The Mike Hammer Collection

“Killed? No . . . nobody would kill Dad . . . not my dad.” I didn’t say a word after that. I let it sink in and watched his face contort with the pain of the thought until I began to hurt in the chest myself.

For maybe ten minutes we sat like that, quietly, before the kid dried his eyes. He seemed older now. A thing like that will age anyone. His hand went to my arm. I patted his shoulder.

“Mike?”

“Yes, Ruston?”

“Do you think you can find the one who did it?”

“I’m going to try, kid.”

His lips tightened fiercely. “I want you to. I wish I were big enough to. I’d shoot him, that’s what I’d do!” He broke into tears again after that outburst. “Oh . . . Mike.”

“You lay there, kid. Get a little rest, then when you feel better get dressed and come downstairs and we’ll have a little talk. Think of something, only don’t think of . . . that. It takes time to get over these things, but you will. Right now it hurts worse than anything in the world, but time will fix it up. You’re tough, Ruston. After last night I’d say that you were the toughest kid that ever lived. Be tough now and don’t cry anymore. Okay?”

“I’ll try, Mike, honest, I’ll try.”

He rolled over in the bed and buried his face in the pillow. I unlocked his door to the hall and went out. I had to stick around now whether I wanted to or not. I promised the kid. And it was a promise I meant to keep.

Once before I made a promise, and I kept it. It killed my soul, but I kept it. I thought of all the blood that had run in the war, all that I had seen and had dripped on me, but none was redder or more repulsive than that blood I had seen when I kept my last promise.

CHAPTER 5

Their faces were those that stare at you from the walls of a museum: severe, hostile, expectant. They stood in various attitudes waiting to see what apology I had to offer for dragging them from their beds at this early hour.

Arthur Graham awkwardly sipped a glass of orange juice between swollen lips. His brother puffed nervously at a cigarette. The Ghents sat as one family in the far corner, Martha trying to be aloof as was Junior. Rhoda and her father felt conspicuous in their hurried dressing and fidgeted on the edge of their chairs.

Alice Nichols was . . . Alice. When I came into the living room she threw an eyeful of passion at me and said under her breath, “’Lo, lover.” It was too early for that stuff. I let the bags under my eyes tell her so. Roxy, sporting a worried frown, stopped me to say that there would be coffee ready in a few minutes. Good. They were going to need it.

I threw the ball from the scrimmage line before the opposition could break through with any bright remarks. “Rudolph York is dead. Somebody parted his hair with a cleaver up in Miss Grange’s apartment.”

I waited.

Martha gasped. Her husband’s eyes nearly popped out. Junior and Rhoda looked at each other. Arthur choked on his orange juice and William dropped his cigarette. Behind me Alice said, “Tsk, tsk.”

The silence was like an explosion, but before the echo died away Martha Ghent recovered enough to say coldly, “And where was Miss Grange?”

I shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine.” I laid it on the table then. “It’s quite possible that she had nothing to do with it. Could be that someone here did the slaughtering. Before long the police are going to pay us a little visit. It’s kind of late to start fixing up an alibi, but if you haven’t any, you’d better think of one, fast.”

While they swallowed that I turned on my heel and went out to the kitchen. Roxy had the coffee on a tray and I lifted a cup and carried it into Billy’s room. He woke up as soon as I turned the knob.

“Hi, Mike.” He looked at the clock. “What’re you doing up?”

“I haven’t been to bed yet. York’s dead.”

“What!”

“Last night. Got it with a cleaver.”

“Good night! What happens now?”

“The usual routine for a while, I guess. Listen, were you in the sack all this time?”

“Hell, yes. Wait a minute, Mike, you . . .”

“Can you prove it? I mean did anyone see you there?”

“No. I’ve been alone. You don’t think . . .”

“Quit worrying, Billy. Dilwick will be on this case and he’s liable to have it in for you. That skunk will get back at you if he can’t at me. He’s got what little law there is in this town on his side now. What I want to do is establish some way you can prove you were here. Think of any?”

He put his finger to his mouth. “Yeah, I might at that. Twice last night I thought I heard a car go out.”

“That’d be York then me.”

“Right after the first car, someone came downstairs. I heard ’em inside, then there was some funny sound like somebody coughing real softly, then it died out. I couldn’t figure out what it was.”

“That might do it if we can find out who came down. Just forget all about it until you’re asked, understand?”

“Sure, Mike. Geez, why did this have to happen? I’ll be out on my ear now.” His head dropped into his hands. “What’ll I do?”