Hit and Run

I was immediately aware that he didn't limp and he was walking as he always walked, and yet a few days back he had fallen down the Plaza Grill steps and had broken his leg.

The whole situation took on a nightmare aspect. It was Aitken, and yet it wasn't Aitken. This tight-set face with glittering eyes made me feel here was another man inside Aitken's skin: a man I didn't know and a man who scared me. Then the familiar voice said: 'I seem to have given you a fright, Scott.'

It was Aitken all right. That voice and that smile could belong to no one else.

'Yes.' My voice was husky and unsteady. 'You certainly did. Your leg seems to have made a pretty good recovery.'

'There was never anything the matter with it,' he said and paused near me, looking down at me, his glittering eyes moving over my face. 'It was something I arranged so you and my wife could get acquainted.'

My mouth was now so dry I couldn't say anything. I just lay and stared up at him. He looked around, then moved over to a lounging chair and sat down.

'Quite a nice place you have here, Scott,' he said. 'A little lonely but convenient. Do you make a habit of fooling around with other men's wives?'

'I didn't last long and I didn't touch her,' I said. 'I'm sorry. I could explain better if I had my hands free. There's a lot to explain.'

I was wondering about Lucille.

Had she managed to get free? Was she still in the bungalow? If she was still tied up on the bed, then Aitken must know it as he had come out of my bedroom.

Aitken took out his gold cigarette case. He lit a cigarette.

'I think I'll leave you as you are,' he said. 'Anyway, for the time being.'

Then a thought came into my mind: a crazy thought: a thought that made me stiffen and lift my head and stare at him. This was the man Lew had said was coming to talk to me. This man I knew as Roger Aitken was known by Lew and his pal as Art Galgano: a crazy thought, but the facts pointed to it.

'The nickel's dropped?' Aitken said, watching me. 'Yes, you're right. I am Galgano.'

I lay there, staring at him, shocked into silence.

He crossed one leg over the other.

'You don't imagine I can live in the style in which I live from what I get out of the International, do you, Scott? Three years ago I had a chance of buying the Little Tavern, and I bought it. This is a rich town. It is full of rich degenerates with nothing to do but to chase one another's wives and drink whisky. I knew it was a crowd that would gamble if given the opportunity. I gave it the opportunity. For three years that wheel at the Little Tavern has been spinning and has been making me a fortune. The law against gambling is strict. A lot of people have tried to run a wheel and they have been shut down. I was more fortunate. This man Harry O'Brien was in charge of the roads leading to the Little Tavern. It was his job to report any suspicious gathering of people who might be gamblers. He was the eyes and ears of the Police Commissioner. I made it worth his while to be deaf and dumb, but I knew sooner or later he would get greedy, and he did. The profits from the wheel, instead of coming to me, began to go to him. He bled me white. As a blackmailer he was in a class of his own. After six or seven months, I found I was making less money than I had made before I bought the Little Tavern. His demands became so pressing, I was forced to use some of the International's profits to satisfy him. That was a situation that had to stop.'

The clock on the overmantel suddenly began to strike four o'clock. The afternoon's sun beat against the sun-blinds. The whisper of the sea somehow had a sinister sound.

I lay there, listening, looking at this man who was my boss and who I had thought the tops in the advertising game. He still looked impressive, with his big frame, his well-fitting clothes and his massive, whisky-red face, but he wasn't impressive to me any more.

He reached out and stubbed out his cigarette, lit another and smiled at me.

'There is only one way to stop a blackmailer when he is in O'Brien's class and that's to kill him.' The glittering eyes met mine and the thin lips tightened. 'Murdering a policeman is dangerous, Scott. It is a challenge to the police force and they take extra trouble in tracking down the killer. I laid my plans. As in everything I do, I took the broad view of the situation. If I were to kill a man, I would make a complete job of it, I decided. I badly needed money. I had taken fifteen thousand dollars from the International and I knew I couldn't hide that up for long. I owed money everywhere. It would take me several weeks to recoup from the wheel once I had got rid of O'Brien, and the chances were that his successor would find out what was going on at the nightclub and I would be closed down. So I had to have money quickly. It was then I thought of you. I had heard you had some money. Everything fell into place once I decided to make use of you, Scott. So I prepared the bait of the New York office and you fell for it.'