“Why—no, I did not.”
“Yes, you did. You noticed that it had been fired and that it smelled of burned powder.”
“But I did not—”
“Yes, you did. Just like that. You wondered about it. You didn’t like to keep it. You didn’t keep it. You gave it back to him. You don’t like them around anyhow.”
There was a long silence. She said at last, “But of course. But why did he want me to have it? I mean, if that was what happened.”
“He didn’t tell you why. He just tried to ditch a gun on you and you weren’t having any. Remember?”
“That is something I have to tell?”
“Si.”
“Will it be safe for me to do that?”
“When did you ever try to be safe?”
She laughed softly. “Amigo, you understand me very well.”
“Goodnight,” I said.
“One moment, you have not told me what happened.”
“I haven’t even telephoned you.”
I hung up and turned.
Mavis Weld was standing in the middle of the floor watching me.
“You have your car here?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“Get going.”
“And do what?”
“Just go home. That’s all.”
“You can’t get away with it,” she said softly.
“You’re my client.”
“I can’t let you. I killed him. Why should you be dragged into it?”
“Don’t stall. And when you leave go the back way. Not the way Dolores brought me.”
She stared me straight in the eyes and repeated in a tense voice, “But I killed him.”
“I can’t hear a word you say.”
Her teeth took hold of her lower lip and held it cruelly. She seemed hardly to breathe. She stood rigid. I went over close to her and touched her cheek with a fingertip. I pressed it hard and watched the white spot turn red.
“If you want to know my motive,” I said, “it has nothing to do with you. I owe it to the johns. I haven’t played clean cards in this game. They know. I know. I’m just giving them a chance to use the loud pedal.”
“As if anyone ever had to give them that,” she said, and turned abruptly and walked away. I watched her to the arch and waited for her to look back. She went on through without turning. After a long time I heard a whirring noise. Then the bump of something heavy—the garage door going up. A car started a long way off. It idled down and after another pause the whirring noise again.
When that stopped the motor faded off into the distance. I heard nothing now. The silence of the house hung around me in thick loose folds like that fur coat around the shoulders of Mavis Weld.
I carried the glass and bottle of brandy over to the bar and climbed over it. I rinsed the glass in a little sink and set the bottle back on the shelf. I found the trick catch this time and swung the door open at the end opposite the telephone. I went back to Steelgrave.
I took out the gun Dolores had given me and wiped it off and put his small limp hand around the butt, held it there and let go. The gun thudded to the carpet. The position looked natural. I wasn’t thinking about fingerprints. He would have learned long ago not to leave them on any gun.
That left me with three guns. The weapon in his holster I took out and went and put it on the bar shelf under the counter, wrapped in a towel. The Luger I didn’t touch. The other white-handled automatic was left. I tried to decide about how far away from him it had been fired. Beyond scorching distance, but probably very close beyond. I stood about three feet from him and fired two shots past him. They nicked peacefully into the wall. I dragged the chair around until it faced into the room. I laid the small automatic down on the dust cover of one of the roulette tables. I touched the big muscle in the side of his neck, usually the first to harden. I couldn’t tell whether it had begun to set or not. But his skin was colder than it had been.
There was not a hell of a lot of time to play around with.
I went to the telephone and dialed the number of the Los Angeles Police Department. I asked the police operator for Christy French. A voice from homicide came on, said he had gone home and what was it. I said it was a personal call he was expecting. They gave me his phone number at home, reluctantly, not because they cared, but because they hate to give anybody anything any time.
I dialed and a woman answered and screamed his name. He sounded rested and calm.
“This is Marlowe. What were you doing?”
