"Drink that up, big boy," I say, "while you've got the chance. I reckon they won't give you a drink on the day they fry you."
He looks up.
"Senor," he says, "they can't fry me. I done nothin'. I keel nobody."
"Yeah," I tell him.
I take a chair an' sit down, an' look at him.
"Listen, dago," I say, "I reckon you've got enough sense to know what sorta jam you're in. If you're wise you're goin' to make things as easy as you can for yourself. Now, right now I'm not interested in the counterfeitin'. I know that was done here, an' I reckon I know the whole story of it. The thing that's takin' my notice at the present moment is this:
"Somebody here - one of you two guys-shot Jeremy Sagers. Now I reckon I know who bumped him. I've got it all figured out, but I made up my mind about one thing. The guy who shot him is goin' to fry for it, an' maybe the other guy will be lucky. Maybe he'll get away with from five to twenty years for being accessory to counterfeitin'."
I stop an' light myself a cigarette. I'm givin' these two guys plenty of time to stew.
After a bit I go on.
"Now all you two guys have got to consider is which one is goin' to be tried for what. If one of you likes to squeal on the other, OK. Otherwise I'm goin' to hold you both on the murder charge, an' if the Court don't feel so good about you I reckon they'll fry the pair of you. But with luck one of you can get away with it. So my advice to you is to get busy an' start thinkin', otherwise maybe two bums are goin' to get fried for one killin'."
I sit there waitin'. Fernandez is still grinnin'. He has still got his chair tilted back. He just looks at me an' sneers.
But Periera ain't feelin' so good, not by a long way he ain't. He is sweatin' more than ever, an' his hands are tremblin'. I reckon in a minute he will start to squeal because he is that sorta guy. An' I am right. We stick around there for about half a minute an' then he starts talkin'.
"I don't shoot nobody, senor," he says. "Me - I nevaire keel any guy, nevaire in my life do I keel a guy. I nevaire had no gun. I tell the trut'. I nevaire keel Sagers."
"So you didn't," I tell him. "All right, Periera," I say. "Now you listen to me. I will do the talkin', all you gotta say is yes if I'm right, an' all you've got to do is to sign a statement to that effect when I get you back to Palm Springs Police Station."
I throw my cigarette stub away, an' I go over to the side table an' give myself a drink. I'm pretty pleased with the way things are goin', an' I reckon that maybe in a coupla hours I'm goin' to get this job all over bar the shoutin'. I go back an' sit down. I light myself a fresh cigarette.
"Now here's the way it goes, Periera," I say. "When I got put on this counterfeitin' case first of all an' went along an' saw Langdon Burdell in New York, I reckon that he wised you guys up that the Federal authorities was gettin' busy on this job. But he didn't only wise you up, he found a picture of me, he cut it out of some newspaper - this is the picture I found down in a garbage can in the storeroom behind the bar, the place where Sagers' body was parked in the ice safe - an' when he's got this picture out of the newspaper he writes on the side of it 'This is the guy' an' sends it along to Fernandez here so that when I get down here you'll know who I am.
"OK. Well I get here. I blow in this dump thinkin' that nobody don't know me. I put on a big act with Sagers, so's to give him the chance to slip me any information he's got, an' you guys know all about it. You know who I am an' you see through the act I put on, so you guess that Sagers is workin' with me.
"All right. That night after the place is closed down-an' you get it closed down good an' early-Sagers comes up here an' tells you the stuff that I've told him to tell you. He says that some guy in Mexico has left him some dough an' he's goin' to fire himself an' scram for Arispe. He says goodbye to you fellers. He goes outa this room. He walks along the balcony an' starts goin' down the steps on the other side, an' I reckon that Fernandez here thinks that there is just a chance that this guy knows a bit too much - for all I know Sagers may have found somethin' out between the time that I left this dump an' the time that I found his body. Maybe he saw that hatch or somethin'.
"Anyhow, Fernandez goes to the door an' pulls a gun on Sagers. He fires over the dance floor. He hits Sagers in the leg. Sagers falls down the stairs an' Fernandez has another coupla shots, but he still ain't killed Sagers - the guy's too tough. So Fernandez goes along the balcony, down the steps an' puts another coupla shots into that poor guy at close range, so durn close that there was powder marks on his clothes an' his skin was burned.
"OK. Well by this time the guy decides to die, an' then Fernandez leans over him an' starts to pull him up. He pulls him up by his silver shirt cord an' the tassel falls off on the stair where I found it afterwards. Then this big guy Fernandez yanks him over his shoulder, takes him along an' parks him in the ice safe in a sack."
I stop. I look at Periera. He is cryin' like hell, the tears are runnin' down his face.
"Well, wop," I say, "is that right or is it right?"
He can't talk, he just nods his head. Fernandez looks at him.
"Aw shut up," he says. "You don't know what you're talkin' about. I suppose you're goin' to let this lousy dick frame you into sayin' anything he wants you to say."
"Look, Fernandez," I tell him. "I'd hate to get tough with you. I bust you up once before, but I promise you one thing, if I get my hooks on you again, I'll hurt you plenty. Just keep that trap of yours shut. You stay dead in this act.
"OK, Periera," I say, "so Fernandez shot Sagers. All right, that's that. Now you tell me somethin', Fernandez, since you're so keen on talkin', where did you bury the guy, huh?"
"Aw nuts," says Fernandez, "I ain't sayin' a word. I don't know what you're talkin' about. I ain't sayin' anythin' until I got a lawyer."
I laugh.
"The way you guys get stuck on lawyers drives me crazy," I say.
By this time Periera can talk. He cuts in:
"I tell you, senor, I tell you the trut'. What you say ees right. Fernandez here he keel Sagers. 'E theenk 'e know too much. 'E bury him at the end of the wall behind the garage. I see eet myself."
I look at Fernandez. He is still grinnin'. He is tiltin' his chair back an' forwards. He is tiltin' it so far back that I think that maybe in a minute he will fall over, an' then so quick that he has me guessin' he pulls a fast one. As he tilts the chair back he grabs at the desk drawer in front of him. It opens. He pulls out an automatic that is inside an' he puts four shots into Periera. Periera lets go a howl an' then starts whimperin'. He is shot in the body at close range an' he don't feel so good.
He slumps over the desk. At the same minute I come into action with the Luger. I let Fernandez have it. I give him two right through the pump.
He falls off the chair sideways. I go an' stand over him. Behind me I can hear Periera still whimperin'. Fernandez looks up at me an' starts talkin'. There is a little stream of blood runnin' outa the side of his mouth. He is still grinnin'. He looks like hell.
"Nuts, copper," he says. "You ain't goin' to fry me. You ain't...
He fades out.
Periera is lyin' quiet. I reckon he's got his too. When I look at him I see that I am right. His eyes are glazin' over.
I look around at Fernandez. He is lyin' sorta twisted up on the floor with his eyes starin' up at the ceilin'.
An' there they are - just two big guys who thought they could beat the rap. Two mugs who thought they could kick around an' do what they wanted. Fernandez, a big, cheap walloper with nothin' but some muscles an' a gun, an' Periera, a dirty little dago, trailin' along behind him. An' they always finish the same way. Either they get it like these two have got it or they finish up in the chair, scared stiff, talkin' about their mothers.
These guys make me feel sick.