I went over and kicked at the rug that lay where Geiger had lain. "It's old blood," I said. "Dried blood."
"Just the same we'll have some law."
"Why not?" I said.
His eyes went narrow. The veneer had flaked off him, leaving a well-dressed hard boy with a Luger. He didn't like my agreeing with him.
"Just who the hell are you, soldier?"
"Marlowe is the name. I'm a sleuth."
"Never heard of you. Who's the girl?"
"Client. Geiger was trying to throw a loop on her with some blackmail. We came to talk it over. He wasn't here. The door being open we walked in to wait. Or did I tell you that?"
"Convenient," he said. "The door being open. When you didn't have a key."
"Yes. How come you had a key?"
"Is that any of your business, soldier?"
"I could make it my business."
He smiled tightly and pushed his hat back on his gray hair. "And I could make your business my business."
"You wouldn't like it. The pay's too small."
"All right, bright eyes. I own this house. Geiger is my tenant. Now what do you think of that?"
"You know such lovely people."
"I take them as they come. They come all kinds."
He glanced down at the Luger, shrugged and tucked it back under his arm. "Got any good ideas, soldier?"
"Lots of them. Somebody gunned Geiger. Somebody got gunned by Geiger, who ran away. Or it was two other fellows. Or Geiger was running a cult and made blood sacrifices in front of that totem pole. Or he had chicken for dinner and liked to kill his chickens in the front parlor."
The gray man scowled at me.
"I give up," I said. "Better call your friends downtown."
"I don't get it," he snapped. "I don't get your game here."
"Go ahead, call the buttons. You'll get a big reaction from it."
He thought that over without moving. His lips went back against his teeth. "I don't get that, either," he said tightly.
"Maybe it just isn't your day. I know you, Mr. Mars. The Cypress Club at Las Olindas. Flash gambling for flash people. The local law in your pocket and a well-greased line into L.A. In other words, protection. Geiger was in a racket that needed that too. Perhaps you spared him a little now and then, seeing he's your tenant."
His mouth became a hard white grimace. "Geiger was in what racket?"
"The smut book racket."
He stared at me for a long level minute. "Somebody got to him," he said softly. "You know something about it. He didn't show at the store today. They don't know where he is. He didn't answer the phone here. I came up to see about it. I find blood on the floor, under a rug. And you and a girl here."
"A little weak," I said. "But maybe you can sell the story to a willing buyer. You missed a little something, though. Somebody moved his books out of the store today the nice books he rented out."
He snapped his fingers sharply and said: "I should have thought of that, soldier. You seem to get around. How do you figure it?"
"I think Geiger was rubbed. I think that is his blood. And the books being moved out gives a motive for hiding the body for a while. Somebody is taking over the racket and wants a little time to organize."
"They can't get away with it," Eddie Mars said grimly.
"Who says so? You and a couple of gunmen in your car outside? This is a big town now, Eddie. Some very tough people have checked in here lately. The penalty of growth."
"You talk too damned much," Eddie Mars said. He bared his teeth and whistled twice, sharply. A car slammed outside and running steps came through the hedge. Mars flicked the Luger out again and pointed it at my chest. "Open the door."
The knob rattled and a voice called out. I didn't move. The muzzle of the Luger looked like the mouth of the Second Street tunnel, but I didn't move. Not being bullet proof is an idea I had had to get used to.
"Open it yourself, Eddie. Who the hell are you to give me orders? Be nice and I might help you out."
He came to his feet rigidly and moved around the end of the desk and over to the door. He opened it without taking his eyes off me. Two men tumbled into the room, reaching busily under their arms. One was an obvious pug, a good-looking pale-faced boy with a bad nose and one ear like a club steak. The other man was slim, blond, deadpan, with close-set eyes and no color in them.
Eddie Mars said: "See if this bird is wearing any iron."
The blond flicked a short-barreled gun out and stood pointing it at me. The pug sidled over flatfooted and felt my pockets with care. I turned around for like a bored beauty modeling an evening gown.
"No gun," he said in a burry voice.
"Find out who he is."
The pug slipped a hand into my breast pocket and drew out my wallet. He flipped it open and studied the contents. "Name's Philip Marlowe, Eddie. Lives at the Hobart Arms on Franklin. Private license, deputy's badge and all. A shamus." He slipped the wallet back in my pocket, slapped my face lightly and turned away.
"Beat it," Eddie Mars said.
The two gunmen went out again and closed the door. There was the sound of them getting back into the car. They started its motor and kept it idling once more.
"All right. Talk," Eddie Mars snapped. The peaks of his eyebrows made sharp angles against his forehead.
"I'm not ready to give out. Killing Geiger to grab his racket would be a dumb trick and I'm not sure it happened that way, assuming he has been killed. But I'm sure that whoever got the books knows what's what, and I'm sure that the blonde lady down at his store is scared batty about something or other. And I have a guess who got the books."
"Who?"
"That's the part I'm not ready to give out. I've got a client, you know."
He wrinkled his nose. "That " he chopped it off quickly.
"I expected you would know the girl," I said.
"Who got the books, soldier?"
"Not ready to talk, Eddie. Why should I?"
He put the Luger down on the desk and slapped it with his open palm. "This," he said. "And I might make it worth your while."
"That's the spirit. Leave the gun out of it. I can always hear the sound of money. How much are you clinking at me?"
"For doing what?"
"What did you want done?"
He slammed the desk hard. "Listen, soldier. I ask you a question and you ask me another. We're not getting anywhere. I want to know where Geiger is, for my own personal reasons. I didn't like his racket and I didn't protect him. I happen to own this house. I'm not so crazy about that right now. I can believe that whatever you know about all this is under glass, or there would be a flock of johns squeaking sole leather around this dump. You haven't got anything to sell. My guess is you need a little protection yourself. So cough up."
It was a good guess, but I wasn't going to let him know it. I lit a cigarette and blew the match out and flicked it at the glass eye of the totem pole. "You're right," I said. "If anything has happened to Geiger, I'll have to give what I have to the law. Which puts it in the public domain and doesn't leave me anything to sell. So with your permission I'll just drift."
His face whitened under the tan. He looked mean, fast and tough for a moment. He made a movement to lift the gun. I added casually: "By the way, how is Mrs. Mars these days?"
I thought for a moment I had kidded him a little too far. His hand jerked at the gun, shaking. His face was stretched out by hard muscles. "Beat it," he said quite softly. "I don't give a damn where you go or what you do when you get there. Only take a word of advice, soldier. Leave me out of your plans or you'll wish your name was Murphy and you lived in Limerick."
"Well, that's not so far from Clonmel," I said. "I hear you had a pal came from there."
He leaned down on the desk, frozen-eyed, unmoving. I went over to the door and opened it and looked back at him. His eyes had followed me, but his lean gray body had not moved. There was hate in his eyes. I went out and through the hedge and up the hill to my car and got into it. I turned it around and drove up over the crest. Nobody shot at me. After a few blocks I turned off, cut the motor and sat for a few moments. Nobody followed me either. I drove back into Hollywood.