Finger Man Page 2

  and a very slight, very pale man came into the

  room. He had straight, lusterless black hair, a

  Then a clear, very polite voice, with a high bony forehead, flat, impenetrable eyes. He slightly foreign accent, spoke out: “If you will had a thin mustache that was trimmed in two just be patient, madame… Mr. Canales will be sharp lines almost at right angles to each other.

  here in a minute.”

  They came down below the corners of his

  mouth a full inch. The effect was Oriental. His

  I went across, squeezed near the railing. skin had a thick, glistening pallor.

  Two croupiers stood near me with their heads

  together and their eyes looking sidewise. One

  He slid behind the croupiers, stopped at

  moved a rake slowly back and forth beside the a corner of the center table, glanced at the red-idle wheel. They were staring at the red‐haired haired girl and touched the ends of his girl.

  mustache with two fingers, the nails of which

  had a purplish tint.

  She wore a high‐cut black evening gown.

  She had fine white shoulders, was something

  He smiled suddenly, and the instant

  less than beautiful and more than pretty. She after it was as though he had never smiled in his was leaning on the edge of the table, in front of life. He spoke in a dull, ironic voice.

  the wheel. Her long eyelashes were twitching.

  “Good evening, Miss Glenn. You must let

  There was a big pile of money and chips me send somebody with you when you go

  in front of her.

  home. I’d hate to see any of that money get in

  the wrong pockets.”

  She spoke monotonously, as if she had

  said the same thing several times already.

  The red‐haired girl looked at him, not

  very pleasantly.

  “Get busy and spin that wheel! You take

  it away fast enough, but you don’t like to dish it

  “I’m

  not

  leaving—unless

  you’re

  out.”

  throwing me out.”

  Canales said: “No? What would you like

  The ball drifted along the groove, dipped

  to do?”

  past one of the bright metal diamonds, slid

  down the flank of the wheel and chattered

  “Bet the wad—dark meat!”

  along the tines beside the numbers. Movement

  went out of it suddenly, with a dry click. It fell

  The crowd noise became a deathly next the double‐zero, in red twenty‐seven. The

  silence. There wasn’t a whisper of any kind of wheel was motionless.

  sound. Harger’s face slowly got ivory‐white.

  The croupier took up his rake and slowly

  Canales’ face was without expression. pushed the two packets of bills across, added He lifted a hand, delicately, gravely, slipped a them to the stake, pushed the whole thing off large wallet from his dinner jacket and tossed it the field of play.

  in front of the tall croupier.

  Canales put his wallet back in his breast

  “Ten grand,” he said in a voice that was

  pocket, turned and walked slowly back to the

  a dull rustle of sound. “That’s my limit—

  door, went through it.

  always.”

  I took my cramped fingers off the top of

  The tall croupier picked the wallet up, the railing, and a lot of people broke for the bar.

  spread it, drew out two flat packets of crisp

  bills, riffled them, refolded the wallet and

  passed it along the edge of the table to Canales.

  THREE

  Canales did not take it. Nobody moved,

  except the croupier.

  When Lou came up I was sitting at a little tile‐

  The girl said:

  top table in a corner, fooling with some more of

  “Put it on the red.”

  the tequila. The little orchestra was playing a

  The croupier leaned across the table and thin, brittle tango and one couple was

  very carefully stacked her money and chips. He maneuvering self‐consciously on the dance

  placed her bet for her on the red diamond. He floor.

  placed his hand along the curve of the wheel.

  Lou had a cream‐colored overcoat on,

  “If no one objects,” Canales said,

  with the collar turned up around a lot of white

  without looking at anyone, “this is just the two silk scarf. He had a fine‐drawn glistening of us.”

  expression. He had white pigskin gloves this

  time and he put one of them down on the table

  Heads moved. Nobody spoke. The and leaned at me.

  croupier spun the wheel and sent the ball

  skimming in the groove with a light flirt of his

  “Over twenty‐two thousand,” he said

  left wrist. Then he drew his hands back and softly. “Boy, what a take!”

  placed them in full view on the edge of the

  table, on top of it.

  I said: “Very nice money, Lou. What kind

  of car are you driving?

  ”

  The red‐haired girl’s eyes shone and her

  lips slowly parted.

  “See anything wrong with it?”

  “The play?” I shrugged, fiddled with my

  heard you insulted a while back. You took it

  glass. “I’m not wised up on roulette, Lou… I saw nicely… So we won’t count this one.”

  plenty wrong with your broad’s manners.”

