The Year's Best Mystery & Suspense Stories 1985 by Edward D. Hoch

Author:Edward D. Hoch [Hoch, Edward D.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

He awoke terrified. Then he realized he was still lying on his back on the scratchy, worn carpet, on the motionless, firm floor of his hotel room, and the terror left him.

But only for a moment.

Staring down at him was Carl Atwater, flanked by his two bonecrushers.

Ernie started to get up, then fell back, supporting himself on his elbows. He searched the faces of the three men looming over him and was surprised to see a relaxed smile on Carl’s shrewd features, deadpan indifference on those of his henchmen. “Look, about that thousand dollars. . .” he said, trying to ride the feeble ray of sunshine in Carl’s smile.

“Don’t worry about that, Ernie, old buddy,” Carl said. He bent forward, offering his hand.

Ernie gripped the strong, well-manicured hand, and Carl helped him to his feet. He was still weak, so he moved over to lean on the desk. The eyes of the three men followed him.

“You don’t owe me the thousand anymore,” Carl said.

Ernie was astounded. He knew Carl; they lived by the same unbreakable code. “You mean you’re going to cancel the debt?”

“I never cancel a debt,” Carl said in an icy voice. He crossed his arms, still smiling. “Let’s say you worked it off. When we heard you checked in at the Hayes, we got right down here. We were in the building across the street ten minutes after you were shown to this room.”

“You mean the three of you?. . .”

“Four of us,” Carl corrected.

That was when Ernie understood. The two bonecrushers were pros; they would never have allowed him to escape, even temporarily, out the window. They had let him get away, boxed him in so that there was no place to go but out onto the ledge. The whole thing had been a setup. After locking the window, the two bonecrushers had gone across the street to join their boss. Ernie knew who the fourth man must be.

“You’re off the hook,” Carl told him, “because I bet a thousand dollars that you’d find a way off that ledge without getting killed.” There was a sudden genuine flash of admiration in his smile, curiously mixed with contempt. “I had faith in you, Ernie, because I know you and guys like you. You’re a survivor, no matter what. You’re the rat that finds its way off the sinking ship. Or off a high ledge.”

Ernie began to shake again, this time with rage. “You were watching me from across the street. The three of you and whoever you placed the bet with. . .All the time I was out there you were watching, waiting to see if I’d fall.”

“I never doubted you, Ernie,” Carl told him.

Ernie’s legs threatened to give out at last. He staggered a few steps and sat slumped on the edge of the mattress. He had come so close to dying; Carl had come so close to backing a loser. “I’ll never place another bet,” he mumbled. “Not on a horse, a football game, a roulette wheel, a political race.

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