enough for me to finish a cigarette. I had just squashed it out when she called out, ?Mike . . . come here.?
I pushed open the door of the bedroom and stood there feeling my skin go hot and cold then hot again. She was wearing a floor-length nightgown of the sheerest, most transparent white fabric I had ever seen. It wasn?t the way the ad would be taken. Then the lights would be in front of her. The one in the room was behind her and she didn?t have anything on under it.
When she turned the fabric floated out in a billowy cloud and she smiled into my eyes with a look that meant more than words.
The front of it was wide open.
?Like me, Mike??
My forefinger moved, telling her to come closer. She floated across the room and stood in front of me, challenging me with her body. I said, ?Take it off.?
All she did was shrug her shoulders. The gown dropped to the floor.
I looked at her, storing up a picture in my mind that I could never forget. She could have been a statue standing there, a statue molded of creamy white flesh that breathed with an irregular rhythm. A statue with dark, blazing eyes and jaunty breasts that spoke of the passion that lay within. A statue that stood in a daring pose that made you want to reach out to touch and pull so close the fire would engulf you too.
The statue had a voice that was low and desiring. ?I could love you so easily, Mike.?
?Don?t,? I said.
Her lips parted, her tongue wet them. ?Why??
My voice had a rough edge to it. ?I can?t take the time.?
The coals in her eyes jumped into flame that burned me. I grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her against my chest, bruising her lips against mine. Her tongue was a little spear that flicked out, stabbing me, trying to wound me enough so I wouldn?t be able to walk away.
I didn?t let it stab me deep enough. I shoved her back, tried to talk and found that my voice wasn?t there anymore.
So I walked away. I walked away and left her standing there in the doorway, standing on a white cloud stark naked, the imprints of my fingers still etched in red on her shoulders.
?You?ll get the person you?re after, Mike. Nothing can stop you. Nothing.? Her voice was still husky, but there was a laugh behind it, and a little bit of pride, too. I was closing the door when I heard her whisper, ?I love you, Mike. Really and truly, I do.?
Outside, the snow had started again. There was no wind, so it drifted down lazily, sneaking up on the city to catch it by surprise. What few stragglers were left on the street stuck close to the curb and looked back over their shoulders for taxis.
I got in the car and started the wipers going, watching them kick angrily through the snow that had piled up on the windshield. At least the snow made all cars look alike. If anybody with a gun was waiting for me he?d have a fine time picking out my head from the others.
Thinking about it made me mad. One gun was in an exhibit folder at police headquarters and the other was probably hanging in a locker if it hadn?t been thrown away. It gave me an empty, uneasy feeling to be traveling without a rod slung under my arm. Sullivan Law? Hell, let me get picked up. It was all right for some harmless citizen to forget there were kill-crazy bastards loose, but one of them was looking for me.
There was a .30-caliber Luger sitting home in the bottom drawer of my dresser with a full clip of shells. It was just about the same size as a .45 too, just the right size to fit in my holster.
A plow was going by in front of my apartment house when I got there, so I figured it would be another hour at least before it would be around again and safe enough to park there.
I took the stairs instead of waiting for the elevator and didn?t bother to shuck my coat when I opened the door. I felt for the light switch, batted it up, but no light came on. I cursed the fuse system and groped for a lamp.
What is it that makes you know you?re not alone? What vague radiation emanates from the human body just strongly enough to give you one brief, minute premonition of danger that makes you act with animal reflexes? I had my hand around the base of the lamp when I felt it and I couldn?t suppress the half-scream halfsnarl that came out of my throat.
I threw that lamp as hard as I could across the wall, letting the cord rip loose from the socket as it smashed into a thousand pieces against the wall. There were two muffled snorts and a lance of flame bit into the darkness, bracketing me.
I didn?t let it happen again. I dove toward the origin of the snorts and crashed into a pair of legs that buckled with a hoarse curse and the next moment a fist was smashing against my jaw driving my head against the floor. Somehow I got out of the way of that fist and slugged out with my forearm trying to drive him off me.
My feet got tangled in the table and kicked it over. The two vases and the bar set splintered all over the room with a hellish racket and somebody in the next apartment shouted to somebody else. I got one arm under me then and grabbed a handful of coat. The guy was strong as a bull and I couldn?t hold it. That fist came back -and worked on my face some more with maniacal fury I couldn?t beat off. I was tangled in my coat and there were lights in the room now that didn?t come from the lamps.
All I knew was that I had to get up . . . had to get my feet under me and heave to get that thing off my back. Had to get up so I could use my hands on any part of him I could grab. I did it without knowing it and heard him ram into a chair and knock it on its side.
My teeth must have been bared to the gums and I screamed when I went in for the kill because I had him cold.
Then my legs got tangled in the lamp cord and I went flat on my face. My head hit something with a sharp crack that was all noise and no pain because there?s a point at which pain stops and unconsciousness takes over, and in that second between I knew the killer was deciding between killing me or making a break for it. Doors started to slam and he decided to run and I let my eyes close and drew in the darkness like a blanket around me and slept an unnatural sleep that was full of soft golden hair and billowy white nightgowns I could see through and Velda in a dress she was more out of than in.
The man bending over me had a serious round face with an oval-shaped mouth that worked itself into funny shapes. I began to laugh and the serious face got more serious and the mouth worked more furiously than before. I laughed at that funny little mouth going through all those grotesque distortions for quite a while before I realized he was talking.
He kept asking me my name and what day it was. At last I had sense enough to stop laughing and tell him my name and what day it was. The face lost its seriousness and smiled a little bit. ?You?ll be all right,? it said. ?Had me a bit worried for a minute.? The head turned and spoke to somebody else. ?A slight concussion, that?s all.?
The other voice said it was too bad it wasn?t a fracture. I recognized the voice. In another minute or two the face came into focus. It was the D.A. He had his hands in his coat pockets trying to look superior like a D.A. should look because there were people around.
I wormed into a sitting position that sent knives darting through my brain. The crowd was leaving now. The little man with the funny mouth carrying his black bag, the two women with their hair in curlers, the super, the man and woman who seemed to be slightly sick. The others stayed. One had a navy blue uniform with bright buttons, two wore cigars as part of their disguise. The D.A., of course. Then Pat. My pal. He was there too almost out of sight in the only, chair still standing on its own legs.
The D.A. held out his palm and let me look at the two smashed pellets he was holding. Bullets. ?They were in the wall, Mr. Hammer. I want an explanation. Now.?
One of the cigars helped me up on my feet and I could see better. They all had faces with noses now. Before they had been just a blur. I didn?t know I was grinning until the D.A. said, ?What?s so funny? I don?t see anything funny.?
?You wouldn?t.?
It was too much for the bright boy. He reached out and grabbed me by the lapels of my coat and pushed his face into mine. Any other time I would have kicked his pants off for that. Right now I couldn?t lift my hands.
?What?s so funny, Hammer? How?d you like . . .?
I turned my head and spit. ?You got bad breath. Go ?way.?
He half threw me against the wall. I was still grinning. There was white around his nostrils and his mouth
