Solomon's Vineyard (19 page)

“Are you in love with him?”

“Oh, no, honey. It's a business arrangement.”

“How much does he want?”

“Half. And you got to leave town.”

“I'm the fall guy, eh?”

“If the cops come in. But McGee will see they don't.”

“How?”

“They're in his pocket, honey. He's the business manager for the
Vineyard.” She laughed. “You're not such a smart detective.”

“I guess not.”

“All you have to do is disappear. Later, when everything's quiet,
I'll join you. You'll like that, won't you, dear?”

I said “Yes.”

“Now where's the money?”

I pulled the roll out of my pants pocket. She counted it. “Where's
the other seven thousand?”

“In my wallet.”

“Keep it.” She put her arms around my neck and kissed me. “Oh, honey,
it's not my fault. I love you, honest. McGee's just too smart, that's
all.”

I tried to kiss her lips, but she wouldn't let me. I wrestled with
her for a minute, and then I picked her up and carried her into the
bedroom.

Afterwards I lay beside her on the bed. Now I knew everything that
had happened. The Elders had told McGee of the robbery and he'd known
the Princess was involved because he'd talked over just that kind of a
job with her. When he accused her she told him everything, putting me
on the spot. Then they made their little plan. I would disappear, and
they would blame the robbery on me.
And the murder!
Brother,
that was what worried me: the murder! It would be better for them if I
never got caught, but nobody would believe my story if I did. They'd
have an alibi.

The goddamdest thing was I still couldn't do anything about it, even
with McGee gone. The Princess still had the whip. I'd have to take the
rap! Or do a bunk. I figured I had about ten grand. That wouldn't last
a murder fugitive very long.

“What are you thinking about, honey?”

“About how nice it'll be when we're together.”

“We'll have fun.”

We'll have fun like hell! I thought. “When do you want me to leave?”

“Right away.”

“I can't. Grayson's coming this afternoon. If I'm not around, he'll
make a lot of trouble.”

She thought about that. “All right, honey. Stay until tonight. And
come out here before you go.”

“That'll be nice.” I scowled at her. “Only I won't like thinking
about the Grayson gal.”

“Don't think about her then.”

“Just tell me one thing,” I said. “Who kills her?”

“I don't know.”

I touched the soft skin on her shoulder. “You must have heard
something.”

“All I know is the Elders have a kind of a ceremony in a room next to
the one where Solomon lies. That's at midnight. Then they take the
Bride into the big room and leave her by the coffin.”

“Yeah?”

“And when they come for her in the morning she's dead.”

I slid off the bed and got a bottle of brandy and two glasses. We
drank.

“Dead how?”

“A knife in the heart. Solomon's knife.”

She sat with her eyes half closed, sipping the drink. “It's crazy,”
she said, “but they believe Solomon comes back and does it. It's his
way of keeping in contact with the earth.”

“It's spooky,” I said. “Do you believe it?”

“A guy that's been dead five years coming back and knocking off
someone? Don't make me laugh.”

“Well, who does it?”

“You asked me that,” she said. “Honey, let's talk about something
else.” She rubbed my thigh. “You haven't been dead five years, have
you?”

I got back to the Arkady just before four. On my way through the
lobby the clerk gave me a note. It said:

Me for the peaceful life. Goodbye.

Ginger.

The clerk said she'd checked out at noon. I felt sorry until I
remembered she hadn't returned the bracelet. The bitch! I went up to my
room, but I hadn't more than poured myself a drink of rye when the
phone rang.

“A Mr. Grayson to see you.”

I went down to the lobby. Grayson was a heavy-set man, almost as big
as me, with a large head. He had grey hair. He was wearing a tan Palm
Beach suit. We shook hands.

“God, what heat!” he said.

“It's been like this all week.”

“Where's the girl?”

I said: “Let's go where we can talk, Mr. Grayson.”

We went into the bar. Grayson had a glass of milk. I had a rye
highball. “Well,” he said. “Where is she?”

“I'll have her tonight.”

“You'd damn well better.” He glared at me. “I've paid you ten
thousand dollars. You produce or I'll throw you in jail.”

“Like hell you will,” I said.

That made him angry, but he kept it down. “The hell I won't,” he
said. “But that's tomorrow. We're friends until then.”

