The Almost Perfect Murder Part 22

"Aah, what's the matter wit' ya?" retorted the supposed Madge stridently. "You don't own me. My eyes are my own, I guess, and I can do what I want wit' 'em. You ain't so much to look at as I can see."

Stephens subsided into a sullen muttering, and Madge (it is easier under these circ.u.mstances for me to refer to her as Madge) smiled at Chico in open defiance. Presently Stephens broke out again, and Benny and I made believe to be trying to soothe him. More drinks were ordered at our table. The card players grinned at Chico. Apparently they were quite accustomed to seeing him as the storm centre when there were women around. Chico went on playing his cards with an air of absolute indifference.

Stephens alternately quarrelled with Madge and ordered up fresh drinks. It was a very pretty bit of character acting that he was giving. It was a common sort of scene in that place and n.o.body paid much attention. Once Luigi with his hard eyes and his unctuous voice gave us a jocose warning to cut it out. Finally Stephens, making believe to be thoroughly drunk, jumped up.

"Aah, come on home," he snarled. "I'm not gonna stand for this."

My heart beat like a trip-hammer as the critical moment approached. I could scarcely fetch my breath.

"Go home yourself if you don't like it," retorted Madge. "I'm well enough pleased. I'll stay here with Benny and Belle."

Benny and I got up. "No! No!" we said. (All this had been rehea.r.s.ed beforehand.) "Come on, Madge, let's all go. George is gettin' ugly now. You know what he is. We'll quiet him down outside."

"No!" cried Madge obstinately. "Just because he's turned ugly he's not gonna spoil my fun! You can all go home and be d.a.m.ned to you! I'm stayin'!" And she sent a sidelong smile in Chico's direction.

Stephens appeared to be infuriated by this smile. Seizing Madge by the wrist, he jerked her roughly to her feet. "You come on!" he cried.

She tore herself free. "Lea' me alone!" she yelled. "You ain't got any rights over me!"

In the background Benny and I made soothing noises. "Aw, let her alone, George, and she'll come.... Aw, come on, Madge, you see how he is!" And so on.

But Stephens seized her bodily and started dragging her towards the door. Madge fought like a wildcat. Stephens kept her in front of him so that she could not reach his face with her nails. Benny and I made futile attempts to separate them. Behind us play had stopped, and the twelve players watched the struggling couple with cold, mask-like faces. They were not the sort to interfere in what did not concern them.

"Lemme go! Lemme go! or I'll kill ya!" yelled Madge.

He had shoved her almost to the door when suddenly she reached down, s.n.a.t.c.hed a gun out of the top of her stocking, and wrenching herself around, pressed the muzzle to his side. Everybody in the room saw the act. They did not know that gun was loaded only with blanks. There was a deafening report. Stephens released the girl and went staggering back against a table, pressing his hand against his side.

"I'm shot!" he groaned.

Madge stood there in a daze with the smoking gun in her hand. Benny disarmed her without resistance, and dropped the gun in his pocket. He then turned to support the wounded man. He ordered Joe, the Italian who had come with us, to take his other side. Stephens sagged between them in a most realistic way, his hand still pressed over his wound, his head hanging on his breast. I felt the same horror as if it had all been real. The absolute stillness of everybody else in the room was uncanny. Most of the faces bore cynical sneers. It was no business of theirs.

The door banged open and Luigi and his waiters ran in. The fat man was livid and moist with excitement. "Who done it?" he yelled.

"She did! She did!" cried Benny, pointing a shaking forefinger at Madge. "She shot my pal!" And he put his arm lovingly around Stephens' shoulder.

"Get him out of here! Get him out of here before he drops!" yelled Luigi. "My G.o.d! I can't have him dyin' on me! This will ruin me if it gets to the police!"

"We'll get him out if you'll call a taxi," growled Benny.

Luigi scampered away to do his bidding, and Benny and Joe slowly followed him out of the room, supporting the fainting man between them. All this happened so quickly that the bystanders had no time to wonder why no blood appeared around the hand that Stephens was pressing to his side. Madge made a move to accompany them, but Benny turned on her violently.

