I looked at her, not touching her, taking in the lovely slope of her breasts that were swelled with emotion and tipped with the firm pinkness of passion. I could smell the fragrant heat of her only inches away, and as I watched, her stomach undulated and moved spasmodically against the waistband of her skirt.
"How am I... as a woman, Mike?"
"Lovely," I told her. I reached for her, turned her around, them lay her as she was, half naked, across my lap, my fingers caught in her hair, touching her gently at first, then with firm insistence that made her shudder.
She raised herself against me, twisting her head, searching for my mouth until she found it, then with a small whimper she was part of me, her lips a ripe, succulent fruit, her tongue an alive, vital organ that was a soul seeking another soul. I let her fall away from me reluctantly, her mouth still working as though it were kissing mine yet, her eyes closed, her breath coming heavily.
Someplace in the house a clock chimed and a dull rumble of thunder outside echoed it. I let my hand run down the naked expanse of her stomach until the tips of my fingers traced a path across her waist under the skirt. She moaned softly and sucked in her breath so there would be a looseness at her belt. I felt her briefly, kneaded the pliant flesh, then took my hand away.
Her eyes opened, she smiled once and closed them again. Then she was asleep. It had been a hard day for her too. I held her until I was sure she wouldn't awaken, then raised her, propped a cushion beneath her shoulders, and let her down onto it. I covered her with her blouse and a plaid car blanket that was folded over the back of a chair.
In the morning she'd feel better. She'd hate me maybe, but then again, maybe not. I went upstairs and checked Sue. She had turned on her side and the oversized stuffed toy was almost crushed beneath her.
I called a cab in from town, let myself out, and waited, by the gate. The cop on the beat asked me if everything was all right and I told him the women were both asleep and to stay on his toes. He still couldn't read me but with the card I carried he wasn't taking any chances. He saluted cordially and walked off into the darkness.
Inspector Grebb should have seen that, I thought. He'd flip. He'd sooner I got a boot in the tail.
When the cab came he didn't want to take me clean into the city so I changed cabs at the George Washington Bridge and gave that driver the address of my new apartment. I started to grin, thinking of what Velda would do if she knew where I was an hour ago. Hell, she never would believe me if I told her the truth anyway, so why say a word? But you can't go through two of those deals in one night and stand up to it. If Velda were there I hoped she was sacked out tight. Right then I needed sleep more than anything I could think of.
I paid the cab off and went inside. The place was freshly renovated and smelled of paint. I took the automatic elevator to the third floor, found my new apartment at the very end of the hall, and stuck the key in the lock. There was a soft glow from a table lamp at the end of the couch in the living room and a radio was playing softly. From where I stood I could see her stretched out comfortable and laughed to myself. Velda had determination, but sleep had won out. She got the couch and I got the bed this time. Tomorrow she'd sizzle, but she'd still be waiting.
I went in on the balls of my feet, walking quietly so as not to waken her, but I couldn't help looking at her as I passed. And when I saw her I turned ice cold inside because she wasn't just asleep at all. Somebody had brought something down across her temple turning it into a livid welt that oozed dark blood under her ear into her hairline.
I grabbed her, said "Velda!" once, then she let out a little meowing sound and her eyes flicked open. She tried to talk but couldn't and it was her eyes that got the message across. I looked up to the side where he stood with one hand holding his belly and the other a gun and he had it pointed right at my head.
Marv Kania had finally found me.
His eyes had death in them, his and mine. His belly was bloated and I could smell the stench of a festering wound, the sickening odor of old blood impregnated into cloth. There was a wildness in his face and his mouth was a tight slash that showed all his teeth. Marv Kania was young, but right there he was as old as death itself.
"I was waiting for you, mister."
Slowly, I got up. I was going to have to pull against a drawn gun and there wasn't a chance I could make it. He was dying, but the gun in his hand was there with the deft skill of the professional and it never wavered an inch. He let the muzzle drift down from my head until it pointed at my stomach.
"Right where I got it, man, and there's no coming back after that. Everything inside goes. You'll live a little while and you'll hurt like I hurt. You try to move away from it and I put one more in your head."
I was thinking fast, wondering how fast I could move away from the shot. He knew what I was going to do and grinned through the pain he felt. Just to let me know I it was no good he made two quick wrist motions to show he still had it and I had it, then he thumbed, the hammer back.
"The girl. What about her?"
"What do you care? You'll be dead."
"What about her?"
His face was a mask of pain and hate. "I'll tell you what I'm going to do. With her she gets one shot. Same as you. Then I go outside and die. Out in the rain, just so long as I don't die in no crummy room. In the park, that's where I die. I always wanted to die there." His eyes half shut momentarily as a spasm of pain took him, then he snapped them open and grinned, his teeth bare against his gums.
Velda turned on the couch, whispering my name softly. She must have come in when he was there. He held a gun on her, belted her out, and kept on waiting. Now he was going to kill her along with me.
"You ready, you bastard?"
I didn't move. I just stood there hoping Velda could do something while my own body half shielded her from him, hoping she could move fast enough to get the hell out. He saw that too and started to laugh. It was so funny to him with all the hate bottled up inside he laughed even harder as he aimed the rod with every ounce of professional technique he ever had.
And it was the laugh that did it. The laugh that broke the last thing inside. The laugh that burst the lifeline. He felt it go and his eyes went so wide the whites of them showed the horror he felt because he was still a loser and before he could put that final fraction of pressure on the trigger the gun dropped from his hand and he pitched face down on the floor with a sickening squashing sound as some ghastly, putrescent fluid burst from his belly.
I picked Velda up, carried her into the bedroom, and washed the blood from her temple. Then I loosened her clothes and pulled the blanket over her before flopping down on the bed beside her.
Outside I had another dead man at my feet, but he was going to have to wait until morning.
Chapter Eight
Pat was there at nine in the morning. So was Inspector Grebb and Charles Force. Pat's face told me he had, no choice so I threw him a brief nod so he knew I got the picture.
The police photographers got all the shots they wanted, the body was carried out, Velda had a doctor in with her, and Grebb pointed at a chair for me and sat down himself.
"You've been a thorn in our side, Hammer," he said pleasantly.
"Tough."
"But I think we have you nailed now."
"For failing to report a body?"
"It's enough. You don't step that far outside and still get a gun-carrying privilege. It will break you with that fancy agency because they like closed mouths about their operations. They lift your ticket and you're back in the ranks again."
Charlie Force was standing there with that same old courtroom smile, like his bait had caught the fish. I said, "I warned you, Charlie."