The Black Lizard Big Book of Pulps

I went to the back, crossed the stone court, carefully up-ended an ash can, stood upon it and rapped myself a little hole in the window pane. No feeling for electric burglar alarm wires. No need of that. I had been in that room too often not to know. Rudolph Myer knew crooks. He was a firm believer in that saying that any crook who wanted “in” got “in” — if he wanted “in” bad enough.

Well, I’m no crook, but I wanted “in” bad enough. I just stuck my fingers through the hole, snapped back the window lock, lifted it carefully, slowly, silently, and stepped into the room. My rubber soled shoes made no noise across the linoleum of the kitchen and even less noise as I crossed the thick rug of the dining room, through to the hall and onto the wooden stairs. I picked the front stairs because, well, they were less likely to make noise — had no door bottom and top — and besides which, they would bring me up to the hall and close to that door, the door of the room from which I thought that tiny light had peeped.

All stairs are creaky, of course, no exception to this old outfit. But I had luck, in a way. Some one was moving around up stairs — some one was moving quickly, furtively, quietly back and forth, back and forth across the floor.

I made the upper hall, took a couple of quick steps down it, guided by a light from a partly open door, and stopped dead before that door as the quickly moving feet inside ceased, and some one seemed to listen.

Then it wasn’t “seemed” any more. Some one was listening. For the person in that room had held his breath, and then let it go again in a sort of whistling sound.

Finally the feet crossed to the door, paused, fingers reached to the side of the door and pushed it open wider, and I stepped through the opening and faced Rudolph Myer.

Certainly he was surprised. Maybe even shocked. He rubbed his hands across his eyes as if he wasn’t sure, then half straightened his bent shoulders and tried playing at the corners of his mouth with the thumb and index finger of his right hand. He was fully dressed, and a hat and top coat lay over the end of the bed.

“Surprise!” I said, closed the door behind me and spun the key in the lock. Then I looked around the room as he backed away from me. One suitcase already packed stood shut by the bed. It had heavy straps around it. The other was a big affair and needed another shirt or a couple of socks before locking. There was little doubt that Rudolph intended to go bye-bye. Five minutes later and—. But I hadn’t been five minutes later. Why dwell on that?

And Rudolph Myer spoke first.

“Race, Race Williams. How did you get in? And why?”

“And the answer is— Who cares? I won’t waste time, Myer.” I backed him across the room, my eyes on him. “You two-timing skunk! After all these years you sell me out. You left the house of Colonel McBride tonight with McBride. You trapped him into the hands of the Gorgons. You two-timed him as you did me.”

“I didn’t,” he cried out. “It’s a lie. Before God I swear I didn’t.”

And I had him by the throat, forced him to his knees.

“Don’t try to lie out of it. My boy, Jerry, was down the block and saw you. They’re torturing McBride,” I told him, and my voice shook. “You know me, Myer. I don’t have to threaten you. You’ve kidded me about my shooting, for I’ve paid you well. Now, you double-crossed me and I’m going to kill you, kill you.” I squeezed his throat tighter, saw his eyes bulge, watched his tongue protrude, then I thrust him from me. Disgusted? Maybe. Through with him? Not me.

Rudolph Myer stretched a hand, let it slip into his open suitcase and half pulled out an automatic. I liked that. He couldn’t possibly believe he had a chance against me with a gun, yet he tried to get one. Why? Because he was afraid. He read the truth in my blazing eyes.

I didn’t fire. I simply leaned over and rapped his knuckles with the nose of my forty-four. Then I kicked his gun under the bed and told him what was on my chest.

“Listen, Myer.” And I didn’t have to do any acting to get my part over. “Understand this. I’ve come here tonight for the purpose of killing you.”

“That would be — murder.” He half lay, half knelt on the floor.

“You can’t murder a rat,” I told him. “Anyway, what difference does the name it goes by matter to you, or to me either? No one saw me come here. No one will see me go. And don’t be thinking up wise cracks. Let me tell you what I know.

“You got me into this Gorgon case, because the Gorgons knew I was coming in anyway. You found out that McBride was coming on, to help the Commissioner. You knew that O’Rourke had been after the Gorgons for years. Michelle Gorgon probably told you. He has a way of hearing things, through crooked officials, and crooked, shyster lawyers, like you.

“You knew where McBride planned to take Giovoni, to Elrod’s Sanitarium. You told Gorgon and he had him murdered. And it was you who told me The Flame wanted to see me at her rooms, and you, alone, who knew I was going to meet The Flame there. Then you told the Gorgons, or at least, Eddie Gorgon, and you let Eddie think that The Flame sent the message. I don’t know why, I don’t care why, but you did it again at Maria’s Cafe, and Eddie Gorgon died. You somehow got McBride out of his house tonight and into the Gorgon trap. I don’t know how you did it, why you did it, though I guess you were paid for it.”