The Association

IT WAS getting dark as I left the building and looked for a cab. There was none, and I started to walk across town toward the subway. I didn't see Rocco until he stepped out of the doorway and blocked my passage. There was a strip of tape along one cheek and his features had a battered, bluish look.

"Wait a minute, Mac."

I was startled, and I think afraid. I've never known much about fear, but I felt it tugging at me now. I looked up and down the street, quickly, in search of help. There were people on the street, but none close to us, and none paying any attention.

I faced Rocco then, knowing I was in for it. There was no question that the man could lick me. He was more brute than he was human, a throwback to the days when man was little better than an animal. I thought of Johnny's shattered body and shuddered. Still, he wasn't going to get me without a fight.

But I got the surprise of my life. Maybe Rocco was stiff and sore from the beating he had taken on the preceding afternoon. Maybe he figured that now wasn't the place or time, for he said:

"Look, Mac. This is just a little warning, see. You're planning to send those dames out of town... oh, never mind how I know. Well, that's okay. They're troublemakers and I'd just as soon they weren't around, but get smart and take a powder yourself. This town ain't big enough." He swung on his heel and cut across the street, leaving me standing there, staring after him with my mouth open.

A sudden, unreasoning rage filled me. That the man should have the nerve, the utter gall to order me out of town! I went after him, calling as I came.

He paused, swinging around, his fists on his wide hips, his arms looking as heavy and thick as young trees.

"Listen, you ape," I said. "This is my town and if you think I'm going to run because a cheap chiseler like you says the word, you'd better turn yourself into the psychopathic ward at Bellevue."

He moved his big head slowly from side to side. "Don't think I didn't warn you." His small eyes glittered redly in the half light. "You're just like that mugg Johnny Walnut. I tried to tell him to stay away from the dame, but he was always around, taking pictures, always taking pictures. And you ain't such a big shot, Green. Your agency will go on after you die, just like anything else." He swung on his heel again and walked away up the street, leaving me staring after him.

This time I did not follow.

Instead I turned and walked rapidly toward the subway, headed for my office.

*****

THE switchboard girl and Henry Gaylord were the only occupants when I arrived. Henry glanced at his watch. "Where have you been? I was just about to pull out."

"What about those train reservations?" I asked him.

"Nothing for tonight. The best I could do was tomorrow afternoon. The girls will just have to wait." I shrugged and, turning, led the way into my private office. He followed. "Have any trouble?"

"No real trouble," I said. "That guy Wilton showed up at the girls' apartment muttering threats. I started to throw him out but he got away before I could get my fingers on him. Then, as I was leaving, I ran into Rocco."

Henry's voice quickened with concern. "What happened?"

I shrugged. "Nothing much. He warned me to get out of town."

"The devil he did!"

I nodded. "He said he'd warned Walnut too, but the guy wouldn't listen. 'Always going around taking pictures,' Rocco said, 'taking pictures of everything.' Does that suggest anything to you?"

Henry looked blank. "What in the devil are you talking about now?"

I shrugged. "Maybe nothing. It's just an idea. Johnny was always taking pictures of everything. I never saw him without a camera, even if it were only a little one."

"That's true."

"And I'll bet anything that he had several cameras mounted around his dark-room. I'll bet you that some way, somehow, he managed to snap a picture of the man who killed him."

Henry was staring at me. "Why—but that's absurd. It was a dark room, the light wouldn't be good enough to get a picture, even a time exposure; and certainly the murderer, whoever he was, wouldn't stand still long enough to have his picture taken."

"Ever hear of infra-red film?" I asked.

I saw by his expression that he had.

"You don't need light to take pictures with that," I went on. "Don't you see? Johnny was a camera nut if I ever knew one. He used to delight in snapping me when I knew nothing about it and then showing me the candid shots. I'm going to call his sister—no, she said she was going over to stay with a cousin in Jamaica tonight. I'll have to catch her in the morning."

"Aren't you going to call the police?"

I shrugged. "Look, I tried to get the police to do something for me today and they acted as if their hands were tied behind their backs. I'm going to handle this myself. Maybe the idea is screwy. Maybe there isn't any camera or any film, but if there is, I'll find it in the morning."

He nodded, "I can see your point."

"And that's not all," I told him thoughtfully. "Rocco is getting scared."

