Black Cat Weekly #5

MR. BIG NOSE, by Martin Suto-3

She lifted an arm, the deep blue eyes wide with alarm. The wide, red troublemaking lips opened wide to scream. He shoved her between two parked cars before her voice cut the atmosphere, before other pedestrians were even aware of what he had done. She flopped between the cars onto the street and in the path of a quick-moving car. Before bedlam broke loose he was lost in the crowd. He went down an escalator into a department store. His fingers twitched with fright but he didn’t lose time. Before he found an exit he saw himself in a mirror near a cosmetics counter and in the middle of countless milling women. Only his hat and suit were ordinary. His face was paper white, sharp as a knife, the nose long and thin and accentuating the gaunt cheeks. His stomach curled at the reflection and he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket to break the image.

Blocks away from the store he saw what he wanted and drove away. It was a neat, late model black sedan. His gorge rose at the woman. She had got what she deserved. But it was cutting it too thin. Mort was right. He should have waited until dark. But the urge in him to get to Legget was stronger than any sane judgment. If they got him now he’d be lucky if they put him back in his old cell. For he had seen the expression on the woman’s face when the car had struck. He stepped on the gas as if to put distance between him and the image. He didn’t have too far to go but it might be wise to ditch the car before he came close to Providence. If he could hide out one night in Jimmy Sills place he had a very good chance of seeing Legget.

He stayed away from the main road as much as possible. When it got dark he cruised along at a fair speed, keeping his eye on the traffic. When he hit the turnpike he could decide whether to ditch the car or take his chances. If he kept on and his luck held he’d make the outskirts of Providence by eight o’clock. It would be a cinch to surprise Jimmy Sills—if he was still in business. His confidence bloomed. He snapped on the radio. A bulletin on himself interrupted the flow of dinner music. He hung limply over the wheel. He could count on a road block every twenty-five to fifty miles. At the first exit he turned into a back road. He was lucky he knew this neck of the woods. But he knew he might have to ditch the car. He cursed the woman who had recognized him.

It was after midnight when Jimmy Sills answered the knock on his door. “It’s Norman,” he said, backing to one side and closing the door. He didn’t seem surprised. Only the suave thin moustache twitched. That was a habit with Jimmy. The last time Norman had seen him he was working the department stores. He always had a good wardrobe and a perfectly convincing manner.

Norman looked into the living-room expecting to see somebody but Jimmy was alone. Jimmy was in his bathrobe, a quality item by the looks of it. He had a brandy glass in Norman’s hand before Norman sat down.

Jimmy flicked off the console television and snapped on another floor lamp. The pale blue pastel walls flared into brightness. Jimmy sat on a footstool and sipped his drink waiting for Norman to talk. As Norman talked he seemed to communicate his fears and tension to Jimmy Sills whose dark eyes began to flicker back and forth uneasily.

Norman sat up abruptly. “I’m hot, Jimmy. Hot.”

Jimmy poured more brandy. He stood up. He walked into the tiny kitchen. Norman heard the freezer door open and shut softly. He was closer to his goal than ever but he wanted to smash things, ease the tautness of his nerves. Suddenly he was famished. He went into the kitchenette expecting to see food on the table. Instead he saw Jimmy’s hand an inch away from the telephone that hung from the wall nearest the window. There was a quick grin on Jimmy’s slick dark face.

“There’s ham, bread. Help yourself,” he said glibly, too quickly. “How ’bout another drink, Norman. Calm your nerves.”

Norman screamed, choked over his words. Jimmy Sills retreated, sweat beads suddenly lining his face.

“You rotten yellow stoolie!” Norman screamed. Jimmy rushed him suddenly before he could slip the knife out of his pocket. Jimmy’s rush bowled him back against the cabinets lining the wall. As he whirled his eye caught a heavy ship’s wheel ashtray on the portable waiter.

Jimmy had him by the throat now. He was panting, “You got this thing all wrong, Norman!” But he was squeezing Norman’s throat harder and harder until Norman brought the ashtray down on his head. Jimmy relaxed his hold a bit and Norman hit him again. He was staggering back against the table when Norman smashed him again below the ear.

