The Cop on the Corner (3 page)

     “You're not smart, Vince. You'll be picked up in no time.”

     “Let me go, copper!” Gladys yelled. “Let me go! I don't care if he shoots me! At least I'll get in his way—you'll be able to grab him!”

     “You wouldn't do a thing like that, would you, copper?” Vince said.

     He was near the door. There was a smile on his face and there was something sad about it.

     “I'll be sayin' good-by, Gladys,” Vince said. “I don't want to leave you, baby, but I don't have any choice now. Maybe some day you'll find that you made a mistake. If I had the time, if I had the breaks, I'd prove it to you now. But the way things are lined up, the only thing for me to do is to powder— but fast!”

     And he made an exit.

     Gladys writhed in Elrick's grasp. “Go after him!”

     “Sister, he's not carrying a water pistol,” the cop said.

     “You can't let him get away!”

     “Listen,” Elrick said. “I feel worse about this than you do. If Vince makes good on the scram, I not only lose my chance for a plainclothes job, but I'll probably get kicked off the Force in the bargain.” He sighed. “Anyway, it's better than getting a few bullets in my lung. Come on, let's ride down to Headquarters and give Reeve and the other smart guys a big laugh.” . . .

     In the outer office of Headquarters there was unusual quiet. It thickened as Elrick and the girl came in. The detectives and the reporters and the cops were staring and Elrick was waiting for someone to say something.

     Nothing was said.

     Elrick gazed around the room, looking for Reeve. The plainclothes man was not around. “Where is he?” Elrick asked another cop.

     “In there.” The cop flicked a thumb toward a door. “Questioning somebody.”

     “On what?”

     “On the Renzelli case.”

     Elrick took a deep breath. “Witness or suspect?”

     “Neither. The guy came in and gave himself up.”

     Elrick's eyes bulged and an elated smile formed on his lips.

     “You mean he came in here and said he killed Renzelli?”

     “That's what I mean,” the other cop said.

     “Then it's okay!” Elrick yelled. “Everything's okay!”

     “What's okay?” the other cop said dully.

     “Listen, I cracked this case. I did it alone. Nobody helped. I went out and put the pieces together and I nabbed the murderer. Even if he did get away, it stands to reason that I found him out. So he came back. He gave himself up. Reeve can't take credit for that. And he won't, no matter how hard he tries. Don't you think I'm gonna let myself get pushed around!”

     “Elrick, I'm thinking that you must have bumped your head some place and it's affected you,” the other cop said, eyes and voice still dull. “Maybe you better go in there and find out a few things.”

     Elrick grabbed at the door handle. He dashed into the small room. He saw a few detectives. He saw a few cops. He saw Reeve. And then he was looking at someone who was sitting in a chair beneath a droplight.

     It was Herbie.

     The newsboy was relaxed and he was calm. He smiled at Elrick, and then he looked up at Reeve.

     “So like I was telling you, I always hated Renzelli,” Herbie said. “I always remembered how he used to bully me, when we were kids. But more than just hating him as an individual, I despised the things he represented. Two years ago I planned to murder him. But just about that time he left town. I don't know why. It couldn't have been because he was afraid of me. I never told a soul what I intended to do. Anyway, after Renzelli left, I promised myself that if he ever came back, I would kill him because he and creatures of his type are leeches, sucking the blood of society. An artist like myself is forced to sell newspapers on a corner, while the Renzellis live like princes!”

     “All right,” Reeve cut in. “So Renzelli came back to town. Then what?”

     Herbie shrugged. “I had a gun. I'd been saving it for the happy moment. Last night I used it.”

     “And today,” Reeve said, “you were on the corner as usual, chewing the rag with your old pal Elrick. 'Is that right?”

     “That's right,” Herbie said, and he smiled contentedly.

     One of the dicks said: “Bughouse.” Reeve nodded.

     ELRICK told himself that if he stayed in this room a minute longer he'd go crazy, too. He opened the door and walked out. He walked through the quiet outer office and he stopped before Gladys.

     “You'll be seeing Vince in a day or so,” he said. “He probably reads the papers. A certain headline will bring him back to town. And since he's been true blue all this time, trying to help you snap out of it, he'll come back to you again. And when he does, give him a big hello. Vince ain't an angel, but he's better stuff than Renzelli was. And maybe when he sees you back on your feet, smiling again, singing again, he'll stay on the straight line.”

     “Are you telling me that Vince didn't do it?”

     “That's the idea. And if you're gonna start bawling and calling yourself names, do it at home. I've had enough aggravation for one day.”

     Elrick watched her as she walked across the room, as she walked out through the big doorway, above which the symbol of Justice was carved in lines that somehow were as gentle as they were stern.

     Then he turned and looked at the other door and winced slightly as he thought of the needling he would soon take from Reeve and the other smart guys. As he thought of the plainclothes job, flitting away like a mocking moth. As he thought of his lonely beat, and the stifling afternoons, with summer sun jumping up from a broiling pavement and hitting him in the face.

     And no Herbie to talk to.

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David Goodis