"Get back!" he snarled. "Ain't you done harm enough?"

Presumably they got their cab, for they did not return. Madge and I were left behind. She dropped in a chair and, spreading her arms on the table in front of her, hid her face upon them. I sat down beside her, and put an arm around her shoulders.

"Oh, why did you do it? Why did you do it?" I moaned.

Play started again at the next table as if nothing had happened. At the other table the three girls, with painful sneers in Madge's direction, resumed their low-voiced talk.

In a few moments Luigi came bustling back into the room. "Now, then, girl," he said harshly, "out with ya! Ye're lucky to git off so easy. Never let me catch you in my place again. I don't care who brings ya."

Madge raised a dry-eyed, terror-stricken face. "I da.s.sent ... I da.s.sent go out in the street," she said hoa.r.s.ely. "Benny'll be layin' for me. He took me gun off me. He'll git me for this."

"That's nothin' to me," said Luigi. "Out wit' ya!"

"Oh, I da.s.sent! I da.s.sent!" whispered Madge, glancing around desperately for help.

Chico gave over his hand to the man who was standing next him, and arose with a swagger. "That's all right, Luigi," he said with a lordly indifference, "these ladies are wit' me, see? I'm buyin' for them. What'll you have, girls?"

"You're a fool, Chico," said Luigi, shrugging, "you had oughta leave the women alone. You're like to get plugged yourself for this." However, his scorn was tempered by a grin. Chico was evidently a favourite.

"Thanks for the tip," said Chico insolently. "I know my business."

Little Tina suddenly sprang up, livid and trembling with pa.s.sion. "You would, would you?" she cried. "With the likes of that! She's a murderess! Put her out! Put her out!"

Everybody turned on Tina. "Yah! are you tryin' to make trouble now?" snarled Luigi. "I don't have to take it from you! Git your things and git, see!" He pointed a stubby forefinger towards the door.

Tina's voice rose shriller and higher, but Luigi bellowed her down. "Git! ... Git! ... Git!"

The girl suddenly collapsed and stumbled out of the room, weeping tempestuously. There is no justice in such matters. Luigi followed her out.

VI.

In obedience to a glance from Madge I moved around to the other side of the table, leaving the place next to her for Chico. We sat down. More grappa was brought to our table, and everything went on just as if there had been no shooting five minutes before. I may say that Madge and I made no pretence of drinking all this stuff. Luigi didn't care, of course, so it was ordered often enough. The full gla.s.ses were whisked away from in front of us, and I have no doubt brought back again directly afterwards.

It was very thrilling to find oneself so close to the redoubtable Chico. He was so frankly the preening, strutting male I was almost ashamed to look at him. "Aah! buck up, girl!" he said to Madge with his scornful grin; "you're too good-lookin' a girl to mind a little thing like that! n.o.body's gonna do anything to a girl like you!"

However scornful his words might be, there was a dangerous purring quality in his voice whenever he addressed a woman that was--well, weakening! The little wretch was too good-looking, too sure of himself. It wasn't fair. Madge permitted herself to smile wanly in his direction.

"What's yer name?" he demanded. "Me, I'm Chico Cardone."

"Madge Regan," she said.

"And who's she?" he asked, with a contemptuous jerk of the head in my direction.

"Me sister Bella."

"Well, say, they ain't n.o.body layin' fer Bella outside," he said coolly. "Why can't she beat it home?"

"Nix," said Madge. "Me and Bella allus sticks together."

"Aah," he drawled, at once contemptuous and cajoling, "send her home, go on."

"No," said Madge.

Their hard glances contended for the mastery. In the end it was Madge who faced him out. Chico was inveigled by the touselled head. "Well, drink hearty," he said, lifting his tiny gla.s.s. No more was said about sending me home.

Chico, with his insolent narrowed eyes fixed on her face, picked up her hand and fondled it. "Pretty d.a.m.n quick on the draw aw right," he said grinning. "Me, I like 'em dangerous, meself. They's some kick about a girl that totes a gun. What makes me tired is the kind that blubs all over the place.... Just the same when you go out wit' me I'll make sure first-off you ain't got no gun in your stockin' before I git it meself."

