The Mike Hammer Collection - Mickey Spillane [174]
“Thanks, Sergeant. If I can help, I will. But you’d better not let Dilwick get wise. He’d do anything to stymie you if he heard about this.”
“That pig,” Price grunted. “Tell me, what are you going to do?”
“The same thing you are. See what became of the Grange dame. She seems to be the key figure right now. You putting out a dragnet?”
“When you called, a roadblock was thrown across the highways. A seven-state alarm is on the Teletype this minute. She won’t get far. Do you know anything of her personally?”
“Only that she’s supposed to be the quiet type. York told me that she frequents the library a lot, but I doubt if you’ll find her there. I’ll see what I can pick up at the house. If I latch on to anything about her I’ll buzz you.”
I said so long and went downstairs. Right now the most important thing in my life was getting some sleep. I felt like I hadn’t seen a pillow in months. A pair of young troopers leaned against the fender of a blue Caddy sedan parked down further from my heap. They were comparing notes and talking back and forth. I’d better remind Billy to come get it.
The sun was thumbing its nose at the night when I reached the estate. Early-morning trucks that the gas station attendant had spoken of were on the road to town, whizzing by at a good clip. I honked my horn at the gate until Henry came out, still chewing on his breakfast.
He waved. “So it was you. I wondered who opened the gates. Why didn’t you get me up?”
I drove alongside him and waited until he swallowed. “Henry, did you hear me go out last night?”
“Me? Naw, I slept like a log. Ever since the kid was gone I couldn’t sleep thinking that it was all my fault because I sleep so sound, but last night I felt pretty good.”
“You must have. Two cars went out, the first one was your boss.”
“York? Where’d he go?”
“To town.”
He shifted uneasily from one foot to the other. “Do . . . do you think he’ll be sore because I didn’t hear him?”
I shook my head. “I don’t think so. In fact, I don’t think he wanted to be heard.”
“When’s he coming back?”
“He won’t. He’s dead.” I left him standing there with his mouth open. The next time he’d be more careful of those gates.
I raced the engine outside the house and cut it. If that didn’t wake everyone in the house the way I slammed the door did. Upstairs I heard a few indignant voices sounding off behind closed doors. I ran up the stairs and met Roxy at the top, holding a quilted robe together at her middle.
She shushed me with her hand. “Be quiet, please. The boy is still asleep.” It was going to be hard on him when he woke up.
“Just get up, Roxy?”
“A moment ago when you made all the noise out front. What are you doing up?”
“Never mind. Everybody still around?”
“How should I know? Why, what’s the matter?”
“York’s been murdered.”
Her hand flew to her mouth. For a long second her breath caught in her throat. “W . . . who did it?” she stammered.
“That’s what I’d like to know, Roxy.”
She bit her lip. “It . . . it was like we were talking about, wasn’t it?”
“Seems to be. The finger’s on Myra Grange now. It happened in her apartment and she took a powder.”
“Well, what will we do?”
“You get the gang up. Don’t tell them anything, just that I want to see them downstairs in the living room. Go ahead.”
Roxy was glad to be doing something. She half ran to the far end of the hall and threw herself into the first room. I walked around to Ruston’s door and tried it. Locked. Roxy’s door was open and I went in that way, closing it behind me, then stepped softly to the door of the adjoining room and went in.
Ruston was fast asleep, a slight smile on his face as he played in his dreams. The covers were pulled up under his chin making him look younger than his fourteen