Free Silent Are the Dead by George Harmon Coxe Page B

of them Dixon, and a woman.
    One of the men looked up as Casey and McCann approached; the others were intent upon the wheel. No word was spoken as McCann tossed down two fifty-dollar bills. The croupier automatically stuffed them in a slot in the table and slid some chips to one side.
    The ball came to a stop and he raked in the bets. Pausing a moment as new bets were placed, he spun it again. McCann put a quarter of his chips on 17. The woman looked at him. She was a bleached blonde of 50 or so with a diamond choker and a half-pound of diamonds on her two hands.
    Casey lit a cigarette and watched McCann lose his $100 in four spins. He got more chips, cut down the size of his bets but made more of them; playing the 0 and the block around 17. He won twice but within five minutes the second $100 was gone. Casey took his arm. “Come here,” he said and dragged him to one side.
    McCann gave him a drunken grin. “How’m I doin’?”
    â€œTerrific,” said Casey. “Look.” He lowered his voice and pulled McCann closer. “Can you let me have a couple of yards?”
    â€œSure. You wanna play?”
    â€œNo. I—”
    McCann looked up at him, the foxiness in his eyes again. “No, you don’t,” he said, wagging his finger. “I know you. You can’t—”
    â€œBut listen.” Casey turned on the sadness. “I mean it. I’m behind on the payments on my car. I got a notice today. And the last installment on my income tax is due. I’m in a spot, kid.”
    McCann weakened. “Now wait a minute—”
    â€œIf you can’t make it two, make it a yard and a half.”
    â€œAw, here.” McCann wiped three 50’s from the thin stack. “Here. Stop makin’ me cry.”
    Casey watched him stagger back to the table and then he saw that the croupier’s assistant was watching him. The fellow was a jut-jawed husky and he knew what had happened and he didn’t like it. He didn’t know how much Casey had nicked McCann for, but he did know that whatever it was, the house wouldn’t get it that night. He bunched his lips and glowered.
    At the doorway he turned. The man was still glowering. Casey waved at him. He felt pretty good going downstairs, thinking how he’d saved something out for McCann, and then he thought about Wade and glanced at his strap watch.
    It was well after two now and be turned toward the bar, mumbling to himself, determined to have one more drink and then go home to bed whether Wade came or not. He got the drink and drank it, neither hurrying nor taking his time; when Wade did not appear he went downstairs, bought his coat and hat back from the blonde, and went out with a good night for Nick and a chuckle for the youth with patent-leather hair who accompanied him to the outer door.
    â€œYou ought to watch yourself.” Casey said. “You hadn’t ought to let people in here unless they show their card.”
    The youth cursed as the door closed behind Casey. He buttoned his coat, standing on the top step and glancing up and down the street. When he couldn’t see Wade, he went down the steps toward his car.
    There was a man sitting on the bottom step of the house next door. He was smoking a cigarette:
    â€œSee you a minute?” he said hoarsely.
    Casey paused. The man stood up. “You’re Casey, ain’t yuh?” he said. And then, before Casey could answer, he saw the gun and stiffened, hearing a sound of movement behind him, half-turning toward it as a second man walked from between two parked cars.
    â€œStand still!” the first man said. The other stepped up behind Casey and jabbed a gun in his back. The first man circled round so that he, too, was behind Casey and slightly to one side. ‘“Down the street, pal,” he said. “We’ll tell you when to stop.”
    Casey hesitated but a moment. If he’d had any chance to give them an argument