The Mike Hammer Collection - Mickey Spillane [16]
“The next day Marta Civac was found in the river, shot in the head, her jewels gone and neither her husband nor Velda was ever seen again.”
I had to stop there. I didn’t want to think on the next part anymore. I was hoping it would be enough for him, but when I looked up he was frowning with thought, digesting it a little at a time like he was diagnosing a disease, and I knew it wasn’t finished yet.
He said, “They were abducted for the purpose of stealing those gems?”
“It was the only logical way they could do it. There were too many people. One scream would bring them running. They probably threatened the three of them, told them to move on out quietly where the theft could be done without interruption and allow the thieves to get away.”
“Would Velda have gone along with them?”
“If they threatened the client that’s the best way. It’s better to give up insured gems than get killed. Even a rap on the head can kill if it isn’t done right and, generally speaking, jewel thieves aren’t killers unless they’re pushed.”
I felt a shudder go through my shoulders. “No. The body—showed why.” I paused and he sat patiently, waiting. “Marta was a pudgy dame with thick fingers. She had crammed on three rings worth a hundred grand combined and they weren’t about to come off normally. To get the rings they had severed the fingers.”
Softly, he remarked, “I see.”
“It was lousy.”
“What do you think happened, Mike?”
I was going to hate to tell him, but it had been inside too long. I said, “Velda advised them to go along thinking it would be a heist without any physical complications. Probably when they started to take the rings off the hard way the woman started to scream and was shot. Then her husband and Velda tried to help her and that was it.”
“Was what?”
I stared at the ceiling. Before it had been so plain, so simple. Totally believable because it had been so totally terrible. For all those years I had conditioned myself to think only one way because in my job you got to know which answers were right.
Now, suddenly, maybe they weren’t right anymore.
Larry asked, “So they killed the man and Velda too and their bodies went out to sea and were never found?”
My tired tone was convincing. I said, “That’s how the report read.”
“So Pat took it all out on you.”
“Looks that way.”
“Uh-huh. You let her go on a job you should have handled yourself.”
“It didn’t seem that way at first.”
“Perhaps, but you’ve been taking it out on yourself too. It just took that one thing to make you a bum.”
“Hard words, friend.”
“You realize what happened to Pat?”
I glanced at him briefly and nodded. “I found out.”
“The hard way.”
“So I didn’t think he cared.”
“You probably never would have known if that didn’t happen.”
“Kismet, buddy. Like your getting punched in the mouth.”
“But there’s a subtle difference now, Mikey boy, isn’t there?”
“Like how?” I turned my head and watched him. He was the type who could hide his thoughts almost completely, even to a busted-up pro like me, but it didn’t quite come off. I knew what he was getting to.
“Something new has been added, Mike.”
“Oh?”
“You were a sick man not many hours ago.”
“I’m hurting right now.”
“You know what I’m talking about. You were a drunk just a little while back.”
“So I kicked the habit.”
“Why?”
“Seeing old friends helped.”
He smiled at me, leaned forward and crossed his arms. “What did that guy tell you?”
“Nothing,” I lied.
“I think I know. I think I know the only reason that would turn you from an acute alcoholic to a deadly sober man in a matter of minutes.”
I had to be sure. I had to see what he knew. I said, “Tell me, Doc.”
Larry stared at me a moment, smiled smugly and sat back, enjoying every second of the scene. When he thought my reaction would be just right he told me, “That guy mentioned the name of the killer.”
So he couldn’t see my face I turned my head. When I looked at him again he was still smiling, so I looked at the ceiling without