Cursing through his teeth Norman went through Jimmy Sill’s pockets. In his dressing gown he found only cigarettes. In his pants pockets some small change. In his bedroom he found his suit clothes. In a leather wallet he found a wad of bills, and in a dresser a small black pistol. When he went back to the kitchenette Jimmy was stirring and shaking his head. Norman kicked him in the stomach.

“The boys’ll hear about this,” he said. He took the knife out of his pocket again, weighed it, put it back. He wasn’t sure after all if Jimmy had ratted on him. It could wait. He went out quietly, down the rear exit stairs.

The smell of the sea came in a faint wave to Norman’s nostrils. He had waited until night to enter the house from the terraced windows. A heady atmosphere enveloped him until, for a moment, he forgot who he was and why he had come. The room was long, panelled in dark wood, and obviously the library. He sat in a richly upholstered chair and glanced rigidly around him. Even in the gloom he was able to pick out the ghostly volumes on the shelves, the portable liquor cabinet, the lamps, drapes, all a wealthy man’s appurtenances.

He sucked in a little breath of envy, his fear laying heavily beneath it. He glanced at the luminous dial of the wristwatch he had ripped from the wrist of the salesman. The raw struggle to get where he was now hit him with sudden force and he sat sweating and twitching in the chair, lean blond head, thin shoulders in the rumpled blue suit, lean legs, all but obliterated in the gloom.

During the night he thought he heard a ringing and he jumped to his feet, the squat pistol in his hand. He sat down again with a sigh, his heart beating less rapidly. The ringing was in his mind. He fished around for an ashtray. Ventura came to his mind’s retina and he twitched painfully in the stillness. Ventura was rasping, “A guy named Legget owes me a favor.”

Rubber-legged, he stretched out his legs. He thought of Jimmy Sills and grinned with tight lips. After leaving Jimmy he had been forced to spend a day and a night cooped up on the third floor of a condemned house. That had been a hell-hole with rats running over his hands and neck, and the smell of garbage from the torn up kitchen. And more than anything else was the height. The rain coming in through the smashed windows hadn’t helped either. Maybe it was that or everything put together that had driven him half-crazy. Once again he saw himself slipping from one empty room to the other, suddenly ducking behind a door as somebody stepped into the desolate corridor. Whoever he was he had no business there, poking around with a flashlight. He remembered with a chill the faceless, shadowy bulk of the man unconsciously stalking him from one room to the other. And finally the startled grunt as the flashlight beam struck him accidently across the face. Norman had barely time to dodge, sidestep, the man’s bull-like rush towards him. He had gone over the windowsill like a stone, hadn’t even screamed before the sound of a sickening thud told the story. He had been ready to leave the abandoned house about that time anyway. Somebody was bound to spot a vagrant and report him even in that neighborhood.

Somehow he hadn’t been surprised at first sight of the Legget estate. He had been in such places before but not as a guest. He wondered for the first time what Ventura had done to make this man grateful. Whatever it was it was more important now to find out whether Ventura was right about him or not. He wished he knew the odds.

A slight breeze from the garden swept serenely into the room. Expectantly, he half-turned toward the door as a tiny sound, a vibration, infringing on the area of his conscious mind made him stand. The door opened quietly and admitted a shadow of substantial proportions.

“No lights,” said Norman. He let the air out of his lungs slowly, alert for sound rather than sight.

“Hello. You’re here.” The man’s voice was smooth, well-modulated. Norman heard his own voice plop hoarsely in the atmosphere like a spent bullet.

“I made it,” he said, trembling. “Ventura thought I might.”

“I am surprised,” said the voice, rasping a bit at the edges now.

Norman griped the gun tighter, suddenly terrified. How was he to know when this man decided to go back on his word? The voice said, as if to calm his fears, “I intend to leave here in approximately thirty minutes. My launch is ready and we pull up anchor as soon as we get aboard. Any discovery from then on in is your affair.”

Norman straightened with eager relief. The sheer joy of it made the blood leap through him. Freedom! His brain sang.

“Whatever you say,” he managed.

“There’s food in the servant’s wing,” said his unseen host, “You can change your gear when you get aboard.” He added, “You don’t have to worry about bumping into anyone.”

“You don’t like to do this,” said Norman suddenly.

“No, I don’t,” said the voice, matter of factly, “But I don’t care to discuss it.”

“My friends never ask for small favors,” said Norman.