“Sure,” I said.

“How're you going to get her tonight?”

I told him we were taking the chief of police to the Vineyard in the
evening. “We'll crack the place wide open.”

“Why haven't you done it before?”

“It's a long story.”

“I've got lots of time.”

“All right,” I said. I told him some of the story, mostly about Oke
Johnson, McGee and Banta, but I didn't mention the Princess or the
Ceremony of the Bride.

“Then McGee is the man who killed Johnson.”

“No,” I said.

“Then who?”

“If I'm right it'll be a goddam surprise to a lot of people.”

“You'd better tell me,” Grayson said.

“Later.”

His face got red, but he took it. He was plenty worried about the
girl. I wondered how he'd gotten such a red face from drinking milk.

“The chief'll pick you up here at eleven-thirty, Mr. Gray-soh,” I
said.

His eyes were flat and hard. “You'd better come through.

I got up. “I always come through.”

I left him to pay for the drinks. It never does to buy anything for a
client.

I went upstairs and called the chief. “I was just going to call you,”
he said.

“What for?”

“Pug wants to see you.”

I told him I'd be right over. I finished the rye and then I went down
to the station. The chief was in his office.

“Listen,” I said. “Before I see Pug I want to tell you about a job we
got to do tonight.”

I told him to get a dozen or so men around eleven-thirty and pick up
Grayson and go to the Vineyard. There he was to surround the temple and
wait for me to tell him what to do.

The chief's face was worried. “I don't know as I ought to fool around
the Vineyard. Not without a warrant.”

“You'd better,” I said; “unless you want me to ask the Governor for
some state troopers.”

He said, don't get sore. He said, hadn't we played ball before? I
said: “Then you'll have Grayson and the men there around midnight?” He
said he would.

“Okay,” I said. “Now where's Pug Banta?”

The jail smelled of unwashed toilets, and it was damp, like a cellar.
A bulb burned in the corridor between the cells, making deep shadows. A
cockroach as big as a half-dollar ran on the cement in front of us. I
kicked at him and missed.

The chief said in an aggrieved voice: “I don't know why in hell he
wants to see you.”

The turnkey clanged the metal gate behind us. I said: “Why didn't you
bump him off?”

The chief swore so much I could hardly understand him. I gathered his
men had double-crossed him. Instead of shooting Pug, they had grabbed
him. I wanted to ask him why he hadn't been there, but I didn't. I knew
the answer. “Well, he'll fry,” I said.

“I don't know,” the chief said mournfully. “I wish he was in some
other jail.''

We came to a steel door, our shoes making a hollow sound on the
cement. A couple of guys in a cell begged for cigarettes. In another
cell a woman was weeping. “A drunk,” the chief said. The turnkey opened
the door and we went into a room with two cells. One of the cells was
empty and Pug Banta was in the other. “If it ain't my fat pal,” he
said.

They hadn't touched him. I guess he was too important for them to
beat up, even with a murder rap hanging over him. I knew the chief
would have liked to, because of Carmel. If anybody needed a beating,
Pug did.

Pug said: “You guys scram. I want to talk to fatso, my pal.”

Chief Piper glanced at me. “Go ahead,” I said. “I'll tell you if he
says anything you ought to know.”

The chief went out with the turnkey. They locked the steel door
behind them.

“So you double-crossed me?” I said: “What else did you expect?”

Pug stood with his hands over his head, holding to the bar. He looked
like pictures of a gorilla. There was that same over-development of
arms and shoulders and chest. All he needed was more hair.

“I got a couple of things to tell you,” he said. “Co ahead.”

“One of 'em is I'm going to get you when I'm sprung.” His voice was
so deep in his throat I had to move closer to hear him. “I'll get you
if it's the last thing I do.”

“The only trouble,” I said; “is you'll never get sprung.”

“Maybe,” he said. “Now the other thing . . .” He reached out of the
bars with his long arms, caught my coat and jerked me forward. As my
face hit the bars he held the coat with his left hand, put his right
arm around my neck and then grabbed a bar. He had me in kind of a vice
and when he jerked back I thought my neck had broken.

