Murder — Paid in Advance

Quinn nodded numbly. He looked at Cindy, who had pulled herself up from the floor and was straightening her blonde hair before the mirror.

Norman said, “You and Cindy. You planned it. You fired the club and got away with my money.”

Breen laughed sharply, remembering. “We got rid of Rudy Mackalvain, too, and his prying. All it cost me, Quinn, was a very expensive wrist watch. Mackalvain dies, everybody thinks it’s me, and Cindy and I are on our way with a fortune. Simple?”

He cut a glance at Cindy. “Now that he knows, we’ll take Quinn where it’s quieter — someplace where he can get lost — for good.”

Quinn Norman dragged in a deep breath. If they got him out of this apartment, out of this building where the sound of a small automatic might go unnoticed, he would emulate the proverbial snowball in hell.

As Cindy turned away from the end table, Quinn faded. He clutched at her.

Cindy screamed. Breen flipped the automatic smoothly in his fist and clubbed at Norman’s head. Quinn felt it rake a red, hot path across the back of his skull.

He kept moving. Clutching Cindy’s arm, he thrust her between them, shoved her against Breen and followed in fast. He closed his fingers on Breen’s gun arm.

Breen tried to wrench free. They reeled back, slammed against the wall.

There was a sharp, sudden pop, and the acrid gray gun smoke wreathed up between them. Quinn staggered back. The gun clattered to the floor from Breen’s hand, and rolled off the rug.

Cindy scooped it up. She moved fast, away from Quinn, covering him with the gun. He heard the loose, dull sound of Breen’s sliding down the wall to the floor.

“He’s dead,” Cindy said. “You’ve killed him, Quinn!” The words weren’t screamed, but they had that effect.

“Stand there,” Cindy said, her face contorted. “You’ve killed the only man I ever loved. I’m going to call the police. This time you’ll rot in jail forever!”

Quinn Norman looked at her empty, angry eyes. What did I ever see in her?

“Sure,” Quinn said, “call your cops, and explain how Breen got here. I killed him five years ago in Miami, remember? And I’ve already paid the bill. Sweetheart, this time you figure a way to get rid of the body!”

The last time he looked at Cindy, her eyes had lost all contact with reality. She stood staring down at Ansel Breen with a slow, hard shaking beginning to crawl over her...

By the time Quinn reached the silent street, he was feeling better. Free. Clean. Wonderful. He began to take long, rapid strides toward that apartment house and the open, bright door on the second landing. In his mind he could already hear Judy’s cheery call:

“Coffee, Quinn?”