"Scared? Are you crazy? From what you've said about that guy he isn't the kind that would get scared at anything."

I shrugged. "Maybe not, but he's gone out of his way to warn me to get out of town. If he wasn't scared of something, why should he bother? I think I know what's the matter with him."

"What?"

I said, "Let's look at it this way: Rocco got a break when Johnny was killed. Rocco was in the hospital at the time, and he can prove it. I think what's worrying him now is that he fears that something will happen to me, that the cops know that he and I had trouble and that they'll try to pin my death on him. Maybe he wouldn't be so lucky this time. Maybe he wouldn't have an alibi."

Gaylord nodded slowly. "I see your point. He knows that something's going to happen to you and he doesn't want to be blamed, so he's trying to get you out of town before this happens. Right?"

"It frames up that way."

"And who do you think is behind this?"

I shrugged. "Maybe Wilton. He seems to turn up at every opportunity."

"We'd better get you a bodyguard," Henry suggested. "We can't have anything happen to you."

"Then you don't think I should leave town for a while?"

He shrugged. "Suit yourself about that. If it were me, I'd go quick, but I'm not as knuckle-headed as you are. If I can help . . ."

"There's nothing you can do," I told him. "You might as well keep out of it. If anything should happen to me, you'll have to run the agency, but I've a notion that I can put the bite on Rocco and make him talk. The ape-man is beginning to get nervous. Funny as it sounds, I don't think he likes murder."

SIX: Killer's Motive

COMING out of my own apartment an hour later, I stopped to light a cigarette. As I ducked my head above the match flame something struck the corner just above my head, and a tiny chip of stone fell onto the sidewalk at my feet.

My reaction was purely instinctive as I jumped back into the doorway. I stood there in the shadow, staring out at the street.

It was quiet. A block over the Madison Avenue traffic made a steady hum, but there were only a few pedestrians and one cab within the block.

I looked at them searchingly, but none paid any attention to me. Then I reached around gingerly and felt the facing stone from which the chip had come.

There was a scar and I'd have taken my oath that it had come from a bullet, a bullet from a silenced gun. I started to shake. It wasn't from fear, but from reaction. This had gone far enough. It had to stop, or I wouldn't be around long.

I went back into the apartment, slipped through the side door and went hurriedly toward the corner of the avenue where I caught a cab, giving the driver the address of the girls' apartment.

It was Janet who let me in. She was dressed for the street with a little cocky hat perched on one side of her head and a veil shrouding her marred features. Not until that moment did I remember that I'd told them to be ready to leave.

"No reservations," I said. ''I'm sorry, I should have let you know. Has anything happened since I was here?"

"Wilton came, and then Rocco."

I stared at her. "Did they get in?"

She shook her head. "I talked to them through the speaking tube. Wilton wanted to know if you'd gone to the cops. Rocco was slinging threats as usual. Funny thing, I got the idea he was scared."

I stared at her. This girl was smart. She didn't miss many bets and she had nerve. If she hadn't, she wouldn't have bucked in the first place and wouldn't have had the acid thrown in her face.

Trim, too, a good model, and with the veil no one could distinguish the acid burns. I found myself liking her more, respecting her more than anyone I'd met in a long time.

"Look," I said. "I got the same idea about Rocco that you did. I've got the idea that the heat is on him and that he doesn't like it. If I play it right, I may be able to make him talk. Do you happen to know where he lives."

She didn't waste time asking questions. She said, "I don't know, but I know where I could find out. One of the girls followed him one night." She turned and, walking to the phone; dialed a number. She talked for a couple of minutes, then hung up, turned and gave me the address.

I nodded. "Thanks. Keep your door locked and I'll phone you as soon as I get through."

"Oh no you won't," she told me. "I'm going along. This I want to see."

"Now wait. Rocco's an ugly customer."

"You're telling me." She touched the veil. "Don't you think I've got a little right to see the rat squirm? There isn't much of anything he can do to me that hasn't already been done."

Her tone was bitter and I realized just how much those acid burns had meant to her, how it had wrecked her life.

"Come on, then."

Terri appeared from the bedroom. She also was dressed for the street and she said, ''I'm going too." There was a little tremor in her voice but her tone was resolute.

I hesitated, but I figured they would be safer if there were two of them. "Come on," I said, and led the way down to the waiting cab.