“Now wise guy . . .” Pug snarled. The hand holding the bar kept me
from pulling back. I braced with both hands, but it didn't do any good.
I couldn't get far enough back to breathe. I felt a terrible pressure
behind my eyeballs. I tried to shout, but I couldn't make a sound. My
head was bursting. I reached out with my right hand and hit up at Pug's
stomach. He couldn't move away without letting go with his right hand.
I drove my fist into his groin. He groaned and let go the bar and
jerked free.

I got my breath back and said: “Come on and fight, you bastard.”

Pug moved in, snarling, and hit me through the bars. I felt my teeth
give and tasted salty blood. He tried to hit me again, but I caught his
arm and jerked him as hard as I could against the bars. His head hit
the steel with a
thwack.
I reached both hands through the
opening in the bars and clasped them behind his neck. I pulled forward,
but the bars were a little too narrow for his head to go through. I
pulled, bracing hard with my feet. He tried to claw me, but I kept my
legs closed. I gave a big jerk and his head came through the bars,
leaving skin behind. One side of his face was a mass of blood. I let go
his neck and he tried to pull back, but couldn't. His head was still
too big. I stepped closer and punched his face, using both hands. It
was like a work-out with a punching-bag. I beat his face to a pulp. At
last he slid down on the cement, his head still sticking out the bars.
Blood began to pool under one cheek.

I kicked his head a few times; but it wasn't worth while. He was out
cold. I wiped the blood from my face with a handkerchief and pounded at
the steel door. The turnkey opened it. Chief Piper stared at my face.

“What happened?”

“I bumped my head.”

The chief said: “I was afraid Pug might try something.” He did,” I
said. “But it didn't work.”

I LOOKED AT my watch by the arc light over the street-car stop. It
was ten minutes past eleven. Fifty minutes and the Ceremony would
start. I felt empty. I wanted a drink. I looked to see if I had the
flashlight and the pistol I'd taken from the punk. Then I walked slowly
down the road to the lane that led into the Vineyard, thinking about
what I had to do. Heat lightning flickered in the sky.

The Princess had on black silk lounging pyjamas and Chinese red
slippers. The black silk made her skin look very white.

“Hello, honey.”

I said “Hello,” and got a drink of brandy. I sat on the big divan and
drank the brandy. I could feel it grab my stomach. The Princess stood
looking down at me. She made me nervous.

“Have a drink, baby,” I said. “A farewell toast.”

“Did you know McGee had been killed?” she asked.

“Yeah, I read. Too bad.”

“Did you know about it this afternoon?”

“No.”

Her eyes were a glassy blue. “You didn't frame him, did you?”

“How could I do that?”

“Well, it's damn funny.” Her eyes narrowed with thinking. “Both Pug
and McGee were after you, and now one's dead and the other's in jail.”

“Sure,” I said. “I fixed it. They call me Superman.”

“God damn it!” she said. “I liked McGee. He had brains.”

“Listen,” I said. “I didn't frame McGee. And if that's a lie, God
strike me dead.”

I waited, but nothing happened. Her face got softer
looking
and she poured herself a drink. Then she came and sat by me on the
divan. I could smell her.

“I guess you'll have to take his place,” she said.

“Me? You're nuts. I'm leaving tonight.”

“You
were
leaving, honey. But now you're business manager of
the Vineyard.”

“I don't want any part of the Vineyard.”

“Don't you?” Her voice was as sweet as if she was talking to a baby.
“Suppose the police heard about the robbery? And the murder? And found
your fingerprints in the vault?”

“I'd be in a hell of a fix.”

“Well, nobody will tell them, honey, as long as you stick around and
run things.”

“I get it.”

“I knew you would.” She stared at me, and then she unbuttoned my
shirt and ran her hand over my chest. “You're not sore, are you?”

“I don't know.”

“A girl likes to have a hold over the man she loves. Can't you
understand that, dear?”

“Give me another drink.”

She got the bottle of brandy and filled both glasses. I asked: “How
long does this last?”

“From now on. Won't that be nice, the two of us together.”

“What about your wanting to wear pretty clothes and dance and see
shows and go to night clubs?”

“That was just talk, honey. I'm very happy here . .. with you.” She
leaned towards me. “Honey, you love me, don't you?”