The Cop on the Corner Read Free Page B

floated across Gladys' lips.

         “Sure, it checks,” she said. “You killed him because you knew he was coming back for me. You knew I'd go to him. You knew that all this time I've been carrying a torch for him, filling myself with gin, chaining myself to this rattrap of a room, trying to forget about him. And you, with your dough, with your sharp clothes, you thought you could take his place. But you couldn't, Vince. No man could. No man ever will.”

         Vince looked at Elrick. “Don't listen to her. She's rotted with gin. She's talkin' in a daze.”

         “Let her talk,” Elrick said.

         “Sure, let me talk,” Gladys said. “It does me good to talk now.” The smile that she fastened on Vince was eerie, and she went on, “I never knew what happened on that New Year's Eve. I never knew the real reason why Jimmie left town. You told me it was for business reasons. You were moving in on his gambling territory, and you told him to shove, and he was yellow, and he shoved. That's what you told me. That's what I believed. But somehow— somehow, Vince, it was in the cards for Jimmie to come back to me. And you were waiting for that day. You and Lou—waiting for him! You killed him, Vince! You killed the only thing that ever mattered to me!”

         Forgetting about Elrick's pistol, she aimed fingernails at Vince's throat. The heavy-set guy fell back. He let out a yell of fear, fell from the bed, and then he rolled over. And he collided with Elrick, who was trying to show Gladys the muzzle of the pistol.

         Elrick went back against the wall as he saw Gladys lunging at Vince. Again her fingernails were in action. The cop let out a curse and then he was wondering what to say and he grabbed at the standby phrase of all tough-neighborhood policemen.

         “Break it up!” he yelled.

         But Gladys was insane now. She did not see the pistol that was pointed at her. She did not care. And her only thought, her only desire was to fasten her fingernails in the jugular vein of Vince Mazzione.

         “Stop her!” Vince screeched.

         It looked bad for Vince. The cop realized that he would not be able to do much with the pistol. Already Gladys had her fingernails in the throat of the heavy-set guy, and she was ripping, and the blood was dribbling over his collar and tie.

         Elrick dropped the pistol. He clamped a hold on Gladys' arm, twisted hard and pulled back. Gladys let out a shriek and tried to jab an elbow into Elrick's middle. The cop told himself that it was too bad he had to be so rough with a woman, and he twisted the arm again. Gladys let out another shriek and she was cursing and kicking and squirming and Elrick placed a hold on her other arm. He dragged her away from Vince.

         “Now calm down,” he said.

         “Yeah,” Vince said, holding a handkerchief to his throat. “That's good advice.”

         Quickly he bent down, brought the pistol up and pointed it.

         “You stay here with her, copper! Just stay here and talk to her for a while.”

         ELRICK called himself a few hundred fancy names. “Where do you think you're going,

         Vince?” he asked.

         “I'm running to the drug store for an ice cream soda,” Vince said. “Then I'm leaving town. Maybe South America. Maybe Canada. You can guess at it.”

         “You're not smart, Vince. You'll be picked up in no time.”

         “Let me go, copper!” Gladys yelled. “Let me go! I don't care if he shoots me! At least I'll get in his way—you'll be able to grab him!”

         “You wouldn't do a thing like that, would you, copper?” Vince said.

         He was near the door. There was a smile on his face and there was something sad about it.

         “I'll be sayin' good-by, Gladys,” Vince said. “I don't want to leave you, baby, but I don't have any choice now. Maybe some day you'll find