He Won't Need it Now

     The thin man looked at him, hesitated, then walked down the passage. He disappeared through a dirty green baize door, and Duffy leant against the wall, waiting. After a short delay the door opened again and a very light-coloured negro came out. He was tall and slender, with a heavy wave in his oily hair. He gave Duffy a hard look. “You want me?”

     Duffy said, “Ross sent me here I want to keep under cover for a few days.”

     Gilroy passed a long thin hand over his hair. “Okay,” he said. “A hundred bucks a day.”

     Duffy sidled close. “Forget it,” he said. “You don't make profit out of me.”

     Gilroy looked at him, then his large lips smiled. “No,” he said, “that was bad. Ross's a good friend of mine. Make it twenty-five.”

     Duffy took out his roll, peeled ten saw bucks and handed them over. “That'll hold you for a few days,” he said.

     Gilroy moved near the light, counted the bills, put them in his pocket, and grinned some more.

     He said, “How low do you want to stay, mister?”

     “When you read the papers, you'll see,” Duffy told him. “I want a meal, plenty to drink and a telephone.”

     Gilroy led him through the baize door, down three stairs, past a bead-curtained door and through another door at the end of a dimly-lit passage. The room was small. It contained a bed, table, two arm-chairs, and a small radio.

     “I'll get you some chuck right away.”

     Duffy said, “How safe's this joint?”

     Gilroy rolled his eyes. “It's okay. I'm paying plenty for protection. The bulls won't worry you here.”

     He left Duffy and shut the door behind him. In the corner of the room, standing on a small table, was a telephone Duffy looked at it, his mouth pursed thoughtfully. Then he walked over and dialled.

     He recognized Gleason's voice. “Too bad you didn't get the list when you knocked my girl-friend off,” he said, biting off each word.

     There was a startled gasp as Gleason caught his breath. “Why, you double-crossing rat,” he jerked out. “What's the big idea? I'm just back from the 'Red Ribbon'. I had the dough and you never showed up.”

     Duffy said, “Cut the comedy. You killed Olga and you pinned it on me. Okay, wise guy, you ain't getting away with it....”

     Gleason broke in. “What the hell is this? Who's Olga?”

     Duffy stared at the wall for a full minute, then he said, “I'm coming over. You got that dough still?”

     Gleason said, “Sure.”

     And Duffy hung up.

     Gilroy walked in with a bottle of whisky, three bottles of ginger ale and a glass. “Your chuck's coming right now.”

     Duffy took the whisky from him and poured out a long shot. He shook his head at the ginger ale, and drank quickly. Just then a knock came on the door, and the thin man came in carrying a tray. He put it on the table, and glanced at Duffy before going out.

     Duffy sat down and began to cat. Gilroy hung around, fidgeting by the radio. He said at last, “I knew that dame.”

     Duffy looked up, a fork full of food suspended before his mouth. “Huh?”

     Gilroy said, “I guess you'd better get moving.”

     Duffy laid the fork down. “What the hell's this?”

     “Olga Shann, I knew her.”

     Duffy picked up the fork again. “She was a swell kid,” he said. “I didn't kill her, if that's what's biting you.”

     Gilroy stirred restlessly, beads of sweat hung on his top lip. “It looks that way,” his voice was exceedingly hostile.

     Duffy went on eating. “A little judy called Annabel English shoved that knife into her,” he said. “This is a frame-up. I'm it.”

     Gilroy took out a handkerchief and carefully wiped his mouth. He stood still, looking at his bright yellow shoes.

     Duffy finished the meal in silence. Then he drank some more whisky and sat back. He lit a cigarette, and forced two thin jets of smoke down his nostrils. “If you like that dame as much as I did,” he said, “I know how you feel.”

     Gilroy relaxed a little and came over to the table. “Ross's never sent me a bum yet,” he said. “I guess I was wrong.”

     Duffy nodded. “Sure, that's okay.”

     “I'd like to make this a personal matter.” Gilroy studied his pinkish nails. “If you want any help, I've a nice little outfit.”

     Duffy grinned. “I've gotta see this through myself.”

     “Sure, sure,” Gilroy nodded his head. “Still, you can't always beat the rap.”

     Getting to his feet, Duffy said, “I'll file that offer away. I might have to use it.”

     He moved to the door, then looked over his shoulder. “It's on the street now?”

     Gilroy nodded. “Yeah, the heat's on good.”

     A hard little smile came to Duffy's lips. “I ain't starting anything just yet,” he said. “I'll be back some time.”