“Your friend was never anything but a fool but I understand perfectly.”

You better, thought Norman, but his gun wavered and shook a trifle. Some men would do anything to repay a debt. He guessed this Neil Legget was that type. He wondered where Ventura had met him. For a second curiosity stirred in his mind again. Questions trembled on his lips, then died. What did it matter? His thoughts leaped ahead, and in his mind’s eye he saw the sea stretching out to every horizon. He even told himself at that moment that he loved the sea. Ordinarily, he couldn’t stand the water. He used to get seasick on the ferry, and he had never learned to swim.

Legget was saying in a thicker voice, “Okay. We’ll get started soon as we can then.” His voice faded. There was the sound of a door again and he was gone. Norman waved the gun viciously in the gloom. He didn’t trust the man, he didn’t trust anybody. He hadn’t come this far to make a fool mistake. If Legget wasn’t on the level, he’d find it out soon enough.

He fumbled for the liquor cabinet and found a bottle. It was beautiful brandy, like velvet. This Legget seemed to have everything. He was taking another swig when there was a click at the door and the strategically placed lighting fixtures flared on. In an incredibly fast movement he was at the door with the gun in his fist. He saw the woman at the same instant she spoke. “Come along,” she said, crooking a finger at him. A diamond sparkled from her finger.

Norman gripped her shoulder, feeling the soft flesh, smelling the heady perfume that came in soft waves from her skin. She was a slim blonde in gold slacks and sweater that strained at her breasts. Her skin was pure white, her eyes green. Her nose was delicately formed. Only her lips were thickish, overly lipsticked, sensuous.

His breath came sharply, nevertheless he flung her away.

“Who are you?” he said savagely. No woman was going to spoil his chance of getting away. A man loomed up suddenly behind her. He was big around the shoulders with grizzled hair clipped short. His face was tanned and lined by the sea and the sun. It was Legget. His voice was furious.

“I told you to stay in the car!”

The girl shrugged, and pouted. “I’m tired of waiting.” She walked over to the liquor cabinet and poured a drink. Norman’s heart hammered. He stepped back to keep her in view.

He glared at Legget.

“What’s this all about?”

Legget shrugged. His short laugh was light, pleasant.

“Just a family quarrel,” he said. “Let’s go.”

Norman brought the gun up. He didn’t like Legget now and he didn’t think he’d ever get to like him. He didn’t like the way he smiled or the half-stony way his eyes noted things. Maybe he’d be better off if he forgot Legget, Ventura, the payoff, everything. Even Jimmy Sills had tried to turn him over. And how did he know that Mort Kane hadn’t gone out to put the finger on him? His suspicions made his head whirl.

“You’d better put that away,” said Legget impatiently. The girl was surveying him with a glass in one hand and the other nail-lacquered hand on hip. With half an eye he could see she was dangerous.

“I’m Myra,” she said with a tease in her voice.

“And I just love sea voyages. Do you?”

Sugar wouldn’t melt in her mouth, he thought.

“Put it away!” repeated Legget sharply, staring at the gun in Norman’s hand. He held out his hand. It was as steady as a rock. The blood rushed to Norman’s head. He put the gun in his pocket.

“I’m ready,” he said, staring Legget in the eye.

Legget shrugged and walked angrily out. Norman eyed the girl. She sauntered casually past. He sneered. Her fingers snaked up to the wall switch and flicked it off. For a moment she was close to him in the semi-darkness of the foyer in the huge livingroom. His pulse leaped. He gave her a light shove. “Move!” he muttered.

She staggered, kept moving. She whirled away.

“Now, Neil!” she screamed.

Norman made a desperate lunge sideways but he was too late to catch Legget in his sight. He felt rather than heard the fluid blasts from the gun in Legget’s hand. For a moment he didn’t realize he was face down in the thick carpet. When he did he flopped over on his back, arching his legs up to ease the pain. It was then that he was aware of Legget bending over him as if to study the shape of his nose. This time he wasn’t even remotely insulted.

He heard Legget say, “Imagine that ape Ventura sending out one of his pals to see me! Well, whatever he knows it won’t do him any good now.”

Norman coughed through the searing shadows in his chest. It was a peculiar thing how he wanted to laugh at Ventura now. Even Legget and the girl. But suddenly fear of the sea swept over him.