Dead Man's Tale Read Free Page B

out!”
    Andy got up and left.
    They’re going to kill him, Steve thought. They’re going to rub out Barney Street for no reason except that the bitch wants them to.
    Gutless wonder, Steve said to himself. That’s what you are!
    He reached for the bottle, but what whisky was left made him gag.
    Gutless wonder.…
    Because you’re not going to do a damn thing about it.
    There were only three things Estelle Street had to do that night after Petey Taurasi went into Huntington to see a sexy movie, and all three were apple pie. First, to make sure that the front gate wasn’t locked. Second, to see that the gate to the Dobermans’ run was locked. Third …
    Estelle went down the wooden stairs that hugged the bluff overlooking the Sound. It was a warm, windless night. She slipped out of her terry-cloth robe and stood for a moment on the sand, watching the moonlight dapple the water with silver.
    This would be her first swim of the season. The water would be cold, but afterwards the thick robe would cuddle her. Estelle loved to swim. She liked it best when the water was cold and her nipples puckered and stiffened. It was best when she was swimming alone, in the night, naked.
    She looked back once at the high-gabled house on the bluff, a cutout in black paper against the moonlighted sky. Some house! she thought. Charles Addams would go wild over it. Barney had started with a small Tudor-type building and had added and added to it, endlessly. Good old Barney, Estelle thought. Good old loud, tasteless, big-hearted slob. You were great when you had it. But now …
    She said a four-letter word aloud, repeated it, said it a third time. As if it reminded her of something, she looked down at herself with enjoyment, ran her hands over her flanks, gleaming in the moonlight. Then she walked into the Sound.
    The water was cold, so cold it made her gasp with delight. She swam a few strokes, rolled over on her back.
    She thought she heard a car somewhere above the beach. Not far. On the bluff.
    Estelle did a whirlabout in a shower of silver drops and with a smooth, fast crawl swam out into deep water.
    The car stopped on the circular driveway and two men got out. The big one wore slacks and a sports shirt with the collar laid back. The other was little and skinny and wore a dark-blue suit. The big man, who had been driving, left the motor idling. The two men stood quietly for a moment, listening to the Dobermans.
    â€œI’m not wild about this,” the little man said.
    The big man shrugged. “They’re locked up. You worry too much.”
    â€œI just don’t like them dogs,” the little man insisted. “I heard all about Barney Street’s dogs.”
    â€œYou’re a regular old lady,” the big man said. “Come on.”
    The front door was not locked. There was a light on in the hall and another on the stairway landing. The high-pile carpet in the hall and on the stairs muffled their footfalls. They went up side by side, not hurrying.
    â€œEstelle?” a voice above them called. “Wasn’t that a car?”
    They reached the top of the stairs and turned left. There were two dark doorways and one door partly open with light behind it. They went to the partly open door and heard someone shuffling around beyond it.
    â€œEstelle?” The door started to close.
    The big man raised his foot and kicked it open.
    Barney Street stood there, a silly smile on his face.
    The big man shot the smile off his face three times with a .45. The little man shot him in the belly once with a snub Police Positive. When Barney Street fell down he didn’t look much like anything any more.
    The two men went down the stairs. Out of the house, they climbed into their car. The big man drove it sedately around the circular driveway, heading for the gate. The dogs were still barking.
    When Estelle saw the headlights swing out onto the road, she rolled over again and began to swim