this Terry Lennox. A mortar shell plops right in the middle of us and for some reason it don’t go off. Those jerries have a lot of tricks. They got a twisted sense of humor. Sometimes you think it’s a dud and three seconds later it ain’t a dud. Terry grabs it and he’s out of the foxhole before Randy and me can even start to get unstuck. But I mean quick, brother. Like a good ball handler. He throws himself face down and throws the thing away from him and it goes off in the air. Most of it goes over his head but a hunk gets the side of his face. Right then the krauts mount an attack and the next thing we know we ain’t there any more.”
Menendez stopped talking and gave me the bright steady glare of his dark eyes.
“Thanks for telling me,” I said.
“You take a good ribbing, Marlowe. You’re okay. Randy and me talked things over and we decided that what happened to Terry Lennox was enough to screw up any guy’s brains. For a long time we figured he was dead but he wasn’t. The krauts got him. They worked him over for about a year and a half. They did a good job but they hurt him too much. It cost us money to find out, and it cost us money to find him. But we made plenty in the black market after the war. We could afford it. All Terry gets out of saving our lives is half of a new face, white hair, and a bad case of nerves. Back east he hits the bottle, gets picked up here and there, kind of goes to pieces. There’s something on his mind but we never know what. The next thing we know he’s married to this rich dame and riding high. He unmarries her, hits bottom again, marries her again, and she gets dead. Randy and me can’t do a thing for him. He won’t let us except for that short job in Vegas. And when he gets in a real jam he don’t come to us, he goes to a cheapie like you, a guy that cops can push around. So then he gets dead, and without telling us goodbye, and without giving us a chance to pay off. I could have got him out of the country faster than a card sharp can stack a deck. But he goes crying to you. It makes me sore. A cheapie, a guy cops can push around.”
“The cops can push anybody around. What do you want me to do about it?”
“Just lay off,” Menendez said tightly.
“Lay off what?”
“Trying to make yourself dough or publicity out of the Lennox case. It’s finished, wrapped up. Terry’s dead and we don’t want him bothered any more. The guy suffered too much.”
“A hoodlum with sentiment,” I said. “That slays me.”
“Watch your lip, cheapie. Watch your lip. Mendy Menendez don’t argue with guys. He tells them. Find yourself another way to grab a buck. Get me?”
He stood up. The interview was finished. He picked up his gloves. They were snow-white pigskin., They didn’t look as if he ever had them on. A dressy type, Mr. Menendez. But very tough behind it all.
“I’m not looking for publicity,” I said. “And nobody’s offered me any dough. Why would they and for what?”
“Don’t kid me, Marlowe. You didn’t spend three days in the freezer just because you’re a sweetheart. You got paid off. I ain’t saying who by but I got a notion. And the party I’m thinking about has plenty more of the stuff. The Lennox case is closed and it stays closed even if—” He stopped dead and flipped his gloves at the desk edge.
“Even if Terry didn’t kill her,” I said.
His surprise was as thin as the gold on a weekend wedding ring. “I’d like to go along with you on that, cheapie. But it don’t make any sense. But if it did make sense—and Terry wanted it the way it is—then that’s how it stays.”
I didn’t say anything. After a moment he grinned slowly. “Tarzan on a big red scooter,” he drawled. “A tough guy. Lets me come in here and walk all over him. A guy that gets hired for nickels and dimes and gets pushed around by anybody. No dough, no family, no prospects, no nothing. See you around, cheapie.”
I sat still with my jaws clamped, staring at the glitter of his gold cigarette case on the desk corner. I felt old and tired. I got up slowly and reached for the case.
“You forgot this,” I said, going around the desk.
“I got half a dozen of them,” he sneered.
When I was near enough to him I held it out. His hand reached for it casually. “How about half a dozen of these?” I asked him and hit him as hard as I could in the middle of his belly.
He doubled up mewling. The cigarette case fell to the floor. He backed against the wall and his hands jerked back and forth convulsively. His breath fought to get into his lungs. He was sweating. Very slowly and with an intense effort he straightened up and we were eye to eye again. I reached out and ran a finger along the bone of his jaw. He held still for it. Finally he worked a smile onto his brown face.
“I didn’t think you had it in you,” he said.
“Next time bring a gun—or don’t call me cheapie.”
“I got a guy to carry the gun.”
“Bring him with you. You’ll need him.”
“You’re a hard guy to get sore, Marlowe.”
I moved the gold cigarette case to one side with my foot and bent and picked it up and handed it to him. He took it and dropped it into his pocket.
“I couldn’t figure you,” I said. “Why it was worth your time to come up here and ride me. Then it got monotonous. All tough guys are monotonous. Like playing cards with a deck that’s all aces. You’ve got everything and you’ve got nothing. You’re just sitting there looking at yourself. No wonder Terry didn’t come to you for help. It would be like borrowing money from a whore.”
He pressed delicately on his stomach with two fingers. “I’m sorry you said that, cheapie. You could crack wise once too often.”
He walked to the door and opened it. Outside the bodyguard straightened from the opposite wall and turned. Menendez jerked his head. The bodyguard came into the office and stood there looking me over without expression.
“Take a good look at him, Chick,” Menendez said. “Make sure you know him just in case. You and him might
