The Cop on the Corner (2 page)

     “And Lou?”

     “I see him once in a while.”

     Elrick looked down at a torn carpet, then he lifted his head slowly.

     “What about Jimmie Renzelli?”

     Gladys stepped back. Again she was white. Again her lower lip shivered. She bit at it. She reached back, her thin fingers tightly gripping the bedpost. She was trying to prevent the shivering from spreading through her body but it wouldn't work. She was vibrating as if she was connected with 110 volts.

     “All right. What about him?”

     Elrick's voice was soft. “Seen him lately?”

     “No.”

     “Are you sure about that, Gladys?”

     Something happened to the yellow- haired girl. Something terrible. Her pale blue eyes were suffused by a crazy light, and for a moment it seemed as if she was going to dig fingernails into Elrick's face.

     “You dirty sneak,” she screamed. “You'll get nothing out of me. Crawling in here like a slimy worm, thinking that you could get me to say something. Well, you won't!”

     “I have all the information I want,” Elrick said.

     He started to open the door. Then he came back and grabbed Gladys' shoulders. He shook her. “But I can always use more. You asked me for the wire and now I'll give it to you. Renzelli's dead. You know that. You know who killed him. So do I. Now you're going to tell me where I can find—”

     Despite the alcohol she was carrying, Gladys had strength. Using every ounce of it, she threw a fist at Elrick's right eye. It missed the eye and it hit the cop on the forehead. It gave Elrick pain, and it made him release the girl. She kicked him in the left shin, and then she kicked him in the right shin, and he made a grab for her. She dodged him. She snatched at the pitcher and swung it at his head.

     He ducked and made another grab for her. She jumped up on the bed and screamed and kicked again. One of the kicks caught him on the side of the lip. He cursed. Blood was running from his mouth and he was losing his temper. Again he reached for her.

     Gladys still had hold of the pitcher. She raised it over her head, brought it down hard. It made a dull sound as it connected with Elrick's skull. He fell back, tripped and went up against the window sill and Gladys threw the pitcher at him as he lunged at her. The pitcher hit Elrick full in the face. It loosened up a few of his front teeth and now he was out to do damage.

     But he tripped again as he neared the bed. He went down on his knees and, before he could straighten, Gladys' fist swung around in a flat arc and landed on the side of his jaw. He twisted over and fell on his back. Gladys jumped off the bed and picked up the empty gin bottle and hit him over the head. He tried to get up, tried to bring an arm up to protect his head.

     Gladys was too fast. Again she banged him with the gin bottle. Elrick fell flat on the floor. His eyes were closed. He was unconscious. . . .

     Somebody was saying:

     “You didn't have to do that.”

     “I couldn't help it. I lost my head.”

     “I always told you not to get excited.”

     “Don't bawl me out, Vince. Please don't bawl me out.”

     Elrick opened his eyes. Gladys was leaning weakly against a wall and facing her was a short heavy-set guy who wore a super-draped pin-striped suit. His hair was curly and light brown, and his eyes were a shade lighter. He had a wide, flattened nose and twisted lips.

     Gladys was sobbing. She started to lean her head against the short guy's shoulder but he pushed her away. She sobbed louder.

     THEN Elrick raised himself from the floor, pulling at his holster. The pistol came out into his hand.

     “Hello, Vince,” he said, and got up.

     Vince Mazzione seemed very much astonished. He rubbed his tongue across his lips a few times, then pointed to the pistol.

     “You don't need that,” he said.

     “Thanks, but I don't think I'm gonna take any chances. You remember me, don't you, Vince?”

     Gladys cut into her own sobbing.

     “Sure, Vince, you remember him,” she said. “He's an old friend. The original Mr. Auld Lang Syne.”

     Vince glanced at Gladys and said, “Shut up.” He looked at the pistol.

     “I'm sorry about this, officer,” he said. He looked up and then he seemed to recognize Elrick, and something close to a smile arrived on his lips. “Sure, I remember you.”