  He had a queer expression for a

  “She’s not a broad,” Lou said. His voice

  moment. Then he turned and slid away with a

  got a little worried.

  little sway of the shoulders. He put his feet

  down flat and turned them out a good deal as

  “Okey. She made Canales look like a

  he walked. His walk, like his face, was a little

  million. What kind of car?”

  negroid.

  “Buick sedan. Nile green, with two

  I got up and went out through the big

  spotlights and those little fender lights on rods.” white double doors into a dim lobby, got my hat His voice was still worried.

  and coat and put them on. I went out through

  another pair of double doors onto a wide

  I said: “Take it kind of slow through veranda with scrollwork along the edge of its town. Give me a chance to get in the parade.”

  roof. There was sea fog in the air and the

  windblown Monterey cypresses in front of the

  He moved his glove and went away. The house dripped with it. The grounds sloped

  red‐haired girl was not in sight anywhere. I gently into the dark for a long distance. Fog hid looked down at the watch on my wrist. When I the ocean.

  looked up again Canales was standing across the

  table. His eyes looked at me lifelessly above his

  I had parked the car out on the street,

  trick mustache.

  on the other side of the house. I drew my hat

  down and walked soundlessly on the damp

  “You don’t like my place,” he said.

  moss that covered the driveway, rounded a

  corner of the porch, and stopped rigidly.

  “On the contrary.”

  A man just in front of me was holding a

  “You don’t come here to play.” He was

  gun—but he didn’t see me. He was holding the

  telling me, not asking me.

  gun down at his side, pressed against the

  material of his overcoat, and his big hand made

  “Is it compulsory?” I asked dry
ly.

  it look quite small. The dim light that reflected

  from the barrel seemed to come out of the fog,

  A very faint smile drifted across his face. to be part of the fog. He was a big man, and he

  He leaned a little down and said: “I think you stood very still, poised on the balls of his feet.

  are a dick. A smart dick.”

  I lifted my right hand very slowly and

  “Just a shamus,” I said. “And not so

  opened the top two buttons of my coat,

  smart. Don’t let my long upper lip fool you. It reached inside and drew out a long .38 with a runs in the family.”

  six‐inch barrel. I eased it into my overcoat

  pocket.

  Canales wrapped his fingers around the

  top of a chair, squeezed on it. “Don’t come here

  The man in front of me moved, reached

  again—for anything.” He spoke very softly, his left hand up to his face. He drew on a almost dreamily. “I don’t like pigeons.”

  cigarette cupped inside his hand and the glow

  put brief light on a heavy chin, wide, dark

  I took the cigarette out of my mouth and

  looked it over before I looked at him. I said: “I

  nostrils, and a square, aggressive nose, the nose station with a night‐bell, and at last a drugstore of a fighting man.

  which was still open.

  Then he dropped the cigarette and

  stepped on it and a quick, light step made faint

  noise behind me. I was far too late turning.

  Something swished and I went out like a

  light.

  FOUR

  When I came to I was cold and wet and had a

  headache a yard wide. There was a soft bruise

  A dolled‐up sedan was parked in front of

  behind my right ear that wasn’t bleeding. I had the drugstore and I parked behind that, got out, been put down with a sap.

  and saw that a hatless man was sitting at the

  counter, talking to a clerk in a blue smock. They

  I got up off my back and saw that I was a seemed to have the world to themselves. I

  few yards from the driveway, between two started to go in, then I stopped and took trees that were wet with fog. There was some another look at the dolled‐up sedan.

  mud on the backs of my shoes. I had been

  dragged off the path, but not very far.

  It was a Buick and of a color that could

  have been Nile‐green in daylight. It had two

  I went through my pockets. My gun was spotlights and two little egg‐shaped amber

  gone, of course, but that was all—that and the lights stuck up on thin nickel rods clamped to idea that this excursion was all fun.

  the front fenders. The window by the driver’s

  I nosed around through the fog, didn

  seat was down. I went back to the Marmon and

  ’t

  find anything or see anyone, gave up bothering got a flash, reached in and twisted the license about that, and went along the blank side of the holder of the Buick around, put the light on it house to a curving line of palm trees and an old quickly, then off again.

  type arc light that hissed and flickered over the

  It was registered to Louis N. Harger.

  entrance to a sort of lane where I had stuck the

  1925 Marmon touring car I still used for

  I got rid of the flash and went into the

  transportation. I got into it after wiping the seat drugstore. There was a liquor display at one off with a towel, teased the motor alive, and side, and the clerk in the blue smock sold me a choked it along to a big empty street with pint of Canadian Club, which I took over to the disused car tracks in the middle.

  counter and opened. There were ten seats at

  the counter, but I sat down on the one next to

  I went from there to De Cazens the hatless man. He began to look me over, in

  Boulevard, which was the main drag of Las the mirror, very carefully.

