll handle this.”

Riff was at the window, peering through the curtains.

Chita snapped off the lights. Riff recognized Vic's Cadillac.

He saw Vic get out of the car.

“It's Dermott!”

“Watch it!” Chita said sharply. “Don't show yourself!”

“Gimme the gun!”

Chita handed him the gun. Riff again peered out of the window. Vic was standing motionless, looking towards the ranch house. He saw Riff at the window.

“I'm alone,” Vic called. “I have the ransom.”

“Palsy, you'd better be alone,” Riff said. “I have a gun on you. Come on in, with the dough.”

Vic lifted the two suitcases from the car and walked up the veranda steps.

“Let him in,” Riff said to Chita. He remained, watching at the window as Chita went into the lobby.

Moe stood motionless, but his eyes peered around the moonlit room for a weapon. Near him, on an occasional table stood a small bronze statuette of a naked girl. He edged towards it until he was close to the table.

Aware that he had moved, Riff looked swiftly at him.

“Don't start anything you can't finish, Fatso,” he said.

“I'm not starting anything,” Moe said. “This is the end of the road. We're not going to get away with it.”

“Shut your mouth! You may not, but we will!”

Vic came in, followed by Chita who sat once again on the arm of the lounging chair.

“So we have Feds out there, palsy?” Riff said viciously.

“Was this your bright idea?”

“There were two of them,” Vic said. “One of them is dead. The other is taking the Van Wylie girl home.”

Through the open window they could hear the jeep start up. A few moments later they saw the headlights of the jeep lighting up the dirt road as the jeep headed fast towards Pitt City.

“Yeah?” Riff sneered. “You expect me to believe that? Come on . . . how many more of them are out there?”

“I've told you. There's no one now, but there will be. In another hour the place will be swarming with them. Here's the money . . . take it and get out!”

Riff jerked the curtains into place.

“Put the light on.”

Chita reached out from where she was sitting and snapped on the lights.

“Where's Kramer?” Riff demanded, glaring at Vic. “Why isn't he here?”

“Why should he be?” Vic returned. “This is your share of the ransom. He's already on the run.”

Riff looked at the suitcases.

“How much?”

“Over a million and a half,” Vic said.

“You're lying!”

“See for yourself.”

Vic put the suitcases on the settee and snapped back the locks. He opened the cases and stood away. The Cranes stiffened at the sight of all the money packed in the suitcases.

Then Riff, hypnotized by the sight of so much wealth, lowered his gun and went across to the suitcases. He had to pass Moe and this was Moe's chance. Moe's hand dropped on the bronze statuette, lifted it and smashed the base of it down on Riff's wrist. His movements were so fast the eye couldn't follow them.

The gun dropped from Riff's hand and he yelled out with pain, clutching his wrist and staggering away. Moe scooped up the gun and covered both the Cranes.

Chita hadn't moved. She sat on the arm of the lounging chair, her face expressionless, her eyes glittering.

Moe said, “Tell me the truth, Mr. Dermott. Are there Feds out there? We'll need help. I'm turning these two in . . . I'm turning myself in. If they're out there, call them in.”

“There's one out there,” Vic said.

“Okay, then call him in,” Moe said.

Nursing his wrist and cursing, Riff leaned against the wall as Vic started towards the door. Moe swung around and covered Riff with his gun. His back was half turned to Chita. He didn't see her slide her hand under the cushion of the chair. Her fingers groped for and found Vic's automatic which she had taken from Riff's trousers pocket the previous night and had hidden under the cushion.

Vic stepped out into the lobby. As he walked towards the front door, Carrie came out of the bedroom.

“Oh, Vic!” she exclaimed joyfully. “I thought I heard your voice.”

He went to her, catching her in his arms.

“It's all right, darling,” he said. “Just a moment . . . I'm getting the Federal Officer. I . . .”

The violent bang of gunfire that exploded from the lounge turned them into frozen, frightened statues. Under the cushion, Chita had thumbed back the safety catch, lifted the gun from its hiding place, levelled it at Moe's back and squeezed the trigger.

Moe felt the impact of the bullet without pain. It was as if someone had hit him with a heavily padded sledge hammer. He went down, knocking over an occasional table, his gun sliding out of his hand and coming to rest at Riff's feet.

Her face set in a white, hard mask, Chita stared at Moe, watched him as he moved in a feeble endeavour to get to his feet, then raising the sight of the gun slightly and aiming at his head, she again squeezed the trigger.

In the brief seconds before the second bullet smashed into Moe's skull, he thought of his mother. He wondered if she had been frightened to die. He regretted not being with her when she had passed on. In these brief seconds, he realized, even if he hadn't listened to Kramer, with her death, he would have had no future. People, he thought, had to live with people, and he had never had anyone to live with except his mother. With her gone out of his life, he knew he was lost. There was no pain. He knew he was dying. At least, he thought, he would never again be caged up in the awful cell. Just before the second bullet killed him he thought of the Dermott's baby.

Riff picked up Moe's gun with his left hand.

“The son-of-a-bitch's broken my wrist,” he whined.

“Oh, shut up!” Chita snapped and going to the door, she covered Vic and Carrie as they stood motionless, staring at her. “Come on in,” she said, “and be careful how you come.”

The sound of the two shots came clearly to Harper. He immediately contacted Dennison on the two-way radio.

“There's shooting going on up there,” he reported. “Looks like the Dermotts want help. Permission for me to see what's happening.”

“You stay right where you are,” Dennison said firmly. “In less than an hour, you'll have help. Pitt City police are sending men out to you. I must know if these hoods make a break out and if they use the Dermotts as shields. You stay right where you are and report to me . . . understand?”