The Mike Hammer Collection

It might have ended then if Mallory hadn’t said, “You lousy rat. You stinking, lousy rat. You’re the one who’s been bleeding me. You son of a bitch.”

Dilwick grinned at me, showing his teeth. “He’s a wise guy, Hammer. Listen to him bawl.”

I didn’t say a word.

Dilwick went over and got my gun from the floor, using his handkerchief on the butt, never taking his eyes from either of us. He looked at me, then Mallory, and before either of us could move sent a shot smashing into Mallory’s chest from my .45. The guy folded over in a quarter roll and was still. Dilwick tossed the still-smoking gun down. “It was nice while it lasted,” he said, “but now it will be even better.”

I waited.

“The boss had a swell racket here. A perfect racket. He paid us off well, but I’m going to take over now. The hell with being a cop. It’ll make a pretty story, don’t you think? I come in here and see you shoot him, then shoot you. Uh-huh, a very pretty story and nobody will blame me. You’ll be wrapped up cold for a double murder, first that copper and now him.”

“Sure,” I said, “but what are you going to do about Grange and her pal?”

Dilwick showed his teeth again. “She’s wanted for York’s murder, isn’t she? Wouldn’t it be sweet if they were found dead in a love tryst? The papers would love that. Boy, what a front-page story if you don’t crowd them off. Grange and her sweetie doing the double Dutch in the drink instead of her cooking for the York kill. That would put a decent end to this mess. I got damn sick and tired of trying to cover up for the boss anyway, and you got in my hair, Hammer.”

“Did I?”

“Don’t get smart. If I had any sense I would have taken care of you myself instead of letting that dumb bunny of a detective bollix up things when you were tailing me on that back road.”

“You wouldn’t have done any better either,” I spat out.

“No? But I will now.” He raised the gun and took deliberate aim at my head.

While he wasted time thumbing back the hammer I tugged the snub-nosed .38 from my waistband that I had taken from the punk with the wrecked face and triggered one into his stomach. His face froze for an instant, the gun sagged, then with all the hatred of his madness he stumbled forward a step, raising his gun to fire.

The .38 roared again. A little blue spot appeared over the bridge of his nose and he went flat on his face.

Mine wasn’t the only gun to speak. Outside there was a continual roar of bullets; screams from the house and commands being shouted into the dark. A car must have tried to pull away and smashed into another. More shots and the tinkling of broken glass. A man’s voice screamed in agony. A tommy went off in short burps blasting everything in its path. Through the door held open by Mallory’s body the brilliant white light of a spotlight turned the night to day and pairs of feet were circling the boathouse.

I shouted, “Price, it’s me, Mike. I’m in here!”

A light shot in the door as hands slid the other opening back. A state trooper with a riot gun pointed at me slid in and I dropped the .38. Price came in behind him. “Damn, you still alive?”

“I look it, don’t I?” Laughing almost drunkenly I slapped him on the shoulder. “Am I glad to see you! You sure took long enough to get here.” Price’s foot stretched out and pushed the body on the floor.

“That’s . . .”

“Dilwick,” I finished. “The other one over there is Mallory.”

“I thought you were going to keep me informed on how things stood,” he said.

“It happened too fast. Besides, I couldn’t be popping in places where I could be recognized.”

“Well, I hope your story’s good, Mike. It had better be. We’re holding people out there with enough influence to swing a state legislature, and if the reason is a phony or even smells like one, you and I are both going to be on the carpet. You for murder.”

“Nuts, what was all the shooting about outside?”

“I got your message such as it was and came up here with three cars of troopers. When we got on the grounds a whole squad of mugs with guns in their hands came ripping around the house. They let go at us before we could get out of the cars and there was hell to pay. The boys came up expecting action and they got it.”

“Those mugs, chum, were after me. I guess they figured I’d try to make a break for it and circled the house. Dilwick was the only one who knew where we’d be. Hell, he should have. I was after Grange and the Cook girl and he had them in here.”

“Now you tell me. Go on and finish it.”