“Let me explain something to you,” Culhane said. “I’m old. And the older I get, the more I appreciate time. Right now, you’re wasting mine.”
Culhane looked at me and put the Luger against Hirshman’s knee. “Ask him some questions.”
“How did you get here from Baltimore?” I asked.
“I had to get outta town in a hurry,” Earl blurted. “There was heat on me. I heard about this resort in Mendosa and called Guilfoyle. He said come on out, fifty bucks a day and I’d have to do whatever he told me to do. I took the train out.”
“When?”
“About a month ago.”
“Then what?”
“Guilfoyle says, ‘I got a job for you in a couple of weeks.’ I says, ‘Doin’ what?’ He says, ‘You got some limits I don’t know about?’ I shake my head, ‘No.’ He says, ‘Good. I’ll let you know.’ ”
“Keep going.”
“Yesterday he tells me to get Dahlmus and that crazy freak inside, take the cabin cruiser down to this marina in L.A., and pick up this guy named Riker. Once Riker came aboard, he’d give the orders.”
“Who ran the boat?”
“I dunno. It was called Pretty Maid.”
“When did Riker show up?”
“A little before six. He was in a black limo. I didn’t see who was driving.”
Culhane was irate. His jaw was tight as a fist. He walked back and forth in front of Earl. Finally he said, “Why did you kill my friend?”
“I didn’t shoot him. Leo was walking behind him and when Lefton told us to fuck off, he just swung the shotgun up and shot him.”
Culhane looked down at the gunman. I spoke quickly.
“Who’s paying you for all the dirty work?” I asked.
Earl was sweating. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
“Who’s paying you?” I repeated
“You’re not doing real well, Earl,” Culhane cut in. “You’re hesitating! One more hesitation and I’ll forget about your kneecaps. I’ll just take off your pecker.”
The gun roared and a geyser of dirt exploded a quarter of an inch from Earl’s crotch. He screamed and scrambled backward.
“Where’s Dahlmus?” I said.
“He’s dead,” Earl stammered. “Riker shot him on the boat.”
“Who else was there?”
“Me, the cuckoo-nut, Dahlmus, and the guy who drove the boat.”
“Okay, go on.”
“We hang around a marina in Santa Monica and this big Lincoln pulls up and out comes Riker. He climbs aboard and says, ‘Haul ass.’ That’s all he said until we’re out about two hours and then Riker asks Leo for his gun. He goes over and caps Dahlmus twice. Dahlmus goes over backward. Then he says to us something like ‘How about that, he fell overboard.’ ”
“You saw him shoot Dahlmus?” I said.
“Hell, I was three feet away. Surprised the hell outta me. Surprised Dahlmus, too.”
“You take my breath away, Earl,” Culhane said. “Keep talkin’.”
“Riker says to me, ‘I want you to call this Bannon and tell him to meet you at Lefton’s fishing camp.’ Then Riker says, ‘Tell him you’ll meet him there and you got plenty of information for him, but you got to make a deal. Tell Bannon if he comes in with anybody, he’ll never see you again.’
“So we pull into Lefton’s. Leo and I scout the place, and we see Lefton goin’ into the office, and Leo follows him in, and he’s on the phone. So Leo goes nuts, slams down the phone, and shoves him outside, and I ask him can he run a couple of us into town, and he’s walkin’ away and says ‘fuck off’ and you know the rest.”
“They stole Charlie’s car, too?” Culhane said.
“Yeah. By now Riker’s getting nervous. He takes the dead guy’s keys, tells us to wait here and call if anybody comes snoopin’ around.”
I asked him, “Where were you staying in Mendosa?”
“At Shuler’s. There’s a building back of the main place there with an indoor swimming pool and a workout room. There’s a big room on the second floor, which is where they keep all the crazies, and there’s four small apartments on the top floor. It’s where I was staying. Dahlmus, too. And Leo the clown.”
“How about the other apartment?”
“Empty.”
“Is that where Riker is now?”
“I dunno, I swear. I never seen Riker until we picked him up at the marina. We sail past Mendosa because there was a Coast Guard cutter snoopin’ around and end up here.”
“What did he pay you?” Culhane asked.
Hirshman hesitated a moment and Culhane aimed the gun at his crotch again.
“Two bills for everybody I hit,” he babbled. “He told me if a cop named Bannon showed up, he’d give me five hundred to hit him.”
“Jesus,” Culhane said, then dragged Hirshman to his feet and called Rusty over.
“Rusty,” Culhane said, “take him into Lefton’s office.”
We followed them. The clown was still lying on the floor, his feet sticking out from under the blanket.
Culhane shoved Earl into a chair near the desk. “Now listen carefully, Earl. You’re going to call Guilfoyle. Tell him that I showed up with Bannon and several men. Tell him there was some shooting and we killed Groover and you’re trapped in Lefton’s office. And you need help now. Tell him you can’t hold out any longer, then hang up. You think you can remember all that?”
Earl nodded.
Culhane got the operator and gave her the number.
“You really think you can get Guilfoyle to come to us?” I asked Culhane.
“Oh, he’ll come alright,” Culhane replied with a smile. “His balls are a lot bigger than his brain.”
“What are you going to do when he gets here?”
“Arrest him for aiding and abetting, conspiracy to commit murder, harboring fugitives, and I’m sure I’ll think of a few other things by then.”
Culhane had his men pull both cars up side by side, blocking the narrow road. He dispersed four of his men into the woods, two on each side of the road leading from Mendosa. Rusty, one-eyed Max, and Redd stood behind him back by the cars, Rusty and Redd with shotguns and Max with the tommy gun.
“Where do you want me?” I asked.
“Out of the line of fire,” he said.
“This is my game, too,” I said. I reached under the dash of my car and retrieved the shotgun, got the. 45 from the car pocket and stuck it in my belt. The Luger was back under my arm.
Culhane sighed with exasperation. “Okay,” he replied. “Open the Packard door on the driver’s side and stand behind it with the window rolled down.” And to his crew: “No shooting until it’s necessary. This is between me and Guilfoyle. If the rest of them insist on a fight, we’ve got them in a cross fire.”
Culhane took off his tuxedo jacket, laid it out neatly on the front seat of the car, and rolled his right shirtsleeve up to the elbow. He took the warrant for Riker out of the jacket’s inside pocket and slipped it in his back pocket. He took a wooden box from under the seat, opened it, and took out the six-gun, a Peacemaker in a tanned leather holster. He slid it out of the holster, spun the cylinder and checked the load, then dropped it back in its holster. He hitched the Peacemaker to his hip and tied the holster right against his leg.
“Kill the car lights,” said Culhane, and they blinked off. The only light came from the garish red sign next to the lodge.
Wisps of fog dampened everything.
Culhane stood in front of the Packard, with one foot on the bumper and his forearm resting on his knee.
All eyes were on the road from Mendosa.
