She laughed softly. “You’re an ex-con who got kicked off the police force for murdering a man. Do you think that makes you something special? You think I’ll get down on my knees for a creep like you? Get this straight now, Buster: if I see Red Evans that’s my business. He could be a murderer fifty times over and he’d still be a better man than you are.”
Something in her manner puzzled him; she was relishing this moment, chin raised, eyes flashing, playing it as if she were facing an audience.
“You could get hurt in this deal,” he said, watching her closely. “Hasn’t that occurred to you?”
“I’m scared to death,” she said.
Retnick caught her suddenly by the shoulders and jerked her close to him. “I’ll bet you don’t want to get hurt,” he said softly.
The speed and power in his hands had wiped the wise little sneer from her face; she stared up at him, breathing unevenly, terrified by the strange look in his eyes.
“Don’t,” she whispered, and her eyes flicked past him to the closed bedroom door. It was an involuntary betrayal; she looked quickly back at Retnick, a new fear touching her face.
An audience, Retnick thought, and a little shock went through him. They weren’t alone.
He heard the metallic whisper as the doorknob turned and he saw the straining effort Dixie was making to keep her eyes on his face. Raising his voice he said, “You said you’d finger him for a thousand bucks. So why stall? You want more dough?”
“Don’t move,” a voice behind him said quietly. “That’s good. Now take your dirty hands off her. And don’t turn around.”
Retnick released the girl and she backed away from him, grinning with relief. She rubbed her thin shoulders and said, “We’ll see what a big man you are now, Buster.”
Fast expert hands went over Retnick’s clothes and body. Then the voice said, “Okay, big shot, let’s look at you.”
As Retnick turned, a fist struck the side of his face and the sharp edge of a ring slashed across the cheek bone. The man who struck him stepped back quickly, the gun in his hand centered on Retnick’s stomach. “All right, start something,” he said, smiling faintly.
Retnick touched his cheek and felt the warm blood under his fingers. “You’re Red Evans, eh?” he said.
“Yeah, that’s it. How come everybody thinks you’re dumb? You sound real sharp to me.”
Evans was a tall man with sloping shoulders and a loose, reckless mouth. His hair was bright red, and he needed a shave; the lamplight glinted on the blond whiskers along his heavy jaw. He wore a gaily colored sports shirt with dark slacks, and his brown eyes looked muddy and dangerous.
“The love tap was necessary,” he said, balancing himself on the balls of his feet and keeping a safe distance from Retnick. “My story goes like this: you broke in, started beating up my friend and I had to kill you in self-defense. Does it sound all right? You used to be a cop. You should be a good judge.”
Retnick shrugged. “It sounds okay. But what’s your story for Ragoni? Did you kill him in self-defense too?”
“I don’t need any story for Ragoni,” Evans said, and he wasn’t smiling any more. “I never touched him. But it annoyed me when I heard you were talking pretty loud about me and Ragoni. That kind of talk can cause trouble. I checked with Amato and he told me you got this delusion I killed your pal. So I decided to come over and set you straight.”
“You didn’t trust Amato to handle it, eh?”
Evans said gently, “They sounded a little scared of you. Tough cop and all that crap. But things like that don’t scare me, Retnick.”
“Before you shoot you’d better be sure your chum here will back up the story.”
Evans smiled at Dixie. “She’ll back me up, she’s smart.”
“Sure, she’s smart,” Retnick said. “She offered to lead me to you for a thousand bucks.”
Dixie laughed softly. “Did I, big shot? Did I lead you to him? Or was it the other way around?”
“She held out for more dough,” Retnick said, watching Evans. He had little hope this would work. They weren’t fools; they were shrewd and tough and ruthless.
“So she’s double-crossing me,” Evans said, with a sigh. He looked sadly at Dixie. “You’re a naughty one, selling out the old redhead.”
“It’s funny,” Retnick said, hardening his voice. “Real funny. Cops make most of their pinches because clowns like you have such fine senses of humor. How do you suppose I knew you killed Ragoni? You think I heard that on a newscast?”
Evans’ expression changed slightly. He still smiled, but a wary glint appeared in his muddy eyes. “Okay, big shot, where’d you hear it?”
“Ask her,” Retnick said.
“Sure,” Evans said slowly. “I’ll ask her. Dixie knows better than to kid around with me.”
“He’s just trying to steam you up, Red,” Dixie said. One thin hand moved uneasily along the seam of her skirt. “I never told him anything.”
“But he knows something,” Evans said, looking thoughtfully at Retnick. “If he ain’t guessing, then somebody’s been talking.”
“I’m guessing, sure,” Retnick said. “I guess Mario Amato paid you to do the job on Ragoni. And I guess it was Mario who got you the job on the winch in Ragoni’s crew. And I guess it was just damn carelessness when you almost hit him with a load of freight.” He smiled coldly at Evans. “You want me to keep guessing?”
“You know about Mario Amato, eh?” Evans said. He looked genuinely puzzled. “Who’s been talking to you?”
“Ask her,” Retnick said.
Evans sighed deeply. “You goofed that time, big shot. I never told her about Mario.”
“Somebody did,” Retnick said. “Before you blast me and hit tomorrow’s front pages, ask yourself who’s been spreading the news about you.”
“Red, wake up!” Dixie cried. “He’s just stalling. Can’t you see that?”
“Something cute is going on,” Evans said. He looked mad and dangerous. “Come here, baby. Don’t cross in front of him or you’ll get a bullet through you.”
“What do you want?”
“Just come here.”
When she reached his side he put an arm around her and twisted his fingers into her hair. His eyes and gun stayed on Retnick. “I want to get things straight,” he said, very quietly. “We’ll take our time and find out what’s going on. You first, Dixie,” he said, and forced her head back until the tendons in her throat stood out tightly under the white skin.
“Red, don’t!”
“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said. “I just want you nice and quiet. Now listen: if you talked to anybody I got to know about it. Understand me? Maybe somebody put pressure on you or offered you a big payoff. That’s okay. I don’t care if you talked. But I got to know if I’m being fitted for a frame.”
“Red, I swear to God,” she cried.
“Let me finish. If you squealed say so. I won’t hurt you. But I got to know.”
“I swear I never talked, Red. Stop it, please.”
“I think I believe you, baby,” Evans said, watching Retnick with his muddy, dangerous eyes. “Now it’s your turn, big shot. Where’d you get your information?”
Unconsciously, his hand tightened in Dixie’s hair, and she said hoarsely, “For God’s sake, Red, stop it!” The words were thick with pain in her straining throat, and tears started in her eyes. She tried to drive a sharply pointed heel into his foot, and then her right knee jerked upward in a spasmodic, convulsive reaction and knocked his gun hand into the air.
Retnick was on him like an animal. He caught Evans’ upraised wrist with one hand, his throat with the other, and slammed him backward across the room. The rush of his body knocked the girl spinning to the floor and sent a chair crashing crazily onto its side. Evans’ body struck the wall with a crash, and Retnick saw the dazed pain and fear streak into his eyes when his head snapped against the wall.