The Deep
- Автор: Спиллейн Микки
- Год: 1961
- Язык: английский
- Год: E. P. Dutton & Company
- Жанр: Криминальные детективы
Электронная книга - «The Deep». Краткое содержание книги:
Deep was back in town after a twenty-five year exile — to inherit an empire and avenge a death. He and Bennett had made the inheritance pact when they were kids — blood brothers in crime. They had known then that even New York was too small for them both to share, and so they had tossed a coin to determine who would stay and who would build his organization in another town. Deep had lost and gone.
But now Bennett has lost — been murdered in his own home — and Deep is ready to prove lie is strong enough to take over. Deep wants Bennett’s killer; the others want Bennett’s job. And all too many of them — including the beautiful Irish — want Deep dead.
The Deep is the mastermind in one of the most exciting stories Spillane has ever written — a breathtaking tale of violence in action.
“So Benny tried for the big one. He could have killed Bennett then made the grab. Unfortunately, I showed up. I was the only one who could call his bluff. When I did, that left him with egg on his face Now I’m beginning to see how he could have arranged for a couple of boys to come in to knock me off. Cute. Very, very cute.”
The entire thought startled her. It was something she had never figured on. “Then... you think... it was Benny Mattick?”
“I don’t know,” I said, “Let’s go ask him.”
Bracing Benny without a rod to back things up shouldn’t be too hard. As long as he didn’t call the bluff.
Benny-from-Brooklyn had changed boroughs when he was ten but he had never lost his accent. We gave him the tag because we had two other Bennys in the club back then. They both died when they wrecked a stolen car, but Benny-from-Brooklyn stayed Benny-from-Brooklyn anyway.
Now he lived in a converted brownstone off Third Avenue in a fringe area that was scheduled for demolition within a few months. Six buildings from the east end of the block had already been evacuated and two razed into a pile of rubble. A bulldozer was shoving the brick and timbers into separate piles and two men with jackhammers were attacking a huge slab of concrete.
Like most bachelors, Benny had the ground-floor apartment. There were no names on the two other bells at all. I rang Benny’s, waited and rang again. I tried the other two bells and had no luck there. When I went back outside I looked at the windows upstairs and they were blank, curtainless. Either Benny had the place to himself or the others evacuated ahead of the demolition.
Helen asked, “What shall we do now?”
“I won’t waste the trip over, that’s for sure.”
She watched me open the foyer door in a good old-fashioned way. I kicked the lock out and splintered the wood, but I wasn’t worrying about what anyone would say. Benny’s front apartment door was on the right and in case the bell didn’t work outside, I knocked on it with my fist.
Except for the muffled sounds of the construction crew down the block, the place was totally quiet. I didn’t fool around here either. I didn’t mess around with any gimmicks to open the lock when a kick in the right place with two hundred pounds behind it would be faster.
Helen watched me nervously. To her, what I did was a criminal invasion of privacy and as cold-blooded as stepping on a cat. The motions came to me naturally and she could tell that it was a practiced movement and when she looked at me she knew I was enjoying myself and put out a hand to stop me.
But the door was open and I went inside, my hand automatically feeling for the rod that wasn’t there any more.
I saw Benny and shoved her at the second the gun blasted out of the darkness from the comer of the room. Helen smashed into the wall, covered by the corner of it, but there was nothing there for me. I dove flat, rolled, felt my hand close on a small table and I threw it without stopping. There were two more shots that tore into the floor where I was then I heard a scramble from the other room, the slam of a door closing and I got back on my feet.
It was too damn dark. My eyes hadn’t adjusted to the light. They still had a yellow spot in the center from the flash of the gun. I groped my way across the room, found the door and got through. A window stood open looking out into the growing dusk. I took a chance of getting my head blown off and looked out.
I knew what I’d see. Emptiness. An open court-yard exiting into a dozen other buildings. The backyard jungle.
There was no use going after him. I went back in the front room and found the light switch and threw it on. Helen was still crouched breathlessly against the wall. I gripped her hand, pulled her up, then she saw Benny Mattick.
Her eyes widened with the initial shock of seeing a dead man and her fingers bit into my wrist like talons.
She still couldn’t believe it. “Is he...”
“Very much so.” I stood over him, looking into those death-glazed eyes that were slitted open. There were two closely spaced holes in his chest right over the heart and he had died so quickly that little blood had spilled out and there was only a small stain on his shirt.
“Did you... see who it was?”
I turned around. Helen was trembling now, her hand at her mouth. I said, “No, I missed him.”
“What will we do?” The shock was evident in the sound of her voice.
“Let me think a minute.”
“The police...”
“No. Not yet. I need time. Damn it, we can’t afford to get tied into another kill together!”
I thought back over the time element. Benny hadn’t been dead but a few minutes, possibly shot just before we arrived. If the killer hadn’t used a silencer the shots would have been muffled by the racket the demolition gang made down the street. At least the guy didn’t have enough time in here to do much more than pump two slugs into Benny.
Without wasting time I went through the apartment hitting all the likely places Benny would have used to lay something away. Benny Mattick had never been overly imaginative and he wasn’t smart enough to be devious. If he had hidden anything in that apartment I would have found it. There were two dusty Banker’s Specials behind the phony fireplace and a Colt Cobra in an archaic shoulder holster lying on the catch bottom under the lower drawer of his dresser and three grand in hundred-dollar bills in a pocket of a suitcase.
But nothing like I was looking for. Nothing at all.
Helen had her back to the body, trying hard to keep herself in check. I said, “The place is clean.”
She didn’t understand what I meant.
I said, “Nobody tried to shake the place down. Whoever it was came here for one reason... to knock him off.”
“Deep...” her hands were bloodless as they squeezed each other, “they’ll think it was you.”
“Relax. Nobody knows anything yet. This was a professional job, kid, and nobody’s letting the cat out of the bag.”
“Could somebody outside... have seen him? Or us?”
“People don’t react to ordinary things. Besides, this block is half deserted. If we go out of here in a normal fashion chances are nobody will see us at all. Look, I have to make a phone call.”
“Please... hurry. I don’t want to be here with... that.”
“Wait out in the vestibule. I’ll only be a minute.”
The phone was on a table beside a corner chair. I called Wilson Batten and asked him if Cat had called in. He said he had and gave me a number to call. When he hung up I found the directory, looked up Hymie’s Delicatessen and asked for Roscoe to come to the phone.
“Yeah, Tate here.”
“Deep, friend. I have a story for you.”
“Don’t do me any favors.”
“You’ll appreciate this one. Benny-from-Brooklyn has been killed. I’m at his place now.”
Incredulously, he asked, “You, Deep?”
“Don’t be an idiot. I found him this way.”
Roscoe’s excitement mounted. “It couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy. They all fall sooner or later when you come around. Hurd’ll be happy to hear about this. I don’t suppose you called him?”
“No, and I wouldn’t either if I were you. Irish is here with me and unless you want the heat on her you’ll play this one real cool.”
“You miserable bastard,” he said.
“Save it.”
“Okay, let’s hear your suggestion. I know you have one.”