The cop shook his head. “That was evidence against you,” he said. “That dame sure wants you out of the way.”
In the street, Duffy heard a car draw up. He ran to the window in time to see four uniformed police officers tumbling out. Two quick steps took him to the door. Then he slid down the flight of stairs, darted into the kitchen as the front door burst open. Quietly, he let himself out the back door. He could hear the cop upstairs yelling his head off. He told himself that he'd got to make the Buick. He ran round the small garden, paused when he reached the front, and peered carefully round the corner of the house. He could see the police car, and a little way further on was the Buick. He ran hard, not caring how much noise he made. As he reached the Buick and pulled open the heavy door he heard a shout, but he didn't stop. He scrambled into the car, swearing softly and continuously. The cold sweat ran down his face, and he expected to feel the jagged pain of a hot slug smash into him. As he slammed the door to, a gun roared from the bedroom window.
He started the engine, revved hard, engaged his gear, and shot the Buick down the road. He heard three distinct thuds on the back of the car before he jerked round the corner.
He said, “It's going to be a grand finish.” And his face stiffened into a hard mask as he swung the quivering car to the bends.
CHAPTER XII
ROSS WAS HAVING a snack when Duffy drove in. He waddled out of the office, his little mouth tight with food. He nodded at Duffy, gulped, then said, “Anything wrong?”
Ross always expected trouble. Duffy got out of the car and said, “The wagon's hot. Gimme new plates.”
For his size, Ross moved amazingly quickly. He went back to the office, and returned with a new set of plates. Duffy helped him change them. Ross said, “You jammed?”
“Listen, pal, ask nothing and hear nothing. I'm buying this box. Maybe, you won't see me any more.”
Ross raised his eyebrows and put his hands on his enormous buttocks. “Okay,” he said, “keep her you've looked after me before now.”
Duffy took out the roll of notes and peeled some off. He stuck them in Ross's belt. “Buy yourself a yacht with that,” he said. Then he climbed back in the car. Ross put his head through the window. “If you want a good hide-out,” he said, “go to the Bronx on Maddiston and tell Gilroy I sent you.”
Duffy repeated, “Bronx on Maddiston.”
Ross took his head from the window, glanced out into the street. “It's clear, “he said. “I'm sorry about this.”
Duffy showed his teeth. “Me too,” he said. “Others are going to share our grief.”
He raised his hand in a salute, then rolled the Buick into the street again. He drove carefully up Lafayette Street, cut across Broadway to Washington Square and headed for Greenwich Village. He parked outside a drug store and went in.
Several men were eating at the quick-lunch bar, and Duffy sat on an empty stool. He had a chicken sandwich. He washed it down with three quick drags from the pint flask he had taken from the car. The whisky was rough, but there was plenty of life in it. When he had finished the sandwich, he crossed over to the telephone booths and shut himself in. He dialled the Tribune number and asked for Sam. When Sam came to the 'phone, Duffy said, “Sam? Got any news?”
Sam said in a low voice, “I gotta see you.”
Duffy said, “Can you come out to Dinty's? I'll go straight there.”
Sam said, “Yeah,” and hung up.
Duffy walked out of the drug store, looked up and down the street before he crossed the pavement, then climbed into the Buick. He let in his clutch and drove over to Dinty's. He parked the car in the underground garage, took the lift to the top floor, asked for a private room.
The waiter who served him said, “A lady is coming?”
Duffy shook his head. “Get the room ready, have some rum, absinthe and dressing up there, and some Club sandwiches. I'm waiting downstairs for a friend.”
Sam came in the hall a little while after. They went up together in the lift. Neither of them said anything, but Sam kept wiping off his hands and face with a large handkerchief. They went into the room and Duffy shut the door.
Sam said, “You gone crazy?”
Duffy went over to the table and began to fix the drinks. “Has it broken yet?” he asked.
“They're printing it now. I was down at the station when the report came in.” Sam was trying to be casual, but he was as jittery as a hophead.
Duffy poured the drinks from the shaker, and silently pushed one of the glasses over.
Sam said, “You're in a hell of a spot.”
“Annabel's playing this,” Duffy said savagely. “She's pulling strings behind the scene.”
“What happened, for God's sake?”
Duffy drained his glass, and immediately filled up again. “We were set to pull out. I went down to the bank to get the book out. When I got back, I found the joint in pieces and Olga dead. Some rat had stuck a knife in her. I must have been crazy. Instead of grabbing the 'phone and reporting it right away, I ran round in circles. Then a couple of cops moved in. They had the story pat. I'd killed Olga for her roll. They even found the dough on me. One of 'em palmed it, put his hand in my pocket and seemed surprised to find it clinging to his hand.”
Sam stared. “Why the frame? They had you sewed up tight enough without that.”
Duffy shrugged. “You telling me? The sweet part of the set-up was they intended to iron me out. I could see them getting set for it. Resisting arrest, closing the case, and slapping the murder rap on a corpse. Save the State plenty. It was nice planning, but they were slow on it. One cop shot the other, and I ducked out as the patrol wagon arrived.”
Sam fidgeted with his glass. “You're it,” he said.
“Annabel knocked her off.” Duffy sat on the edge of the cable, he held his glass a little on one side, so that the liquor slopped slightly on the carpet. “They thought they'd get the list without paying. Well, they won't. It's going to be just too bad for them.”
“You better skip while the going's good. You can't stand up against this outfit. It's too big for you.”
Duffy said evenly, “I'm finishing this. They've had all the fun up to now. Olga said I'd never get anywhere with those rats till I took a gun, and by God, she's right.”
Sam said, “You liked that Jane, didn't you?”
Duffy's mouth set in a thin line. He kept his eyes on the floor. “I was getting used to her,” he said at last. “She had all the bad breaks.”
“I still say skip. You can't buck the cops, as well as Morgan. They're too big for you.”
Duffy said, “You keep out of this, Sam. I'm going out to the Bronx on Maddiston. Ross's got a hide-out there. If things begin to break wrong, you can find me there. I'll wait until the heat cools off, then I'll start something.”