     “That's good, Vince. That's swell. It's going to make things easier.”

     “What things?” Vince said, a worried frown on his brow.

     “A lot of things,” Elrick said. He held the pistol stiffly and with his other hand he rubbed the back of his head. He moved to one side and leaned against the dresser. He looked at Gladys. She was sitting on the bed, sobbing. Then he looked at Vince. The short, heavyset Vince was shaking his head and Elrick attributed this to a certain amount of despair.

     “Come on, Vince,” the cop said, “let's save ourselves a lot of trouble. Let's get the whole thing settled now.”

     Vince nudged Gladys' shoulder and pointed to Elrick.

     “What's he talking about?” Vince asked.

     “Aw, come on!” Elrick said. “The longer we play around, the worse it's gonna be. You talk straight to me, Vince, and I'll do what I can for you. After all, it's not as bad as it seems. You might even be able to plead self-defense.”

     “You're crazy!” Vince screeched. “You got the wrong number somewhere! I don't have any idea what you're talking about!”

     “Sit down, Vince,” the cop said. “Sit down on the bed and don't get yourself all worked up. If you don't know what's taking place, it's only fair that I should lendja a helping hand.”

     Elrick waited while Vince sat down beside Gladys. He looked at the blond girl and the short, heavy-set man and they were quiet now and they were worried and somewhat meek.

     “Now it's nice and quiet here and we won't be bothered by anyone,” the cop said. “We'll just take our time and go through this and come to an agreement so that we'll all be happy. Now ain't that reasonable?”

     “I could stand another shot of gin right now,” Gladys said.

     “Shut up,” Vince said.

     “Let's go back two years ago,” Elrick began. “It was New Year's Eve. Everybody was happy. Everybody was making noises. Tooting horns and wearing paper caps and—”

     “Here we go again,” Gladys said. “Right down Memory Lane.”

     “Shut up,” Vince said.

     Elrick continued, “New Year's Eve at Jimmie Renzelli's place.” He paused. He saw that Gladys was shivering again. He saw that Vince was stiffening. He went on, “I was there that night. I was off duty. I was having a swell time. I was even a bit cockeyed. But not so much that I couldn't remember afterward.”

     “Remember what?” Vince said, and the meekness was gone and the query was flipped out harshly.

     “Plenty!” Elrick replied, and he made it loud. “You had an argument with Renzelli that night. A big argument—about a lot of things, mainly Gladys. Now look, Vince, if you get up off that bed, if you make one move I don't like, I'll send a bullet into you. Now sit still and listen. You got tough with Renzelli. You had Lou with you and you decided to settle things once and for all. Well, like I said before, I was carrying a big package of bourbon inside me but I knew what was taking place though, I knew that Jimmie Renzelli was anything but a model lad. I didn't want to see any trouble.

     “You and Lou had followed Renzelli into his office and I opened a side door where I could see and hear everything that was going on. I saw you and Lou standing near Renzelli. And you were telling him to leave town. You were telling him that if you ever saw him inside city limits again, you'd shoot him down. Ain't that right, Vince?”

     Perspiration flowed glimmeringly along Vince's forehead. He touched the tips of his trembling fingers to his lips.

     “Yeah, that's right,” he said.

     “So you told Lou to open a window. You pulled a rod and you held it on Renzelli and you told him to climb out the window. Then he pleaded with you to let him stay around. He promised that he'd leave Gladys alone. He promised that he'd never cross you again. He was on his knees. But you had that rod pointed at his head and you laughed at him. You reminded him of what a tough guy he had always been, and how often he had bullied you. And once again you said that if you ever saw him in this town again, you'd put bullets in him.”

     VINCE looked at his hands which were shaking. He looked at Gladys. She was sobbing again. He looked at Elrick. “Why are you bringing that up now? It happened two years ago.”

     “If it happened thirty years ago, I wouldn't be forgetting it,” the cop said. “My job won't let me forget things like that. And so, Vince, I'm arresting you for the murder of Jimmie Renzelli!”