Madge pulled her hand away. "I ain't gonna get messed up with you," she said, giving him scorn for scorn.

"Why ain't ya?"

"Too many women runnin' after ya. I don' hafta enter no free-for-all to git a fella."

"Is zat so?" drawled Chico.

"You heard me."

"n.o.body ever caught me by runnin' after me. I pick me own."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah!"

It is impossible to convey in words the spirited exchange of glances that pa.s.sed back and forth. I wondered where Mme. Storey could have learned the technique of Bleecker Street love-making. She was as good as Chico. "You don't exactly hate yerself, do ya?" she asked with arch scorn.

"Why should I?" retorted Chico grinning. "I never lie to a woman."

"No, you don't!"--very sarcastically.

"Sure, I don't. That's what makes 'em sore. They expect a man to lie."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah! But I allus give it to 'em straight." He drew her arm through his, and leaned warmly towards her. "Listen, kid," he murmured thrillingly, "I'm for you, see? ... There it is, you can take it or leave it, and I ain't sayin' you're the on'y girl in the world neither."

"Nor are you the on'y fella," she retorted.

Luigi had returned to the room and was watching the couple with a cynical grin. The scene between them was interrupted by the clanging of a gong in the street. Everybody looked at the door uneasily. The haggard little waiter ran in.

"The police," he gasped; "the police..."

A window was thrown up and Chico went over the sill, pulling Madge after him by the hand. Chico never thought of me, but you may be sure I stuck close to them. We dropped on damp flagstones outside, with a high wooden fence looming before us. There was a ladder lying in the yard, which Chico placed against the extension. We scrambled up, and he pulled it after us. We crossed a flat tin roof that crackled underfoot, and went over another window sill into the main house. We found ourselves in a bedroom. There were actually two people lying in the bed. One rose up as we crossed the room, but Chico said: "'S'all right, Mike;" and he lay down again. It was like a crazy dream.

Gaining the main hall of the house, we went up three more flights of stairs, and up another ladder. Chico pushed open a scuttle, and once more we found ourselves under the sky. Chico carefully closed the scuttle. I had a momentary impression of peaceful still beauty high above the confusion of the town. The sky threatened rain, and the low-hanging clouds reflected the street lights with a delicate pinkish radiance.

Chico ran over the roofs pulling Madge after him, and I close at their heels. We climbed over the low parapets that separated the houses. The noises of the street came up to us slightly m.u.f.fled. I counted the houses we crossed. On the fourth house Chico dropped to his knees beside a little skylight in the roof, and lifted it.

"This is me own room," he said. "We'll be as safe here as in church."

He dropped out of sight into the black hole, and presently his voice came back: "Wait till I shove a table under, and then let yourself down easy." And a moment later: "Now!"

I had a moment of horrible panic when Mme. Storey dropped into the blackness, thinking she might be spirited away from me. But when I let myself down, I found the table under my feet, and Chico's hand to guide me. He steered me to a bed.

"Sit there," he said. "I gotta close the shutter before I light up."

Mme. Storey was beside me. I was trembling like an aspen leaf, and she pressed my hand to rea.s.sure me. By a little catch of laughter in her breath I knew she was enjoying every moment. Well, that is her way. It made me a little sore at the time, because my nerves were in strings.

The light flashed on, and I beheld a sordid little inside room with only the skylight overhead to admit light and air. It was closely shuttered now. The place was clean enough, but utterly cheerless; the sagging iron bed on which we sat, the rickety pine table; a cheap bureau marked all around the edge with the burns of innumerable cigarette b.u.t.ts; and two broken chairs. The only humane touch in the room was a photograph stuck in the gla.s.s on the bureau. Curiously enough it was not of a woman, but a handsome Italian boy, thirteen or fourteen years old.

Chico stood before us grinning. "Well, here we are!" he said. "On'y I wish to G.o.d Bella was home and in bed."