IT WASN'T far to Rocco's apartment and it was the same type of building. I didn't press the button under his mail box, as I didn't want the man to have any warning of our coming. Instead I hunted up the janitor, told him that we were giving a surprise party for Rocco and that we wanted the pass key to his apartment.

The man eyed me, then the two girls. I guess he figured that if I'd been planning any funny stuff I wouldn't have brought a couple of women with me. He traded the key for a twenty-dollar bill and went on about his business.

We went up the stairs quietly and I eased the key into the lock. If Rocco was there I meant to walk in before he had any warning of our presence. If he wasn't, I meant to wait until he returned.

The door swung open and I stepped in. There was no light in the apartment and I said to Janet in a low voice, "I guess he's not home. Well, we told the janitor we wanted to surprise him and I think when he walks in, Mr. Rocco will be very, very surprised."

I went on ahead, switching up the living- room light—and then I stopped.

Rocco was home. He sat in a chair, facing the door; his round bullet head fallen forward so that I could see only a part of the small hole that marred his forehead. He was quite dead.

Terri gave a gasping little cry. Janet made no sound at all. She just stood there, staring down at the ape-like man. The veil screened her face so that I had no idea of her expression.

She said, in a controlled voice: "It seems that someone had the same idea we did, that Rocco was scared and ready to talk. Someone made very certain that he wouldn't talk."

I nodded. "Look, you girls get back home and stay there. I've got an errand."

She looked at me and I had the sensation that this girl could read my mind. "What kind of errand?"

I shrugged. "One that I'd have taken care of sooner if I wasn't a fool."

"I'm going," she said, flatly.

"It's something that has to be done alone," I said. "If too many go, it will spoil it."

"We can wait in the cab," she said, and that was that. There was no use arguing with her. I relocked the door, praying that the janitor wouldn't see us. I didn't want to be held up with explanations to the police. But we saw nothing of him and gained the cab without incident.

I told the driver to park a block down the street from Johnny's, and traveled the remaining distance on foot, leaving the girls in the cab. I gave them strict orders not to move unless I failed to show up within half an hour, then they were to call the police.

As I neared the building, my heart started thumping faster, for there was a light burning in Johnny's apartment. I tried to control myself. Maybe the sister hadn't gone away, after all. Maybe... but still, I'd get a chance to look at the dark-room.

SOFTLY I advanced toward the apartment door, pulling the gun from my pocket and letting off the safety. The door was unlocked. I eased the knob over and thrust it open softly, listening for any sound of movement from within. There was none. I stepped in and eased the door shut, moving forward on soundless feet, the gun ever ready.

If the sister was home, she was in for a bad scare, but I couldn't help that. I moved to the living-room door and peered in. It was empty. So were the bedrooms and kitchen. That left only the dark-room at the end of the hall, and I drew a deep breath as I grasped the knob and thrust the door open. It was black inside. I stepped sideways so that I wouldn't be outlined in the rectangle of light—and I waited, holding my breath, listening until I could hear the blood pounding in my ears, but I could hear nothing else.

Finally I couldn't stand it any longer. "I know you're in here, show yourself."

Nothing happened, only the heavy silence bore in upon me. My nerves snapped. I didn't care what happened. I had to have some light, even if it brought the shot that killed me. I reached over and clicked up the switch.

Aside from myself the room was empty.

My knees seemed to turn to water and there was cold sweat across my forehead. I wiped it away with the back of a hand that trembled. I hadn't realized the strain I was under until that moment and I laughed aloud, laughed at myself. A touch of hysteria in the sound brought me to my senses. This wouldn't do. The murderer had evidently been here and gone, leaving the lights on—or the sister had forgotten to turn them off before leaving.

I looked around the dark-room. There were some twenty cameras in the place, some set up, others not. The thing to do was to remove all the films that the various cameras held, take them and have them developed. I set about it, shoving the gun into my pocket.

I must have been there ten minutes when a voice from the doorway said softly:

"Having fun?"

I swung around to see. Henry Gaylord in the doorway, smiling at me, a gun held loosely in his big hand. "Surprised?"

"No," I told him, slowly. "Not since I found Rocco. I wasn't much surprised even then, although up to that moment it had seemed impossible."

"That's the trouble with you," he said. "You've sold yourself on the idea that you're the great Austin Green, that nothing can touch you."