  Olindas and was called after the man who built

  Canales’ place long ago. After a while there was

  I got a cup of black coffee two‐thirds full

  town, buildings, dead‐looking stores, a service and added plenty of the rye. I drank it down and

  waited for a minute, to let it warm me up. Then

  “No.”

  I looked the hatless man over.

  “You don’t think it’s a hot car?”

  He was about twenty‐eight, a little thin

  on top, had a healthy red face, fairly honest

  I said: “No. I just want the story.”

  eyes, dirty hands and looked as if he wasn’t

  making much money. He wore a gray whipcord

  “You a dick?”

  jacket with metal buttons on it, pants that

  didn’t match.

  “Uh‐huh—but it isn’t a shakedown, if

  that’s what worries you.”

  I said carelessly, in a low voice: “Your

  bus outside?”

  He drew hard on his cigarette and

  moved his spoon around in his empty cup.

  He sat very still. His mouth got small and

  tight and he had trouble pulling his eyes away

  “I can lose my job over this,” he said

  from mine, in the mirror.

  slowly. “But I needed a hundred bucks. I’m a

  hack driver.”

  “My brother’s,” he said, after a moment.

  “I guessed that,” I said.

  I said: “Care for a drink?… Your brother

  is an old friend of mine.”

  He looked surprised, turned his head

  and stared at me. “Have another drink and let’s

  He nodded slowly, gulped, moved his get on with it,” I said. “Car thieves don’t park hand slowly, but finally got the bottle and them on the main drag and then sit around in curdled his coffee with it. He drank the whole drugstores.”

  thing down. Then I watched him dig up a

  crumpled pack of cigarettes, spear his mouth

  The clerk came back from the window

  with one, strike a match on the counter, after and hovered near us, busying himself with missing twice on his thumbnail, and inhale with rubbing a rag on the coffee urn. A heavy silence a lot of very poor nonchalance that he knew fell. The clerk put the rag down, went along to wasn’t going over.

  the back of the store, behind the partition, and

  began to whistle aggressively.

  I leaned close to him and said evenly:

  “This doesn’t have to be trouble.”

  The man beside me took some more of

  the whiskey and drank it, nodding his head

  He said: “Yeah… Wh‐what’s the beef?”

  wisely at me. “Listen—I brought a fare out and

  was supposed to wait for him. A guy and a jane

  The clerk sidled towards us. I asked for come up alongside me in the Buick and the guy more coffee. When I got it I stared at the clerk offers me a hundred bucks to let him wear my until he went and stood in front of the display cap and drive my hack into town. I’m to hang window with his back to me. I laced my second around here an hour, then take his heap to the

  cup of coffee and drank some of it. I looked at Hotel Carillon on Towne Boulevard. My cab will the clerk’s back and said: “The guy the car be there for me. He gives me the hundred belongs to doesn’t have a brother.”

  bucks.”

  He held himself tightly, but turned

  “What was his story?” I asked.

  towards me. “You think it’s a hot car?”

  “He said they’d been to a gambling joint

  “Does that fix me up? Can I go now?” His

  and had some luck for a change. They’re afraid voice was strident with relief.

&nb
sp; of holdups on the way in. They figure there’s

  always spotters watchin’ the play.”

  I told him it was all right with me, and

  gave him my card. It was twelve minutes past

  I took one of his cigarettes and one as he took the corner. I climbed into the straightened it out in my fingers. “It’s a story I Buick and tooled it down the ramp to the garage can’t hurt much,” I said. “Could I see your and left it with a colored boy who was dusting cards?”

  cars in slow motion. I went around to the lobby.

  He gave them to me. His name was Tom

  The clerk was an ascetic‐looking young

  Sneyd and he was a driver for the Green Top man who was reading a volume of California Cab Company. I corked my pint, slipped it into Appellate Decisions under the switchboard light.

  my side pocket, and danced a half‐dollar on the He said Lou was not in and had not been in counter.

  since eleven, when he came on duty. After a

  short argument about the lateness of the hour

  The clerk came along and made change. and the importance of my visit, he rang Lou’s

  He was almost shaking with curiosity.

  apartment, but there wasn’t any answer.