return.
Ginger grabbed my arm. I followed her eyes back to the cars. Through the rain I saw Pug Banta coming towards us, his arms full of roses. Back of him were a couple of his boys. They came right through the mourners, bumping men and women out of their way. I felt Ginger tremble.
“Dear God!” she said.
Pug came up to the grave and dumped the roses on the other flowers. It was raining hard. He walked over to us, looking like some kind of a monkey with his long arms and short legs. His club foot made him limp.
“Come on,” he snarled at us. “You're going with me.”
We didn't move. His boys stood looking at us from the grave. Carmel's brother left the preacher by the cars and came towards us.
“Come on,” Pug said. “Or I'll bump you right here.”
Ginger started to go with him. I pulled her back. “Start shooting,” I said. “You got a swell audience.”
The crowd was beginning to leave. I heard the noise of the motors being started. I saw the punk over Pug's shoulder. I grabbed Pug and threw him down just as the punk fired. I heard the bullet whine. Pug caught me and pulled me down. We wrestled on the ground. I hit Pug and broke away. One of Pug's men jumped the punk and took away the pistol. He slapped the punk's face. I got oil the ground. “Leave him alone,” I said to the hoodlum. He pointed the pistol at my stomach. “Don't get tough.” The people by the hearse had heard the shot. They were looking back at us. Pug got oil the ground and began to brush the dirt of! his coat. I helped him. The people thought he had fallen and turned away. “Bring the kid here,” Pug said.
They brought him. He cried and struggled with the men. “Damn you,” he said. “What's the idea, kid?” Pug asked. I said: “He thinks you killed his sister.” Pug went to the punk. “You got me wrong,” he said. “Carmel was a swell doll. Would I be bringing her roses if I'd killed her?”
I said to the punk: “You better pay the minister. We'll have a talk later.” I gave him a twenty. He threw it on the ground.
“Why did you pull him down?”
I picked the bill up and gave it to him again. “Go pay the minister.”
Ginger said: “Come on.”
They started to go away, the punk looking bewildered, but the hoodlum with the pistol stopped them. “How about it, Pug?”
“Let 'em go.”
They went towards the hearse. Pug scowled at me. “I don't get it, pal.”
“The punk thinks you killed his sister.”
“No. Why didn't you let him plug me?”
“I'm your friend.”
Pug said: “That's a laugh.” He scowled at me. “I want to talk to you.”
He moved his head towards some graves further up the hill. I followed him. The two bodyguards stayed by Carmel's grave. The rain was nearly over. It was raining under a blue sky now. We stopped by a tombstone with an angel cut on it. I saw green apples on a tree below us.
Pug said: “Anyway, thanks for what you did.”
“Forget it.”
“Yeah? If I do can you think of any other reason why I shouldn't bump you oil?”
“The Princess.”
“The hell with her,” Pug said. “She's trying to muscle me out.”
“No,” I said. “You got her wrong.”
“Don't give me that.”
“She couldn't muscle you or anybody out. She doesn't run the Vineyard.”
“Who does, then?”
“McGee.” Pug looked blank, and I added: “The lawyer.”
Pug said: “Crap.”
“Okay. Don't believe me. But McGee's got it in for you. He didn't like the shooting at Papas's. And killin' Carmel.”
“Who told you this?”
“I used to work for McGee ... up to yesterday.”
“Either you're a liar or you...”
“Do you want me to prove McGee runs the Vineyard?”
Pug scowled. Then he said: “If you can.”
“All right. First I'll show you he owns Tony's place. And The Ship. And the house where Carmel worked. And the Silver Grove. And the Arkady.”
“The Vineyard owns them,” Pug said.