I shook my head. "Wrong, Henry. Where I failed was in being able to believe that a man I trusted could want something so badly that he would be willing to kill to get it."

He laughed at me. "And you set this little trap, up in your office, didn't you? You expected to walk in and catch me?"

I shrugged.

He said: "You had it wrong. I'm not a complete fool. I could see what you were thinking, so I set a trap for you. I hurried out here, made certain there was no infra-red film in any of the cameras, then I left the lights on and went outside. I wanted to see if you'd bring the cops with you. I rather thought you wouldn't, knowing how certain of yourself you are. I waited and saw you come in alone. I made sure no cops were hanging around, then I came in."

"To finish me?"

He nodded. "To finish you."

"Tell me," I said, and I was really curious, "have you always intended to kill me to get me out of the way so you could take over the agency?"

He shook his head. "I was trying to build one of my own. I had Rocco organize those girls. I meant at the right time to step in, offer to protect them from Rocco and start an agency. I had my eye on that Terri Hall. She's got something. Walnut was right. I was so mad at him when I found him gumming my game that I came out here to fix things. Then, after he was dead, I realized that if you were dead, too, I'd have the whole works."

MY MOUTH felt dry. "Are you going to beat me to death, the way you did Johnny?"

He shook his head. "A shot will be quicker. I tried it outside your apartment. If I'd connected then, this wouldn't have been necessary."

"Okay," I said, stiffly. "Go ahead, let's get it over with." There was no use stalling. I'd told, the girls to call the police if I wasn't back at the cab, but I knew they'd never arrive in time.

He said: "I got no pleasure from killing Walnut. I was mad. I'm not now, but I'm going to enjoy this. I've hated your guts, Austin, ever since I've worked for you. I've hated your high-and-mighty attitude as if you were playing God. Count ten, my friend, count as fast or as slowly as you like, because when you reach ten, I'm going to squeeze this trigger."

"No," said a calm voice behind him. "Not unless you want a bullet between your shoulder blades. Drop the gun."

It was Janet, her veil pulled back to show the scars across her face, her little gun in her hand.

Gaylord turned. He didn't drop his gun, and she fired. The light-caliber bullet struck him in the chest, but it didn't knock him down.

He said, savagely, "It's you, huh? Acid wasn't enough. Take this then."

I jumped against him from the rear, jiggling his gun arm so that the bullet went over Janet's head. He dropped his gun but he wasn't through. He swung back, his arms locking about me and I realized that I under the layer of soft fat were muscles that would put Rocco to shame.

I felt the breath being squeezed out of my lungs. I felt sick and dizzy. I tried to break the grip and failed. It seemed to draw only that much tighter. I beat at him with my fists, but I knew that my blows were getting weaker. The bullet from Janet's little gun seemed to have no effect; at least it hadn't sapped his strength.

But Janet wasn't through. She'd caught up the heavier gun and now she clubbed him with it. He turned away from me, like a bull, cornered, and tried to snatch the gun from her.

I measured him and put everything I had into the blow to the chin. It rocked him back on his heels and I struck again and again, beating him down before me, remembering Johnny's broken body, remembering Janet's scarred face. Even after he slumped against the wall and slid down into a sitting position, I kept on hammering. I think I'd have beaten the life from him if Jane hadn't caught my arm and hauled me back.

"Austin, stop it, stop it!"

Her words came faintly through the red haze that seemed to surround me. I shook my head and some of the roaring went out of my ears. She held my shoulders, shaking me. "All right?"

"All right," I told her, thickly.

She held on for a moment longer, then she turned and, walking to the phone, called the police.

THE cops had come and taken Gaylord away. I walked slowly to the cab with a girl on either side of me. "That's over," I said. "Are you going to report to my office tomorrow, Terri?"

Terri nodded.

Janet said, musingly, "It's strange that a man like Gaylord—when did you suspect him first?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. I didn't really know it was him until we found Rocco, but little things all along the line point to him now that I know. First, he knew about this models' association of Rocco's although I'd never heard of it. Then, he knew that it was Johnny that had interested me in Terri. No one else, not even Wilton, or Rocco could know that. Also, he knew Johnny had taken Terri home. I was a fool to miss seeing it sooner, but he'd worked for me, been with me... Let's forget him and think about you."