Donner swung the blunt revolver until it pointed midway between the sandy-haired man and Sutro. He didn’t say anything. His eyes were thoughtful and interested.
Dalmas shifted his weight a little, on to the balls of his feet. The Filipino on the floor put a hand along the divan and his nails scratched on the leather.
«There’s more of it, Donner, but what the hell! Sutro was Walden’s pal, and he could get close to him, close enough to stick a gun to his head and let go. A shot wouldn’t be heard on the penthouse floor of the Kilmarnock, one little shot from a thirty-two. So Sutro put the gun in Walden’s hand and went on his way. But he forgot that Walden was left-handed and he didn’t know the gun could be traced. When it was — and his bought man wised him up — and I tapped the girl — he hired himself a chopper squad and angled all three of us out to a house in Palms to button our mouths for good … Only the chopper squad, like everything else in this play, didn’t do its stuff so good.»
Donner nodded slowly. He looked at a spot in the middle of Sutro’s stomach and lined his gun on it.
«Tell us about it, Johnny,» he said softly. «Tell us how you got clever in your old age —»
The sandy-haired man moved suddenly. He dodged down behind the desk and as he went down his right hand swept for his other gun. It roared from behind the desk. The bullet came through the kneehole and pinged into the wall with a sound of striking metal behind the paneling.
Dalmas jerked his Colt and fired twice into the desk. A few splinters flew. The sandy-haired man yelled behind the desk and came up fast with his gun flaming in his hand. Donner staggered. His gun spoke twice, very quickly. The sandy-haired man yelled again, and blood jumped straight out from one of his cheeks. He went down behind the desk and stayed quiet.
Donner backed until he touched the wall. Sutro stood up and put his hands in front of his stomach and tried to scream.
Donner said: «Okey, Johnny. Your turn.»
Then Donner coughed suddenly and slid down the wall with a dry rustle of cloth. He bent forward and dropped his gun and put his hands on the floor and went on coughing. His face got gray.
Sutro stood rigid, his hands in front of his stomach, and bent back at the wrists, the fingers curved clawlike. There was no light behind his eyes. They were dead eyes. After a moment his knees buckled and he fell down on the floor on his back.
Donner went on coughing quietly.
Dalmas crossed swiftly to the door of the room, listened at it, opened it and looked out. He shut it again quickly.
«Soundproof — and how!» he muttered.
He went back to the desk and lifted the telephone off its prongs. He put his Colt down and dialed, waited, said into the phone: «Captain Cathcart … Got to talk to him … Sure, it’s important … very important.»
He waited, drumming on the desk, staring hard-eyed around the room. He jerked a little as a sleepy voice came over the wire.
«Dalmas, Chief. I’m at the Casa Mariposa, in Gayn Donner’s private office. There’s been a little trouble, but nobody hurt bad… ye got Derek Walden’s killer for you … Johnny Sutro did it … Yeah, the councilman … Make it fast, Chief… I wouldn’t want to get in a fight with the help, you know.»
He hung up and picked his Colt off the top of the desk, held it on the flat of his hand and stared across at Sutro.
«Get off the floor, Johnny,» he said wearily. «Get up and tell a poor dumb dick how to cover this one up — smart guy!»
TEN
The light above the big oak table at Headquarters was too bright. Dalmas ran a finger along the wood, looked at it, wiped it off on his sleeve. He cupped his chin in his lean hands and stared at the wall above the roll-top desk that was beyond the table. He was alone in the room.
The loudspeaker on the wall droned: «Calling Car 71W in 72’s district … at Third and Berendo … at the drugstore … meet a man …»
The door opened and Captain Cathcart came in, shut the door carefully behind him. He was a big, battered man with a wide, moist face, a strained mustache, gnarled hands.
He sat down between the oak table and the roll-top desk and fingered a cold pipe that lay in the ashtray.
Dalmas raised his head from between his hands. Cathcart said: «Sutro’s dead.»
Dalmas stared, said nothing.
«His wife did it. He wanted to stop by his house a minute. The boys watched him good but they didn’t watch her. She slipped him the dose before they could move.»
Cathcart opened and shut his mouth twice. He had strong, dirty teeth.
«She never said a damn word. Brought a little gun around from behind her and fed him three slugs. One, two, three. Win, place, show. Just like that. Then she turned the gun around in her hand as nice as you could think of and handed it to the boys … What in hell she do that for?»
Dalmas said: «Get a confession?»
Cathcart stared at him and put the cold pipe in his mouth. He sucked on it noisily. «From him? Yeah — not on paper, though … What you suppose she done that for?»
«She knew about the blonde,» Dalmas said. «She thought it was her last chance. Maybe she knew about his rackets.»
The captain nodded slowly. «Sure,» he said. «That’s it. She figured it was her last chance. And why shouldn’t she bop the bastard? If the D.A.’s smart, he’ll let her take a manslaughter plea. That’d be about fifteen months at Tehachapi. A rest cure.»
Dalmas moved in his chair. He frowned.
Cathcart went on: «It’s a break for all of us. No dirt your way, no dirt on the administration. If she hadn’t done it, it would have been a kick in the pants all around. She ought to get a pension.»
«She ought to get a contract from Eclipse Films,» Dalmas said. «When I got to Sutro I figured I was licked on the publicity angle. I might have gunned Sutro myself — if he hadn’t been so yellow — and if he hadn’t been a councilman.»
«Nix on that, baby. Leave that stuff to the law,» Cathcart growled. «Here’s how it looks. I don’t figure we can get Walden on the book as a suicide. The filed gun is against it and we got to wait for the autopsy and the gun-shark’s report. And a paraffin test of the hand ought to show he didn’t fire the gun at all. On the other hand, the case is closed on Sutro and what has to come out ought not to hurt too bad. Am I right?»
Dalmas took out a cigarette and rolled it between his fingers. He lit it slowly and waved the match until it went out.
«Walden was no lily,» he said. «It’s the dope angle that would raise hell — but that’s cold. I guess we’re jake, except for a few loose ends.»
«Hell with the loose ends,» Cathcart grinned. «Nobody’s getting away with any fix that I can see. That sidekick of yours, Denny, will fade in a hurry and if I ever get my paws on the Dalton frail, I’ll send her to Mendocino for the cure. We might get something on Donner — after the hospital gets through with him. We’ve got to put the rap on those hoods, for the stick-up and the taxi driver, whichever of ’em did that, but they won’t talk. They still got a future to think about, and the taxi driver ain’t so bad hurt. That leaves the chopper squad.» Cathcart yawned. «Those boys must be from Frisco. We don’t run to choppers around here much.»
Dalmas sagged in his chair. «You wouldn’t have a drink, would you, Chief?» he said dully.
Cathcart stared at him. «There’s just one thing,» he said grimly. «I want you to stay told about that. It was okey for you to break that gun — if you didn’t spoil the prints. And I guess it was okey for you not to tell me, seein’ the jam you were in. But I’ll be damned if it’s okey for you to beat our time by chiselin’ on our own records.»