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Authors: Donald Hamilton
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fine. We have it all on tape. It clears things up very well. Thank you very much for your cooperation, Miss Rockwell. You’re free to go now.”
She moved toward the door without glancing my way. I said, “Miss Rockwell.” She stopped without turning her head. I spoke to her back: “Miss Rockwell, I’m surprised at you. You’re just a lousy little blond fink. Next time I see somebody trying to shoot you, I’ll help them call the shots.”
“Now, now.” This was the dignified black gentleman. “Miss Rockwell was just following our instructions, Mr. Helm. You should be grateful to her. She’s cleared you very nicely, or helped you clear yourself.”
“Cleared me of what?” I asked. “Of saving her lousy little life? I can see how that ought to be illegal, but I didn’t know it was.”
“Mr. Helm, please!” It was the white man, the younger one. He turned to the girl. “Go on, Miss Rockwell. Don’t leave town or change hotels without letting us know, please.” When the little girl had fled, he turned back to me: “What Detective Inspector Crawford means is that there are always questions to be answered when a man is killed, even when he seems to have been something of a professional gunman....”
I let my eyes widen in a startled way. “My God! A professional? What the hell have I got myself into, anyway?”
He hesitated. “Well, we’re getting some very interesting information on the late Mr. Menshek. It’s big and international, Mr. Helm. For some reason, certain people seem almost as anxious to get rid of that little girl who just left as they were to dispose of Leon Trotsky. At least, they employed some very high-priced talent for the job. Mr. Menshek’s records seems to be long, gory, and spectacular. I have to tell you this, in case there should be repercussions.”
I grimaced. “Thanks a whole lot! What you’re trying to say is that I just managed to bash in the head of a high-class Commie hitman, or liquidator, or exterminator, or whatever the movie jargon is, and somebody may be real mad, is that it?”
He said carefully, “Well, it’s not really very likely, sir, but I thought you should be aware of the possibility.”
“It makes me feel warm all over,” I said sourly. “Or cold. And what about you and your friends with your eavesdropping gadgets, are you all mad, too?”
“Oh, no,” he said. “No, indeed, Mr. Helm. We are very happy. As far as we’re concerned, well, you’ve done us a service—we don’t like to have homicidal operations like that conducted under our noses, isn’t that right, Inspector? If a few more brave citizens like you were to rise up and dispose of a few more nasty types like Menshek, the world would be a better place for all of us. We just had to make certain that your actions were those of a genuinely disinterested and public-spirited bystander....”
It always works. I didn’t take all his protestations at face valus—even with my head cracked, I can spot irony when I hear it—but at least he’d indicated that we were all going to play nice, until further notice. You can generally get by with just about anything, even homicide, as long as you’re not too proud to make yourself look bad by confessing to a slightly discreditable action, like peeing in a public park.
After a while, they all went away, and I slept. Suddenly it was morning. My head was clear enough for me to take in the standard nurse-and-doctor routine. They run it just about the same with a predominantly black cast as with a predominantly white one. I got some breakfast that didn’t have much taste, or maybe it was my mouth that didn’t have much taste. Then the door opened, kind of sneakily, and the little blonde girl whose life I’d saved slipped through the crack. She was wearing a short, crisp, white dress, and her long hair had been brushed to within an inch of its blonde life. Obviously, she wanted to make a good impression on somebody this morning, presumably
She moved toward the door without glancing my way. I said, “Miss Rockwell.” She stopped without turning her head. I spoke to her back: “Miss Rockwell, I’m surprised at you. You’re just a lousy little blond fink. Next time I see somebody trying to shoot you, I’ll help them call the shots.”
“Now, now.” This was the dignified black gentleman. “Miss Rockwell was just following our instructions, Mr. Helm. You should be grateful to her. She’s cleared you very nicely, or helped you clear yourself.”
“Cleared me of what?” I asked. “Of saving her lousy little life? I can see how that ought to be illegal, but I didn’t know it was.”
“Mr. Helm, please!” It was the white man, the younger one. He turned to the girl. “Go on, Miss Rockwell. Don’t leave town or change hotels without letting us know, please.” When the little girl had fled, he turned back to me: “What Detective Inspector Crawford means is that there are always questions to be answered when a man is killed, even when he seems to have been something of a professional gunman....”
I let my eyes widen in a startled way. “My God! A professional? What the hell have I got myself into, anyway?”
He hesitated. “Well, we’re getting some very interesting information on the late Mr. Menshek. It’s big and international, Mr. Helm. For some reason, certain people seem almost as anxious to get rid of that little girl who just left as they were to dispose of Leon Trotsky. At least, they employed some very high-priced talent for the job. Mr. Menshek’s records seems to be long, gory, and spectacular. I have to tell you this, in case there should be repercussions.”
I grimaced. “Thanks a whole lot! What you’re trying to say is that I just managed to bash in the head of a high-class Commie hitman, or liquidator, or exterminator, or whatever the movie jargon is, and somebody may be real mad, is that it?”
He said carefully, “Well, it’s not really very likely, sir, but I thought you should be aware of the possibility.”
“It makes me feel warm all over,” I said sourly. “Or cold. And what about you and your friends with your eavesdropping gadgets, are you all mad, too?”
“Oh, no,” he said. “No, indeed, Mr. Helm. We are very happy. As far as we’re concerned, well, you’ve done us a service—we don’t like to have homicidal operations like that conducted under our noses, isn’t that right, Inspector? If a few more brave citizens like you were to rise up and dispose of a few more nasty types like Menshek, the world would be a better place for all of us. We just had to make certain that your actions were those of a genuinely disinterested and public-spirited bystander....”
It always works. I didn’t take all his protestations at face valus—even with my head cracked, I can spot irony when I hear it—but at least he’d indicated that we were all going to play nice, until further notice. You can generally get by with just about anything, even homicide, as long as you’re not too proud to make yourself look bad by confessing to a slightly discreditable action, like peeing in a public park.
After a while, they all went away, and I slept. Suddenly it was morning. My head was clear enough for me to take in the standard nurse-and-doctor routine. They run it just about the same with a predominantly black cast as with a predominantly white one. I got some breakfast that didn’t have much taste, or maybe it was my mouth that didn’t have much taste. Then the door opened, kind of sneakily, and the little blonde girl whose life I’d saved slipped through the crack. She was wearing a short, crisp, white dress, and her long hair had been brushed to within an inch of its blonde life. Obviously, she wanted to make a good impression on somebody this morning, presumably
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