Madge now a.s.sumed a sullen and rather scared look. "If she wasn't here I wouldn't stay," she muttered.

"Would you sooner run out into the arms of the cops?" asked Chico teasingly.

"Yes, I would," she muttered. "When can I get out of here?"

"I don't care if you never go," said Chico ardently.

Now that we had separated him from the gang, Chico showed us a new aspect of his character. He was not on parade now. There was no necessity for him to play the part of the swaggering little bravo, who felt nothing and cared for nothing. Now that he had us practically at his mercy, something perilously like decency and kindness appeared in his hard face. I gradually lost my fear of him.

"Aw, I ain't a gorilla," he said cajolingly to Madge. "I ain't a gonna bite ya. What ya scared of, kid? You was game enough when the utter fella got ugly."

Gradually Madge allowed herself to be won back to a smile. In his room, however, her manner was entirely different from what it had been in the cafe. There were no more scornful challenges from her dark eyes. She was friendly and gentle as if she trusted him--and Chico responded to it. n.o.body is completely bad, of course. He talked to her like any simple fellow to his girl.

Chico poured out the story of his life and adventures as if it was relief to unburden himself. It was a lurid tale. He was mum as to the particular incident in which we were interested. He still boasted, of course, but there was a simplicity about his recital that disarmed one. The poor lad's moral values were hopelessly confused: he boasted of his crimes, and apologised for his better impulses.

Madge took advantage of a lull in his talk to ask: "Who's that a pitcher of in your bureau?"

Chico sprang up and fetched it to the bed. "That's me kid brutter, Tony," he said eagerly. "Ain't he a swell-lookin' kid?" The question unlocked the last stronghold of Chico's guarded breast. There was something almost piteous in his eager fondness. "Say, I cert'ny am foolish about that kid," he went on. "Have to keep it dark around the fellas or they sure would razz me.... There's on'y the two of us, him and me. Our folks is all dead, and I'm raisin' the kid, see? I mean, I'm payin' for his raisin'. I got him in the Paulist Fathers' school up-town. d.a.m.n good school, too. The sons of judges and doctors and politicians and all kinds of high-ups go there, and my Tony's as good as the best of them!"

"The sons of doctors and lawyers and all!" exclaimed Madge as if amazed.

"Sure, I know you'll t'ink I'm a fool," said Chico shamefacedly, "but that kid's gotta have the best education money kin buy. None of the rough stuff for him; none of what I went troo. Me, I got my education in the prisons. He don't know where the money comes from that pays his bills. He thinks I'm a travellin' man. Gee! it would raise a stink up in that school if they ever found out, eh? But I'll take care of that. The on'y thing that bothers me is, suppose I was to get mine sudden. Suppose I stopped a bullet or got sent up for a long stretch. I tell ya that shakes me nerve. What would happen to the kid if I kicked out?"

"Maybe the fathers would keep him just the same," suggested Madge.

"Maybe," said Chico frowning, "but I wouldn't want him to be a charity pupil. He has his pocket-money with the rest of them, and belongs to the swell clubs. He's on the basket-ball team--the junior team--and he plays football too. He's gonna be a regular husky when he gits his growt'. Bigger'n me. Sometimes I go up to watch their games, but he don't know I'm there."

"Don't you ever see him?" asked Madge in surprise.

"Sure, I go up there sometimes," said Chico uncomfortably, "but it's a kind of a strain to hafta talk to the priests and all. I'm afraid of givin' the snap away. So mostly I make out I'm travellin'. I took him to the movies once or twict on a Sat'day aft-noon, but h.e.l.l! you never know what yer gonna see in them movies. They puts ideas in a young kid's head."

"Ain't it the troot!" murmured Madge, entering fully into sympathy with his story.

"I feel just like a fat'er to that kid," said Chico with an attractive, shamefaced laugh. "Ain't it h.e.l.l to be a fat'er! Allus worryin' about him, how to keep him from learnin' bad and all; allus thinkin' he's gonna get one of these diseases that kids get."

"Like infantile paralysis," suggested Madge softly.