Goodbye California - Alistair [78]
‘Donahure ain’t going to meet no judge.’ He’d the dialogue right, too. ‘But you’re going to meet your maker. No time for prayers, mister.’
‘You drop that gun,’ said a voice from the doorway.
Obviously the masked man was considerably younger than Ryder, for he didn’t know the right thing to do. He whipped round and loosed off a snap shot at the figure in the doorway. In the circumstances it was a pretty good effort, ripping the cloth on the upper right sleeve of Jeff’s coat. Jeff’s reply was considerably more effective. The man in the mask folded in the middle like a collapsing hinge and crumpled to the floor. Ryder dropped to one knee beside him.
‘I tried for his gun-hand,’ Jeff said uncertainly. ‘Reckon I missed.’
‘You did. Didn’t miss his heart, though.’ Ryder plucked off the handkerchief mask. ‘Well. The shame of it all. Lennie the Linnet has gone riding off across the great divide.’
‘Lennie the Linnet?’ Jeff was visibly shaken.
‘Yes. Linnet. A song-bird. Well, wherever Lennie’s singing now you can take long odds that it won’t be to the accompaniment of a harp.’ Ryder glanced sideways, straightened, took the gun from Jeff’s lax hand and fired, all in seemingly slow motion. For the fifth time that night Donahure cried out in pain. The Colt he’d picked up from the floor spun across the room. Ryder said: ‘Do be quiet. You can still sign the statement. And to the charge of murder we’ll now add one of attempted murder.’
Jeff said: ‘One easy lesson, is that it?’
Ryder touched his shoulder. ‘Well, thanks, anyway.’
‘I didn’t mean to kill him.’
‘Shed no sad tears for Lennie. A heroin pusher. You followed me?’
‘Tried to. Sergeant Parker told me where you were. How did he get here?’
‘Ah, now. If you want Detective Sergeant Ryder at his brilliant best, ask him after the event. I thought our line was tapped so I phoned Parker to meet me at Delmino’s. Never occurred to me they’d put a stake-out there.’
Jeff looked at Donahure. ‘So that’s why you didn’t want me along. He ran into a truck?’
‘Self-inflicted injuries. Now on, you’re welcome along anytime. Get a couple of towels from the bathroom. Don’t want him to bleed to death before his trial.’
Jeff hesitated: he had to tell his father and actively feared for Donahure’s life. ‘Some bad news, Dad. Peggy was shot last night.’
‘Shot?’ The lips compressed whitely. Ryder’s eyes switched to Donahure, the grip on Jeff’s gun tightened, but he was still under his iron control. He looked back at Jeff. ‘Bad?’
‘Don’t know. Bad enough, I should think. Left shoulder.’
Get the towels.’ Ryder lifted the phone, got through to Sergeant Parker. ‘Come out here, will you, Dave? Bring an ambulance, Doc Hinkley’ – Hinkley was the police surgeon – ‘and young Kramer to take a statement. Ask Major Dunne to come. And, Dave – Peggy was shot last night. Through the shoulder.’ He hung up.
Parker passed on the requests to Kramer then went up to see Mahler. Mahler viewed him as he was viewing life at the moment, with a harassed and jaundiced eye.
Parker said: I’m going out to Chief Donahure’s place. Some trouble out there.’
‘What trouble?’
‘Something that calls for an ambulance.’
‘Who said so?’
‘Ryder.’
‘Ryder!’ Mahler pushed back his chair and rose. ‘What the hell is Ryder doing out there?’
‘Didn’t say. I think he wanted a talk with him.’
‘I’ll have him behind bars for this. I’ll take charge of this personally.’
‘I’d like to come, Lieutenant.’
‘You stay here. That’s an order, Sergeant Parker.’
‘Nothing personal, Lieutenant.’ Parker put his badge on the desk. ‘I’m not taking orders any more.’
All five of them arrived together – the two ambulance men, Kramer, Major Dunne and Dr Hinkley. As befitted the occasion Dr Hinkley was in the lead. A small wiry man with darting eyes, he was, if not exactly soured by life, at least possessed of a profoundly cynical resignation. He looked at the recumbent figure on the floor.
‘Good lord! Lennie the Linnet. A black day for America.’ He peered more closely at the white