Read Online The Golden Gizmo by Jim Thompson - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jim Thompson
Tags: Fiction, General, Humorous stories, Humorous, Mystery & Detective, Women Sleuths, Crime, Juvenile Fiction, Hard-Boiled, Swindlers and Swindling, Adventure stories, Los Angeles (Calif.), Los Angeles (Calif.) - Fiction, Gold smuggling - Fiction, Gold smuggling, Swindlers and swindling - Fiction
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blond beard. Or so it seemed. Then, he raised his head, bewilderedly, and Toddy saw that the hair spread out on the pillow beneath him was a woman's.
"F-for gosh sake!" the man gasped indignantly. "What kind of a whorehouse is-"
Toddy's hand shot out. He caught the guy by the back of the head and jerked it between the bed rails.
The man grunted. The platinum hair stirred frantically on the pillow to an accompaniment of smothered groans. Toddy gave the bed a push. It slid forward a few inches, and he entered the room.
He stepped out the window, and stared down the fire escape. He took two steps, a third. The fourth was into space. Except for his grip on the handrail, he would have plunged into the alley.
He drew himself back, stood hugging the metal breathlessly… Should have expected this, he thought. Building's probably been condemned for years. Now… He looked upward. No telling what was up there, but it was the only way to go.
All hell was breaking loose as he started up again. Doors were slamming, women screaming, men cursing. There was the thunder of overturning furniture-of heavy objects swung wickedly. And with it all, of course, the fearsome threatening snarl of the talking dog.
Suddenly, arms shot out of the window and clutched at Toddy's feet. He kicked blindly and heard a yell of pain. He raced up the remaining steps to the roof.
Stepping over the parapet, his hand dislodged a brick, and he flung it downward, heard it shatter on the steel landing. He pushed mightily with his foot, and a whole section of the wall went tumbling down. That, he thought, would give them something to think about.
Slowly, picking his way in the darkness, he started across the roof. There was no way out on either of the side streets he had been on. That meant he'd have to try for something on the parallel thoroughfare-up at this end, naturally, as far as he could get from the burly house.
He bumped painfully into a chimney, stumbled over an abandoned tar pot. He paused to flex his agonized toes and shake the sweat from his eyes. Unknotting his tie, he stuffed it into the pocket of his coat and swung the coat over his arm.
He was almost to the street now, and the majority of the buildings should be occupied. At any moment, he should be coming to a roof-trap or a skylight where- Ooof!
Glass shattered under his feet; there was a flash of light. He tried to throw himself backward and knew sickeningly that it was too late. He shot downward.
With a groaning wirish whree something caught his body in a sagging embrace. It hugged, then shoved him away. Upward. He landed on his side, unhurt but badly shaken. He opened his eyes cautiously.
He was lying on the floor beside a metal cot-a cot which, obviously, would never be slept in again. Down this side of the room and along the other were rows of other cots. At one end of the room, easily identifiable despite the half-partitions around them, were shower stalls and a line of toilets.
A flophouse, Toddy thought. Then he noticed the multitudinous chromos on the walls-GOD IS LOVE… JESUS SAVES… THE LORD IS MY SHEPHERD… and he amended the opinion. A mission flophouse. Heb. 13:8.
He got up and brushed the glass from his clothes. Picking up his coat, he crossed to the other side of the room and looked out a window. The stale air and the almost complete absence of light told him what he could not see. An air shaft. He'd have to go out through the door at the end of the room, and, if he knew his missions, there'd be plenty of people to pass.
Pondering drearily, desperately, a hope born of utter hopelessness entered and teased at his mind. Maybe Chinless hadn't got to Elaine. Maybe he didn't want to get Toddy. He might not have missed the watch. He might- uh-just want to talk to him.
Oh, hell. Why kid himself? Still, the idea wasn't completely crazy, was it? Elaine's murder had taken careful timing, a complete disregard for danger on the part of the murderer. Anyone as ruthless and
"F-for gosh sake!" the man gasped indignantly. "What kind of a whorehouse is-"
Toddy's hand shot out. He caught the guy by the back of the head and jerked it between the bed rails.
The man grunted. The platinum hair stirred frantically on the pillow to an accompaniment of smothered groans. Toddy gave the bed a push. It slid forward a few inches, and he entered the room.
He stepped out the window, and stared down the fire escape. He took two steps, a third. The fourth was into space. Except for his grip on the handrail, he would have plunged into the alley.
He drew himself back, stood hugging the metal breathlessly… Should have expected this, he thought. Building's probably been condemned for years. Now… He looked upward. No telling what was up there, but it was the only way to go.
All hell was breaking loose as he started up again. Doors were slamming, women screaming, men cursing. There was the thunder of overturning furniture-of heavy objects swung wickedly. And with it all, of course, the fearsome threatening snarl of the talking dog.
Suddenly, arms shot out of the window and clutched at Toddy's feet. He kicked blindly and heard a yell of pain. He raced up the remaining steps to the roof.
Stepping over the parapet, his hand dislodged a brick, and he flung it downward, heard it shatter on the steel landing. He pushed mightily with his foot, and a whole section of the wall went tumbling down. That, he thought, would give them something to think about.
Slowly, picking his way in the darkness, he started across the roof. There was no way out on either of the side streets he had been on. That meant he'd have to try for something on the parallel thoroughfare-up at this end, naturally, as far as he could get from the burly house.
He bumped painfully into a chimney, stumbled over an abandoned tar pot. He paused to flex his agonized toes and shake the sweat from his eyes. Unknotting his tie, he stuffed it into the pocket of his coat and swung the coat over his arm.
He was almost to the street now, and the majority of the buildings should be occupied. At any moment, he should be coming to a roof-trap or a skylight where- Ooof!
Glass shattered under his feet; there was a flash of light. He tried to throw himself backward and knew sickeningly that it was too late. He shot downward.
With a groaning wirish whree something caught his body in a sagging embrace. It hugged, then shoved him away. Upward. He landed on his side, unhurt but badly shaken. He opened his eyes cautiously.
He was lying on the floor beside a metal cot-a cot which, obviously, would never be slept in again. Down this side of the room and along the other were rows of other cots. At one end of the room, easily identifiable despite the half-partitions around them, were shower stalls and a line of toilets.
A flophouse, Toddy thought. Then he noticed the multitudinous chromos on the walls-GOD IS LOVE… JESUS SAVES… THE LORD IS MY SHEPHERD… and he amended the opinion. A mission flophouse. Heb. 13:8.
He got up and brushed the glass from his clothes. Picking up his coat, he crossed to the other side of the room and looked out a window. The stale air and the almost complete absence of light told him what he could not see. An air shaft. He'd have to go out through the door at the end of the room, and, if he knew his missions, there'd be plenty of people to pass.
Pondering drearily, desperately, a hope born of utter hopelessness entered and teased at his mind. Maybe Chinless hadn't got to Elaine. Maybe he didn't want to get Toddy. He might not have missed the watch. He might- uh-just want to talk to him.
Oh, hell. Why kid himself? Still, the idea wasn't completely crazy, was it? Elaine's murder had taken careful timing, a complete disregard for danger on the part of the murderer. Anyone as ruthless and
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