Read Online Murder Me for Nickels by Peter Rabe - Free Book Online Page A

and nodded her head.
    “And I’ve got a session arranged, you know what a session is—?”
    “You’re a talent scout and I’m just the thing you’ve been looking for, and if I’d let you handle me….”
    “I don’t want to handle you!”
    “You don’t?”
    “Sweetsufferingsuffering, all I want is just for you to open up there, open up that gate wide so I can move, push I mean, that mixer….”
    “Well,” she said. “What now?”
    There was this panel truck. It went by the entrance, it stopped with the tailgate still showing, it went in reverse and backed around into the loading space and up to the ramp.
    “Eight o’clock,” she said. “We’ve got nothing to go out at eight this morning.”
    The canvas flaps opened in back and one, two, three, lump-muscled apes jumped out. Then two more from the cab, all lump-muscled and goonish.
    My own army counted five, but this wasn’t it. This was the enemy.
    “Good morning,” said the girl from Hough and Daly. “I was just saying, we have nothing for you this morning.”
    “It isn’t feeding time yet,” would have made much more sense. The three who had come over the tail gate went straight for the door where the girl was standing, but the bald ape who had come out of the cab yelled at them that they had the wrong door. “This way, idiots,” he yelled. “This way.”
    They all ran to the Benotti door and found that it was closed.
    “Nuts,” said one of them. “They been and gone.”
    “Idiot,” said the bald ape, “would they lock the door after theirselves?”
    This had all taken a minute or two and I kept looking out to the street where my own natives were supposed to show up. They were supposed to show up there and wait for my signal.
    Right then they might have showed up and I would never have known it. All the five apes, confused and left high and dry by the puzzle of that locked door, turned my way and brightened. This would be much simpler. This is one and we are five; something like that showed on their faces.
    I had an impulse to jump past the girl and slam the door shut behind me, but then they might bust down the door, and then I would have to explain to the girl and how would it look to her—any number of giddy reasons came to me and while none of them were any good I did the right thing, or the thing I had come for. I walked up to the mixer, leaned my hand on the top, and I even drummed up and down with one finger. That was as brave as I could get for the moment, that thing with the finger.
    “Get your hands offn that!” said the bald ape.
    “Yeah!” said one of the others.
    “Watch it,” I told them. “This thing stays intact.”
    “What he say?”
    “Idiot. He means it don’t get destructed.” They all stopped except for the bald ape. He came up to me, looked at the mixer, at my hand, at my face. “We got instructions,” he said. “Get your hands offn that because nothing around here gets destructed. We’re here to see to that.”
    I took my hand off and held it out to him. “Man,” I told him. “Am I glad you came.”
    He said, “Huh?” and didn’t take my hand, which was just as well, and then he didn’t know what else to say.
    It must have been about five after eight. I was now worried my army would show.
    “They’ve come and gone,” I said, “and am I glad you showed.”
    “Come and gone?”
    “Those goons. You know. They wanted to destructed everything here.”
    “Destroyed, you mean.” Then he folded his arms and looked me up and down. “Who are you?”
    “Benotti sent me. It almost didn’t work, because here they were and you weren’t here, and the reason he sent me was to let you know that this thing here, this mixer, this thing in particular should come to no harm.”
    “Oh yeah?” said one of them.
    The bald ape turned a little and said, “Quiet, idiot.” Then he turned back to me. “How come they come and went and nothing’s busted?”
    That’s when I saw one of my own stick his head