"Listen, kid," Brody whined. "Listen a minute "
The blonde spat at me and threw herself on my leg and tried to bite that. I cracked her on the head with the gun, not very hard, and tried to stand up. She rolled down my legs and wrapped her arms around them. I fell back on the davenport. The blonde was strong with the madness of love or fear, or a mixture of both, or maybe she was just strong.
Brody grabbed for the little revolver that was so close to his face. He missed. The gun made a sharp rapping noise that was not very loud. The bullet broke glass in a folded-back French window. Brody groaned horribly and fell down on the floor and jerked Carmen's feet from under her. She landed in a heap and the little revolver went skidding off into a corner. Brody jumped up on his knees and reached for his pocket.
I bit Agnes on the head with less delicacy than before, kicked her off my feet, and stood up. Brody flicked his eyes at me. I showed him the automatic. He stopped trying to get his hand into his pocket.
"Christ!" he whined. "Don't let her kill me!"
I began to laugh. I laughed like an idiot, without control. Blonde Agnes was sitting up on the floor with her hands flat on the carpet and her mouth wide open and a wick of metallic blond hair down over her right eye. Carmen was crawling on her hands and knees, still hissing. The metal of her little revolver glistened against the baseboard over in the corner. She crawled towards it rentlessly.
I waved my share of the guns at Brody and said: "Stay put. You're all right."
I stepped past the crawling girl and picked the gun up. She looked up at me and began to giggle. I put her gun in my pocket and patted her on the back. "Get up, angel. You look like a Pekinese."
I went over to Brody and put the automatic against his midriff and reached his Colt out of his side pocket. I now had all the guns that had been exposed to view. I stuffed them into my pockets and held my hand out to him.
"Give."
He nodded, licking his lips, his eyes still scared. He took a fat envelope out of his breast pocket and gave it to me. There was a developed plate in the envelope and five glossy prints.
"Sure these are all?"
He nodded again. I put the envelope in my own breast pocket and turned away. Agnes was back on the davenport, straightening her hair. Her eyes ate Carmen with a green distillation of hate. Carmen was up on her feet too, coming towards me with her hand out, still giggling and hissing. There was a little froth at the corners of her mouth. Her small white teeth glinted close to her lips.
"Can I have them now?" she asked me with a coy smile.
"I'll take care of them for you. Go on home."
"Home?"
I went to the door and looked out. The cool night breeze was blowing peacefully down the hall. No excited neighbors hung out of doorways. A small gun had gone off and broken a pane of glass, but noises like that don't mean much any more. I held the door open and jerked my head at Carmen. She came towards me, smiling uncertainly.
"Go on home and wait for me," I said soothingly.
She put her thumb up. Then she nodded and slipped past me into the hail. She touched my cheek with her fingers as she went by. "You'll take care of Carmen, won't you?" she cooed.
"Check."
"You're cute."
"What you see is nothing," I said. "I've got a Bali dancing girl tattooed on my right thigh."
Her eyes rounded. She said: "Naughty," and wagged a finger at me. Then she whispered: "Can I have my gun?"
"Not now. Later. I'll bring it to you."
She grabbed me suddenly around the neck and kissed me on the mouth. "I like you," she said. "Carmen likes you a lot." She ran off down the hall as gay as a thrush, waved at me from the stairs and ran down the stairs out of my sight.
I went back into Brody's apartment.
16
I went over to the folded-back French window and looked at the small broken pane in the upper part of it. The bullet from Carmen's gun had smashed the glass like a blow. It had not made a hole. There was a small hole in the plaster which a keen eye would find quickly enough. I pulled the drapes over the broken pane and took Carmen's gun out of my pocket. It was a Banker's Special, .22 caliber, hollow point cartridges. It had a pearl grip, and a small round silver plate set into the butt was engraved: "Carmen from Owen." She made saps of all of them.
I put the gun back in my pocket and sat down close to Brody and stared into his bleak brown eyes. A minute passed. The blonde adjusted her face by the aid of a pocket mirror. Brody fumbled around with a cigarette and jerked: "Satisfied?"
"So far. Why did you put the bite on Mrs. Regan instead of the old man?"
"Tapped the old man once. About six, seven months ago. I figure maybe he gets sore enough to call in some law."
"What made you think Mrs. Regan wouldn't tell him about it?"
He considered that with some care, smoking his cigarette and keeping his eyes on my face. Finally he said: "How well you know her?"
"I've met her twice. You must know her a lot better to take a chance on that squeeze with the photo."
"She skates around plenty. I figure maybe she has a couple of soft spots she don't want the old man to know about. I figure she can raise five grand easy."
"A little weak," I said. "But pass it. You're broke, eh?"
"I been shaking two nickels together for a month, trying to get them to mate."
"What you do for a living?"
"Insurance. I got desk room in Puss Walgreen's office, Fulwider Building, Western and Santa Monica."
"When you open up, you open up. The books here in your apartment?"
He snapped his teeth and waved a brown hand. Confidence was oozing back into his manner. "Hell, no. In storage."
"You had a man bring them here and then you had a storage outfit come and take them away again right afterwards?"
"Sure. I don't want them moved direct from Geiger's place, do I?"
"You're smart," I said admiringly. "Anything incriminating in the joint right now?"
He looked worried again. He shook his head sharply.
"That's fine," I told him. I looked across at Agnes. She had finished fixing her face and was staring at the wall, blank-eyed, hardly listening. Her face had the drowsiness which strain and shock induce, after their first incidence.
Brody flicked his eyes warily. "Well?"
"How'd you come by the photo?"
He scowled. "Listen, you got what you came after, got it plenty cheap. You done a nice neat job. Now go peddle it to your top man. I'm clean. I don't know nothing about any photo, do I, Agnes?"
The blonde opened her eyes and looked at him with vague but uncomplimentary speculation. "A half smart guy," she said with a tired sniff. "That's all I ever draw. Never once a guy that's smart all the way around the course. Never once."
I grinned at her. "Did I hurt your head much?"
"You and every other man I ever met."
I looked back at Brody. He was pinching his cigarette between his fingers, with a sort of twitch. His hand seemed to be shaking a little. His brown poker face was still smooth.
"We've got to agree on a story," I said. "For instance, Carmen wasn't here. That's very important. She wasn't here. That was a vision you saw."
"Huh!" Brody sneered. "If you say so, pal, and if " he put his hand out palm up and cupped the fingers and rolled the thumb gently against the index and middle fingers.
I nodded. "We'll see. There might be a small contribution. You won't count it in grands, though. Now where did you get the picture?"
"A guy slipped it to me."
"Uh-huh. A guy you just passed in the street. You wouldn't know him again. You never saw him before."
Brody yawned. "It dropped out of his pocket," he leered.
"Uh-huh. Got an alibi for last night, poker pan?"
"Sure. I was right here. Agnes was with me. Okey, Agnes?"
"I'm beginning to feel sorry for you again," I said.
His eyes flicked wide and his mouth hung loose, the cigarette balanced on his lower lip.