The Black Lizard Big Book of Pulps

“I guess so. But why did they kill that poor Mr. Giovanni?”

“They had to tell him Bowes was a witness before the old man would consent to start suit. Bowes, when he got cold feet — he calls it religion, but he finally talked to both the priest and the cops, so you can take your pick — went to Giovanni and confessed it was a frame. So they had to kill Giovanni, too. Now is it all straight?”

“I guess so. I’m glad it’s over, Pat.”

McCarthy said gloomily, “It got over too soon to suit me, hon. I wanted that little thin guy that was so handy with the ice pick all to myself. Benny got to him first. I’ll admit Benny did a good job — he broke his neck. The big guy’ll hang and Halstead’s dead and Wilson will be laughed out of town as soon as he gets out of the hospital.”

“Why did you shoot him? You didn’t have to do that.”

McCarthy said indignantly, “Hell, kid! If he’d been a man and faced the music, none of this would have happened. If he hadn’t been drunk and out riding around with that chippy he’d have never run over the Giovanni boy. If he’d have stood the scandal like a man, the old man wouldn’t have been killed. I should have aimed center instead of just crippling him a bit. He started the whole thing... I take that Giovanni thing pretty hard, kid.”

Marge said soberly, “I see what you mean.” And then her eyes widened and she said, “My heavens! It isn’t possible.”

McCarthy turned and saw Benny and Chet Morris almost at the booth. They were both very drunk. Benny had a severe and formal Homburg perched exactly center on his head and this didn’t go well with a shabby sweater and grease-stained slacks. He carried a pair of yellow gloves proudly in his right hand. His left held a half-full whiskey bottle.

Morris looked even more spectacular. He wore a cap on the side of his head and the suit he wore had been made for a taller, much thinner man. The green trouser cuffs dragged four inches on his shoes, which were an ugly yellow. The coat hung almost to his knees. He held two glasses and was saying to Benny:

“Le’s stop an’ have ’ittle drinkie. Thirsty, I am.”

McCarthy said, under his breath to Marge: “Look at the poor — face. That’s what the gal did with that high heel.”

Morris’ face was blotched and lumpy and both eyes were black. He looked as though he’d fallen down several flights of stairs.

Marge gasped, “And him so fussy!”

Then Morris looked up and saw them. He waved happily, almost falling down while doing so, and came to a halt in front of the booth. He beamed at them and said:

“Hi! What d’ya think of the new outfit?

“Ain’t it something, huh?”

Marge said, “I’d never deny it.”

Benny came to a halt alongside Morris and said, “I got me a hat at the same place, Chief. Hey, look at me, too, Chief.”

McCarthy said, “I can’t help it.”

Chet Morris said, in a confidential voice:

“Like this, Pat, m’ frien’. Benny and I we bust into Abe Goldstein down at the station while you was busy with the cops. Abe’s got a brother-in-law who has a clothing store. So Benny and I and Abe take a couple of snorts or so and go down to get a new outfit. Abe says his brother-in-law’s got the best stock in the city and he helped us pick this outfit out. Didn’t cost us nothin’ at all. How’s it look, pal?”

McCarthy said, “Gorgeous! Simply gorgeous! Will you do me a favor, Chet?”

“Sure.”

“Then let me be with you when you see Abe in the morning.”

“Why? He won’t take our clothes back. He gave ’em to us. S’funny, too, with him so stingy, but—”

McCarthy said, “Let’s not spoil our fun tonight, guy. But there’s reasons and you’ll realize it tomorrow. Believe me you will.”

Marge giggled and said, “It would be bad enough to look at that at any time. But with the hangover Chet’ll have, it’s liable to be fatal.”

McCarthy agreed with: “Yeah, fatal to Abe.”