     Paralysis dominated the short, heavyset guy. For a moment it seemed that he was going to collapse.

     “Murder?” he whispered.

     “Don't bother to fake it, Vince. I've seen that act pulled too many times already . Your best bet is to come along without any trouble.”

     “I didn't kill Renzelli!” Vince screeched. He started to leap away from the bed, but the muzzle of Elrick's gun was like a rivet, and it cast frigidity upon him. He gulped and he was trying hard to pull himself together.

     “Believe me, Elrick, I don't know anything about this,” he said. “I'll admit I got tough with Renzelli that night. I told him to leave town. And he did. Since then I haven't seen him.”

     Something was happening to Gladys. Her eyes were wide. Her lips were drawn tightly. Slowly turning her head, she looked at Vince.

     “Maybe the cop is right,” she said. “Maybe you did kill Jimmie!”

     “What are you saying?” Vince mumbled. He was stupefied.

     A dim, almost idiotic smile floated across Gladys' lips.

     “Sure, it checks,” she said. “You killed him because you knew he was coming back for me. You knew I'd go to him. You knew that all this time I've been carrying a torch for him, filling myself with gin, chaining myself to this rattrap of a room, trying to forget about him. And you, with your dough, with your sharp clothes, you thought you could take his place. But you couldn't, Vince. No man could. No man ever will.”

     Vince looked at Elrick. “Don't listen to her. She's rotted with gin. She's talkin' in a daze.”

     “Let her talk,” Elrick said.

     “Sure, let me talk,” Gladys said. “It does me good to talk now.” The smile that she fastened on Vince was eerie, and she went on, “I never knew what happened on that New Year's Eve. I never knew the real reason why Jimmie left town. You told me it was for business reasons. You were moving in on his gambling territory, and you told him to shove, and he was yellow, and he shoved. That's what you told me. That's what I believed. But somehow— somehow, Vince, it was in the cards for Jimmie to come back to me. And you were waiting for that day. You and Lou—waiting for him! You killed him, Vince! You killed the only thing that ever mattered to me!”

     Forgetting about Elrick's pistol, she aimed fingernails at Vince's throat. The heavy-set guy fell back. He let out a yell of fear, fell from the bed, and then he rolled over. And he collided with Elrick, who was trying to show Gladys the muzzle of the pistol.

     Elrick went back against the wall as he saw Gladys lunging at Vince. Again her fingernails were in action. The cop let out a curse and then he was wondering what to say and he grabbed at the standby phrase of all tough-neighborhood policemen.

     “Break it up!” he yelled.

     But Gladys was insane now. She did not see the pistol that was pointed at her. She did not care. And her only thought, her only desire was to fasten her fingernails in the jugular vein of Vince Mazzione.

     “Stop her!” Vince screeched.

     It looked bad for Vince. The cop realized that he would not be able to do much with the pistol. Already Gladys had her fingernails in the throat of the heavy-set guy, and she was ripping, and the blood was dribbling over his collar and tie.

     Elrick dropped the pistol. He clamped a hold on Gladys' arm, twisted hard and pulled back. Gladys let out a shriek and tried to jab an elbow into Elrick's middle. The cop told himself that it was too bad he had to be so rough with a woman, and he twisted the arm again. Gladys let out another shriek and she was cursing and kicking and squirming and Elrick placed a hold on her other arm. He dragged her away from Vince.

     “Now calm down,” he said.

     “Yeah,” Vince said, holding a handkerchief to his throat. “That's good advice.”

     Quickly he bent down, brought the pistol up and pointed it.

     “You stay here with her, copper! Just stay here and talk to her for a while.”

     ELRICK called himself a few hundred fancy names. “Where do you think you're going,

     Vince?” he asked.

     “I'm running to the drug store for an ice cream soda,” Vince said. “Then I'm leaving town. Maybe South America. Maybe Canada. You can guess at it.”