"Wha' happen?" he asked brightly.
"Get rid of the knucks," I said, watching his eyes.
He looked surprisingly down at his hand. He slipped the mauler off and threw it casually in the corner.
"Now the gun belt," I said. "Don't touch the guns, just the buckle."
"They're not loaded," he said smiling. "Hell, they're not even guns, just stage money."
"The belt. Hurry it."
He looked at the short-barreled.32. "That a real orne? Oh sure it is. The screen. Yeah, the screen."
The man on the bed wasn't on the bed any more. He was behind Earl. He reached swiftly and pulled one of the bright guns loose. Earl didn't like this. His face showed it.
"Lay off him," I said angrily. "Put that back where you got it."
"He's right," Wade said. "They're cap guns." He backed away and put the shiny pistol on the table. "Christ, I'm as weak as a broken arm."
"Take the belt off," I said for'the third time. When you start something with a type like Earl you have to finish it. Keep it simple and don't change your mind.
He did it at last, quite amiably. Then, holding the belt, he walked over to the table and got his other gun and put it in the holster and put the belt right back on again. I let him do it. It wasn't until then that he saw Dr. Verringer crumpled on the floor against the wall. He made a sound of concern, went quickly across the room into the bathroom, and came back with a glass jug of water. He dumped the water on Dr. Verringer's head. Dr. Verringer sputtered and rolled over. Then he groaned. Then he clapped a hand.to his jaw. Then he started to get up. Earl helped him.
"Sorry, Doc. I must have just let fly without seeing who it was."
"It's all right, nothing broken," Verringer said, waving him away. "Get the car up here, Earl. And don't forget the key for the padlock down below."
"Car up here, sure. Right away. Key for the padlock. I got it. Right away, Doc."
He went out of the room whistling.
Wade was sitting on the side of the bed, looking shaky. "You the dick he was talking about?" he asked me. "How did you find me?"
"Just asking around from people who know about these things," I said. -"If you want to get home, you might get clothes on."
Dr. Vetringer was leaning against the wall, massaging his jaw. "I'll help him," he said thickly. "All I do is help people and all they do is kick me in the teeth."
"I know just how you feel," I said.
I went out and left them to work at it.
20
The car was close by when they came out, but Earl was gone. He had stopped the car, cut the lights, and walked back towards the big cabin without saying anything to me. He was still whistling, groping for some half-remembered tune.
Wade climbed carefully into the back seat and I got in beside him. Dr. Verringer drove. If his jaw hurt badly and his head ached, he didn't show it or mention it. We went over the ridge and sown to the end of the graveled drive. Earl had already been down and unlocked the gate and pulled it open. I told Verringer where my car was and he pulled up dose to it. Wade got into it and sat silent, staring at nothing. Verringer got out and went round beside him. He spoke to Wade gently.
"About my five thousand dollars, Mr. Wade. The check you promised me."
Wade slid down and rested his head on the back of the seat. "I'll think about it."
"You promised it. I need it."
"Duress, the word is, Verringer, a threat of harm. I have protection now."
"I fed and washed you," Verringer persisted. "I came in the night. I protected you, I cured you-for the time being, at least."
"Not five grand worth," Wade sneered. "You got plenty out of my pockets."
Verringer wouldn't let go. "I have a promise of a connection in Cuba, Mr. Wade. You are a rich man. You should help others in their need. I have Earl to look after. To avail myself of this opportunity I need the money. I will pay it back in full."
I began to squirm. I wanted to smoke, but I was afraid it would make Wade sick.
"Like hell you'd pay it back," Wade said wearily. "You won't live long enough. One of these nights Blue Boy will kill you in your sleep."
Verringer stepped back. I couldn't see his expression, but his voice hardened.- "There are more unpleasant ways to die," he said. "I think yours will be one of them."
He walked back to his car and got into it. He drove in through his gates and was gone. I backed and turned and headed towards the city. After a mile or two Wade muttered: "Why should I give that fat slob five thousand dollars?"
"No reason at all."
"Then why do I feel like a bastard for not giving it to him?"
"No reason at all."
He turned his head just enough to look at me. "He handled me like a baby," Wade said. "He hardly left me alone for fear Earl would come in and beat me up. He took every dime I had in my pockets."
"You probably told him to."
"You on his side?"
"Skip, it," I said. "This is just a job to me."
Silence for a couple of miles more. We went past the fringe of one of the outlying suburbs. Wade spoke again.
"Maybe I'll give it to him. He's broke. The property is foreclosed. He won't get a dime out of it. All on account of that psycho. Why does he do it?"
"I wouldn't know."
"I'm a writer," Wade said. "I'm supposed to understand what makes people tick. I don't understand one damn thing about anybody."
I turned over the pass and after a climb the lights of the valley spread out endlessly in front of us. We dipped down- to the highway north and west that goes to Ventura. After a while we passed through Encino. I stopped for a light and looked up towards the lights high on the hill where the big houses were. In one of them the Lennoxes had lived. We went on.
"The turn-off is pretty close now," Wade said. "Or do you know it?"
"I know it."
"By the way, you haven't told me your name."
"Philip Marlowe."
"Nice name." His voice changed sharply, saying: "Wait a minute. You the guy that was mixed up with Lennox?"
"Yeah."
He was staring at me in the darkness of the car. We passed the last buildings on the main drag of Encino.
"I knew her," Wade said. "A little. Him I never saw. Queer business, that. The law boys gave you the rough edge, didn't they?"
I didn't answer him.
"Maybe you don't like to talk about it," he said.
"Could be. Why would it interest you?"
"Hell, I'm a writer. It must be quite a story."
"Take tonight off. You must be feeling pretty weak."
"Okay, Marlowe. Okay. You don't like me. I get it."
We reached the turn-off and I swung the car into it and towards the low hills and the gap between them that was Idle Valley.
"I don't either like you or dislike you," I said. "I don't know you. Your wife asked me to find you and bring you home. When I deliver you at your house I'm through. Why she picked on me I couldn't say. Like I said, it's just a job."
We turned the flank of a hill and hit a wider, more firmly paved road. He said his house was a mile farther on, on the right side. He told me the number, which I already knew. For a guy in his shape he was a pretty persistent talker.
"How much is she paying you?" he asked,
"We didn't discuss it."
"Whatever it is, it's not enough. I owe you a lot of thanks. You did a great job, chum. I wasn't worth the trouble."
"That's just the way you feel tonight."
He laughed. "You know something, Marlowe? I could get to like you. You're a bit of a bastard-like me."
We reached the house. It was a two-story over-all shingle house with a small pillared portico and a long lawn from the entrance to a thick row of shrubs inside the white fence. There was a light in the portico. I pulled into the driveway and stopped close to the garage.
"Can you make it without help?"
"Of course." He got out of the car. "Aren't you coming in for a drink or something?"