being fulfilled ... first crack at the property goes to a family member. If it soothes your conscience any, tell the slobs who’s buying. If they need the money they’ll have to sell anyway.”
“Why not tell them?”
“Let’s save it for a surprise. That way McMillan will be squirming too. He’ll be all shook to know there’s money hidden on one of the relatives. Just consign the property to Ave Higgins, Inc. and I’ll get all the papers in your hands within two days. Can do?”
“You’re more fun than defending on a rape case. Yes, can do if I compromise my principles a little. By the way, who handles all your business affairs?”
“From now on you do, great Hunter. Look for a big package in the mail.”
When he said “so long” I called Western Union, sent the wire that would get his big package delivered into his hands, made one last call to Dick Lagen’s office whose secretary told me he was out at the moment, but could be reached in an hour, then left for the two-room office in the dilapidated building across town where a stringy guy in a greasy leather apron was very happy to sell me a clean .45 automatic, belt holster, a pair of extra clips and two boxes of standard Army cap and ball ammo. I checked out the action of the piece, loaded the clips, slammed one into the gun and jacked a shell into the chamber with the hammer on half cock. The stringy guy pocketed my money, nodded once and went back to his bench and began filing down the sear on a dissembled foreign weapon.
Outside there was a muted kettledrum roll of thunder and I knew it was going to rain again. I was glad I had brought my trench coat.
Lee and Rose were on their second round of Martinis when I walked into the Spindletop restaurant on West Forty-seventh Street. They were upstairs in the rear scratching names on the back of an envelope, arguing about one of them and crossing it off.
I pulled out a chair and said,
Rose gave me a silly grin and raised her glass. “Hello, big man.”
“Nice to see you with your clothes on,” I told her.
“She’s better bare-ass,” Lee grunted. He folded the envelope and stuck it in his jacket pocket. I signaled for a drink, and when it came Lee leaned back in his seat and leered at me. “Cradle robber.”
“Eat your heart out,” I said.
“Well, let’s have it, Dog. The way the rumors are flying, you’re liable to be up for statutory rape.”
“Not him,” Rose said lightly. “Seduction, yes. Rape, no. He makes a girl beg for it.”
I gave her a quick look and Lee grinned. “Don’t sweat it, kid. Share the wealth, that’s my motto. Rose tells me you’re quite a card. It’s good to know you square types have rounded comers, at least.”
“Hell, are you a kiss and tell doll,” I said to Rose.
“Tell? Man I was bragging on you. It’s a goal for these puppies to shoot at.”
“Things sure have changed,” I said.
“Shee-it,” Lee laughed. “You haven’t forgotten those leaves in London, have you? There was you in one sack with that tall Wren and me in the other with the cute little WAAC dispatcher from squadron five, switching beds every time the air raid siren went off. Why, man ...”
“I had forgotten it until now.”
Rose giggled over her glass. “She leave a painful memory, Dog?”
“No, but we both had to chip in on an abortion fee for the Wren. Neither one knew who did it.”
“Forgot about that,” Lee muttered. He took a quick sip of his drink to try to erase the look of worried concern that began to cloud his eyes. When he put the glass down he nodded to me approvingly. “Nice threads, kiddo. I’m still impressed.”
“He’s got that
“I’ve never been away.”
Once again, I got that funny glance from Lee.
I said, “What have you been up to?”
“A bash,” Lee told me, “a first-class, Sunday-supplement-making, swinging bash. I’m trying to work up a list of guests.”
“What’s the occasion?”
“Didn’t Sharon tell you? Hell, she pried loose a few million from Walt Gentry for big daddy S. C. Cable. They’re going into a coproduction deal with Cable Howard pictures. Old S.C. optioned the current best seller and is going all out to change his sex-exploitation image into that of artist-genius public-entertainment benefactor.”
“What’s the book?”
I let out a grunt and lit a cigarette. “That title and no sex?”
“Where’ve you been, kid? Everything’s sex. It’s just how you handle it. S.C.’s giving this the modem treatment, as they say, telling it like it is.”
“How is it?” I grinned.
Lee looked at Rose and laughed. “He’s asking me,” he said. “Good, man. I haven’t found anything to take its place so far.”
“Maybe you just haven’t looked.”
“Baloney. Name me one thing that’s better.”
I shrugged and took another drag of the butt. “Not better, but the kicks are there. At least for some.”
“So name it.”
Both of them were looking at me interestedly now.
“Remember your first kill, Lee? It was a Heinkel bomber over the Channel. You watched two guys tumble out of it and never get their chutes open. How did you feel?”
One of his shoulders twitched and he made a wry face. “Sick,” he said.
I had to grin again. “Like the first time you got laid, remember? You told me about it. They initiated you into the gang by making you screw a two-buck whore on a torn-up sofa in the back of a garage. You, a nice moral- conscious kid from a good family. You got sick then, too.”
“All right, I was fourteen years old.”
“You could still get it up, buddy,” I reminded him. “Now, how about that second kill? I was right off your wing when you got that ME 109 and followed him all the way down watching him burn. You threw a party that night and got bombed.”
“After all, Dog ...”
“The point isn’t made yet, pal. After that you started hunting. You went looking for the kill. You fought the competition off to cut out your target, engaged in the fight and climaxed with the kill. After that it was barroom smugness and a little braggadocio until your juices settled down and then back to the hunt again. After enough of it the whole thing became a routine game.”
“Knock it off, Dog, killing and sex aren’t the same!”
“They call an orgasm ‘the little death,’ don’t they?”
Rose had her chin propped in her hands and was watching us oddly. “You know, he may be right, Lee.” Her eyes dug into mine then. “Tell me, Dog, did you get your kicks from killing?”
“After the first one I understood the similarity.”
“I didn’t ask you that.”
I snuffed the cigarette out. “Probably, but I didn’t give it much thought until it was all over. War really isn’t a natural state of affairs.”
“Dog ...”
His face was tight and his tone searching.
“What?”
“And now that the subject has been researched, how do you feel about it?”
“Most people never know what killing is like.”
