Murder is Not an Odd Job by Ralph Dennis

Author:Ralph Dennis [Dennis, Ralph]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781732422667
Publisher: Brash Books
Published: 2019-01-31T22:00:00+00:00

At ten of ten, a light cold rain was falling. It was like an Atlanta drizzle but with a sting to it. I was half a block down the street, in a doorway. We’d tagged the building earlier in the day in a slow-moving cab. It was a narrow shotgun building with a kind of gray shingle front. About fifteen minutes before, Hump had left me to work his way around the block and come in from the other direction. The way I figured it, if we’d been set up, they’d be watching me from a window above the street. If they saw me alone, they’d watch the street behind me to see if I was being followed. When they didn’t see Hump, they’d decide that I’d bought the setup. After I entered Hump, would follow me in.

At five minutes to ten, I left the doorway and headed for the apartment building. I stayed near the curb, out in the wet splash of light. I acted some, hesitating now and then to read a house number, until I reached the shotgun building and read the number in the half moon of glass above the entranceway. There was a dim light in the small hall and a couple of rows of mailboxes and buzzers to the left. It was just enough light to read the names on the mailboxes. The name on Number 8 was, as Frankie had said it would be, R. N. Snider. I gave the buzzer a long push and moved over to the door. While I gripped the knob with one hand, I reached into my pocket and brought out the pack of book matches. As soon as I heard the buzzer answered, I swung the door open and stepped through. I turned and lodged the matches between the doorframe and the lock. I pushed the door shut and spun around.

The only light came from the second landing. It was enough to show me that the stairs were on the left. To the right there was a hall and a row of doors leading to apartments. Dark back there.

I started up the stairs. I was halfway up when a long shape, tall and narrow, blocked out part of the light by appearing on the landing. “Hardman? Frankie’s up here.”

“Coming.”

I was four steps away from him when I heard the squeaking board in the dark hall below. It was reflex and the wrong move: I turned and looked back. That was when the tall man made his move. I felt rather than saw it. I pushed away from the railing toward the wall. Something hard hit the railing where I’d been a split second before. I bounced off the wall and grabbed at him. I got a handful of wet wool topcoat. I pulled the man in closer to me. At the same time I used my other hand to feel for what he’d swung at me. I caught the end of it and tried to hang on. It was a piece of pipe about a foot long.

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