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Authors: Dashiell Hammett
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you?”
“Not just yet.”
“That’s fine,” he assured me.
I went out for breakfast-and-lunch. Then I treated myself to a shave and hair-cut, sent a telegram to the Agency asking to have Dick Foley and Mickey Linehan shipped to Personville, stopped in my room for a change of clothes, and set out for my client’s house.
Old Elihu was wrapped in blankets in an armchair at a sunny window. He gave me a stubby hand and thanked me for catching his son’s murderer.
I made some more or less appropriate reply. I didn’t ask him how he had got the news.
“The check I gave you last night,” he said, “is only fair pay for the work you have done.”
“Your son’s check more than covered that.”
“Then call mine a bonus.”
“The Continental’s got rules against taking bonuses or rewards,” I said.
His face began to redden.
“Well, damn it—”
“You haven’t forgotten that your check was to cover the cost of investigating crime and corruption in Personville, have you?” I asked.
“That was nonsense,” he snorted. “We were excited last night. That’s called off.”
“Not with me.”
He threw a lot of profanity around. Then:
“It’s my money and I won’t have it wasted on a lot of damn-foolery. If you won’t take it for what you’ve done, give it back to me.”
“Stop yelling at me,” I said. “I’ll give you nothing except a good job of city-cleaning. That’s what you bargained for, and that’s what you’re going to get. You know now that your son was killed by young Albury, and not by your playmates. They know now that Thaler wasn’t helping you double-cross them. With your son dead, you’ve been able to promise them that the newspapers won’t dig up any more dirt. All’s lovely and peaceful again.
“I told you I expected something like that. That’s why I sewed you up. And you are sewed up. The check has been certified, so you can’t stop payment. The letter of authority may not be as good as a contract, but you’ll have to go into court to prove that it isn’t. If you want that much of that kind of publicity, go ahead. I’ll see that you get plenty.
“Your fat chief of police tried to assassinate me last night. I don’t like that. I’m just mean enough to want to ruin him for it. Now I’m going to have my fun. I’ve got ten thousand dollars of your money to play with. I’m going to use it opening Poisonville up from Adam’s apple to ankles. I’ll see that you get my reports as regularly as possible. I hope you enjoy them.”
And I went out of the house with his curses sizzling around my head.
8
A TIP ON KID COOPER
I spent most of the afternoon writing my three days’ reports on the Donald Willsson operation. Then I sat around, burned Fatimas, and thought about the Elihu Willsson operation until dinner time.
I went down to the hotel dining room and had just decided in favor of pounded rump steak with mushrooms when I heard myself being paged.
The boy took me to one of the lobby booths. Dinah Brand’s lazy voice came out of the receiver:
“Max wants to see you. Can you drop in tonight?”
“Your place?”
“Yes.”
I promised to drop in and returned to the dining room and my meal. When I had finished eating I went up to my room, fifth floor front. I unlocked the door and went in, snapping on the light.
A bullet kissed a hole in the door-frame close to my noodle.
More bullets made more holes in door, door-frame and wall,but by that time I had carried my noodle into a safe corner, one out of line with the window.
Across the street, I knew, was a four-story office building with a roof a little above the level of my window. The roof would be dark. My light was on. There was no percentage in trying to peep out under those conditions.
I looked around for something to chuck at the light globe, found a Gideon Bible, and chucked it. The bulb popped apart, giving me darkness.
The shooting had stopped.
I crept to the window, kneeling with an eye to
“Not just yet.”
“That’s fine,” he assured me.
I went out for breakfast-and-lunch. Then I treated myself to a shave and hair-cut, sent a telegram to the Agency asking to have Dick Foley and Mickey Linehan shipped to Personville, stopped in my room for a change of clothes, and set out for my client’s house.
Old Elihu was wrapped in blankets in an armchair at a sunny window. He gave me a stubby hand and thanked me for catching his son’s murderer.
I made some more or less appropriate reply. I didn’t ask him how he had got the news.
“The check I gave you last night,” he said, “is only fair pay for the work you have done.”
“Your son’s check more than covered that.”
“Then call mine a bonus.”
“The Continental’s got rules against taking bonuses or rewards,” I said.
His face began to redden.
“Well, damn it—”
“You haven’t forgotten that your check was to cover the cost of investigating crime and corruption in Personville, have you?” I asked.
“That was nonsense,” he snorted. “We were excited last night. That’s called off.”
“Not with me.”
He threw a lot of profanity around. Then:
“It’s my money and I won’t have it wasted on a lot of damn-foolery. If you won’t take it for what you’ve done, give it back to me.”
“Stop yelling at me,” I said. “I’ll give you nothing except a good job of city-cleaning. That’s what you bargained for, and that’s what you’re going to get. You know now that your son was killed by young Albury, and not by your playmates. They know now that Thaler wasn’t helping you double-cross them. With your son dead, you’ve been able to promise them that the newspapers won’t dig up any more dirt. All’s lovely and peaceful again.
“I told you I expected something like that. That’s why I sewed you up. And you are sewed up. The check has been certified, so you can’t stop payment. The letter of authority may not be as good as a contract, but you’ll have to go into court to prove that it isn’t. If you want that much of that kind of publicity, go ahead. I’ll see that you get plenty.
“Your fat chief of police tried to assassinate me last night. I don’t like that. I’m just mean enough to want to ruin him for it. Now I’m going to have my fun. I’ve got ten thousand dollars of your money to play with. I’m going to use it opening Poisonville up from Adam’s apple to ankles. I’ll see that you get my reports as regularly as possible. I hope you enjoy them.”
And I went out of the house with his curses sizzling around my head.
8
A TIP ON KID COOPER
I spent most of the afternoon writing my three days’ reports on the Donald Willsson operation. Then I sat around, burned Fatimas, and thought about the Elihu Willsson operation until dinner time.
I went down to the hotel dining room and had just decided in favor of pounded rump steak with mushrooms when I heard myself being paged.
The boy took me to one of the lobby booths. Dinah Brand’s lazy voice came out of the receiver:
“Max wants to see you. Can you drop in tonight?”
“Your place?”
“Yes.”
I promised to drop in and returned to the dining room and my meal. When I had finished eating I went up to my room, fifth floor front. I unlocked the door and went in, snapping on the light.
A bullet kissed a hole in the door-frame close to my noodle.
More bullets made more holes in door, door-frame and wall,but by that time I had carried my noodle into a safe corner, one out of line with the window.
Across the street, I knew, was a four-story office building with a roof a little above the level of my window. The roof would be dark. My light was on. There was no percentage in trying to peep out under those conditions.
I looked around for something to chuck at the light globe, found a Gideon Bible, and chucked it. The bulb popped apart, giving me darkness.
The shooting had stopped.
I crept to the window, kneeling with an eye to
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