The Big Sleep: Chapter 14

"It's no racket for bums," I told Brody almost affectionately. "It takes a smooth worker like you, Joe. You've got to get confidence and keep it. People who spend their money for second-hand sex jags are as nervous as dowagers who can't find the rest room. Personally, I think the blackmail angles are a big mistake. I'm for shedding all that and sticking to legitimate sales and rentals."

Brody's dark brown stare moved up and down my face. His gun went on hungering for my vital organs. "You're a funny guy," he said tonelessly. "Who has this lovely racket?"

"You have," I said. "Almost."

The blonde choked and clawed her ear. Brody didn't say anything. He just looked at me.

"What?" the blonde called. "You sit there and try to tell us Mr Geiger ran that kind of business right down to the main drag? You're nuts!"

I leered at her politely. "Sure I do. Everybody knows the racket exists. If a thing like that has to exist, then right out on the street is where all practical coppers want it to exist. For the same reason they favour red light districts. They know where to go to flush the game when they want to."

"My God," the blonde said. "You let this cheese-head sit there and insult me, Joe? You with a gun in your hand and him holding nothing but a cigar and his dick?"

"I like it," Brody said. "The guy's got good ideas. Shut your trap and keep it shut, or I'll slap it shut for you with this." He flicked the gun around in an increasingly negligent manner.

The blonde gasped and turned her face to the wall. Brody looked at me and said cunningly: "How have I got that lovely racket?" "You shot Geiger to get it. Last night in the rain. It was dandy shooting weather. The trouble is he wasn't alone when you whiffed him. Either you didn't notice that, which seems unlikely, or you got the wind up and panicked. But you had nerve enough to take the memory out of the camera bot and you had nerve enough to come back later on and hide his corpse, so you could tidy up on the books before the law knew it had a murder to investigate."

"Yah," Brody said contemptuously. The gun wobbled on his knee. His brown face was as hard as a piece of carved wood. "You take chances mister. It's kind of goddamned lucky for you I didn't bop Geiger."

"You can step off for it just the same," I told him cheerfully. "You're made to order for the rap."

Brody's voice went rough. "Think you've got me framed for it?"

"Positive."

"How come?"

"There's somebody who'll tell it that way. I told you there was a witness. Don't go simple on me, Joe."

He exploded then. "That goddamned little hot pants!" he shouted. "She would, goddamn her! She would - just that!"

I leaned back and grinned at him. "Swell. I thought you had those bondage images of her."

He didn't say anything. The blonde didn't say anything. I let them chew on it. Brody's face cleared slowly, with a sort of greyish relief. He put his gun down on the end table beside his chair but kept his right hand close to it. He knocked ash from his cigar on the carpet and stared at me with eyes that were a tight shine between narrowed lids.

"I guess you think I'm dumb," Brody said.

"Just average, for a grifter. Get the pictures."

"What pictures?"

I shook my head. "Wrong play, Joe. Innocence gets you nowhere. You were either there last night, or you got the bondage materials from somebody that was there. You know she was there, because you had your girl friend threaten Mrs Regan with a police rap. The only ways you could know enough to do that would be by seeing what happened or by holding the memory and knowing where and when it was recorded. Cough up and be sensible."

"I'd have to have a little dough," Brody said. He turned his head a little at the green-eyed blonde. Not now green-eyed and only superficially a blonde. She was as limp as a freshly-killed rabbit.

"No dough," I said.

He scowled bitterly. "How'd you get to me?"

I flicked my wallet out and let him look at my hologram. "I was working on Geiger, for a client. I was outside last night, in the rain. I heard the shots. I crashed in. I didn't see the killer. I saw everything else."

"And kept your lip buttoned," Brody sneered.

I put my wallet away. "Yes," I admitted. "Up till now. Do I get the memory or not?"

"About these books," Brody said. "I don't get that."

"I tailed them here from Geiger's store. I have a witness."

"That punk kid?"

"What punk kid?"

He scowled again. "The kid that works at the store. He skipped out after the truck left. Agnes doesn't even know where he flops."

"That helps," I said, grinning at him. "That angle worried me a little. Either of you ever been in Geiger's house, before last night?"

"Not even last night," Brody said sharply. "So she says I gunned him, eh?"

"With the memory in my hand I might be able to convince her she was wrong. There was a little drink and drugs being done." Brody sighed. "She hates my guts. I bounced her out. I got paid, sure, but I'd have had to do it anyway. She's too screwy for a simple guy like me." He cleared his throat. "How about a little dough? I'm down to dollars. Agnes and me gotta move on."

"Not from my client."

"Listen."

"Get the memory, Brody."

"Oh, hell," he said. "You win." he stood up and slipped the gun into his side pocket. His left hand went up inside his coat. He was holding it there, his face twisted with disgust, when the door buzzer tang and kept on ringing.

Part 2

Chapter 15: Unanticipated Arrival