Duffy stepped up to the car. “Morgan's gang've just knocked Gilroy off,” he said slowly, putting his foot on the step. “I was there. You've come along at the right time.”
Hesitatingly, three of the cops got out of the car and stood undecided in the rain, then they turned and walked over to the Bronx.
Duffy jerked his hand, signaling to Schultz, and followed them. Schultz, walking with elaborate caution, crossed the road and caught up with Duffy.
Inside, the three cops stood and looked at Gilroy, then walked over and stirred Shep with a foot.
One said, “He'll be okay. Just a rap.”
The Sergeant caught sight of Schultz, and his face clouded. Duffy could see the sullen hostile expression blotting out indifference. The Sergeant said, “Where were you?”
Duffy broke in, “He's okay. He was putting my car away.”
The Sergeant looked at Duffy, scowled, then said, “You're in the clear now, but watch your step.” There was an ominous threat in his voice. It puzzled Duffy.
Shep began to move. Straightening his great limbs, and grunting. He raised his head painfully. Duffy thought he looked like a stranded turtle, lying there.
He said, “It's all right.”
Shep looked at him blankly, sat up and rubbed the back of his head. He began to swear softly and vilely. When he saw Gilroy, he stopped. He turned his head and looked at Duffy. Then he got to his feet.
The Sergeant had given instructions for an ambulance; he was wandering round the room, sniffing suspiciously at everything.
Duffy said to Shep, “They beat it in the rain.”
Shep put his hand across his eyes and squeezed his temples, as if trying to force his eyes back to normal. He said in his tinny voice, very low and hoarse, “I'll square those rats, you see.”
Schultz was watching the cops uneasily. He said out of the corner of his mouth, “These birds ain't acting friendly.”
Duffy went across the room and fixed drinks. He said, “You boys want something while you're waiting?”
The two cops looked up, their stupid faces brightening. The Sergeant said, “Skip that. You know better.”
Duffy held the glass in his hand, astonished, but he said nothing. The ambulance came up then. They could hear the siren, and two white-coated attendants scooped Gilroy up and took him away.
The Sergeant came over to Schultz. “You got a rod?” he said.
Schultz pulled Duffy's Colt from his holster and handed it over. The Sergeant examined it, his eyes narrowed, and his lips thin red. “We'll look this over,” he said. “It might have a record.”
Duffy moved forward and took the gun out of the Sergeant's hand. He said in a hard voice, “Tell English I took it from you,” he said. “I want this cannon for a while.”
Thick red veins knotted at the Sergeant's neck. His watery blue eyes bulged. He didn't say anything, but walked out, jerking his head at the other two.
When they had gone, Schultz said uneasily, “Those guys seem to hate us.”
Duffy stood frowning at the floor. Then he said, “I don't like this. Maybe English's loosing his grip.”
He went to his room and dialled. When English answered, Duffy said, “We've had a shooting here.” His voice was tense and sharp. “Morgan's mob knocked off Gilroy and tried to iron me out. They got away.”
English said, “You got to be careful.”
Duffy grinned mirthlessly at the mouthpiece. “You telling me,” he said. “What I want you to know is the cops seemed kind of unfriendly. You're giving me protection. I don't like to have it come back on me. These birds were only keeping their hands off me with an effort.”
English said softly, “You're wanted for a murder rap. You can't expect too much.”
Duffy stared at the opposite wall. “How long's your protection going to last, once Morgan's out of the way?”
English said immediately, “You've got nothing to worry about. I'm getting the papers to run the whole case tomorrow, clearing you. You see, you'll be in the clear tomorrow.”
Duffy said, “We've fixed Morgan. You'll pay twenty-five grand into my bank, tomorrow?”
English said, “Sure, tomorrow. When they got Morgan I'll do that.”
Duffy said, “'Bye,” and hung up. He walked across to the window and looked out, lifting the blue blind away from the window and peering round the side. The rain ran down the window. He could only see faintly the street light. He dropped the blind and went once more to the telephone. It began to ring. Its sudden violence startled him. He sat on edge of the bed and pulled the receiver towards him.
Alice's voice said, “Oh, Bill.”
He said, “Why, for God's sake! It's nearly two o'clock. What makes you call at this time?”
She said, her voice uneven, “Sam just heard. They say there's been shooting at the Bronx. I was so frightened. I thought something had happened to you.”
“Where's Sam?”
“They called him up. He's gone down to headquarters. You are all right?”
“Sure, I'm all right. There's nothing to worry about.” He paused and then went on, “Listen, honey, you're right. This is getting me nowhere. I'm quitting. I got nineteen grand salted away, and another little packet tomorrow, then I'm through. English is taking the heat off, and it's going to turn out swell.”
She said, “I'm... I'm glad. It is all right, isn't it, Bill?” He thought she was crying.
“You see,” he said, “tomorrow we'll have a party. You and Sam and me. It's going to be fine. And listen, I'm coming round in the afternoon, and you and me will go shopping. You can buy yourself the world. Doll yourself up and surprise Sam. How do you like that?”
She said, her voice still anxious, “I shan't rest until you're with us.”
“Good night,” he said. “You're worrying about nothing.”
When he hung up, he sat on the edge of the bed thinking. A little shiver ran through him suddenly, and he got up impatiently. “Hell,” he said. “I guess my feet are damp.”
CHAPTER XVII
DUFFY WOKE WITH A start. Across the room, the sun leaked round the side of the blind, throwing ragged lines of light on the walls.
The telephone was ringing, grinding shrilly.
He said, “Goddam it,” and turned over in the bed. Pulling the blanket over his ears, he tried to ignore the jarring noise, but the bell went on ringing, insistently.
He turned over again and climbed stiffly out of the bed. Scooping up the telephone, he shouted, “What the hell is it?”
Sam was yelling at the other end. He was so excited that Duffy couldn't understand a word. He said, “I can't hear you. What is it?”
Sam choked, then came over quieter. “For God's sake, Bill,” he said. “Hell's broken loose this end. English's double-crossing you. He's slapped every rap he can lay hold of on you.”