Free Canvas Coffin by William Campbell Gault

You boys may as well know I blanked out from the seventh round until breakfast the next morning. I learned later, from Max, about the party and about taking the redhead-Mary Kostanic home. Or rather, going home with her. I want to know what happened, too, damn you.
I want to know if I’m a murderer.”
    Silence, while both of them stared at me.
    Sally said, “That wasn’t very bright, Luke. Only you and Max and I knew about the blackout, until now.”
    “They can take it to the law,” I told her, “and then try to explain why they’ve been so quiet about their part in it. They could take years to explain that away.”
    “It still wasn’t very bright,” Sally said.
    “Neither am I. Well, boys?”
    Harry looked thoughtfully at Noodles. Noodles still stared at me.
    Then Harry smiled. “We ain’t mad no more, huh, Noodles?”
    Noodles shrugged. A flicker of cunning crossed his thin face.
    Harry said, “Was it that high right hand, in the seventh, Champ? Was that what put you in the black?”
    “That was it.” I continued to look at the little cabbie. “Was Mary alive when you picked me up at the curb?”
    “I don’t know. That’s straight. There was a light on up there, but nothing moving, so I don’t know.”
    “That’s no help,” I said. “Do you remember a bakery sign on the supermarket at the top of the hill above that Conference Grounds. It’s a Mayfair Market.”
    “Bakery sign?” Noodles frowned. “You mean one of them windmills?”
    “That’s right. What happened there?”
    “You got me. Nothing.”
    “Did you come into the hotel with me?”
    He shook his head. “You gave me a ten and told me to keep the change, and I took off.”
    “I was drunk?”
    “No, I don’t think so. You didn’t weave any. You seemed kind of — oh, hell — punchy, I guess.”
    Sally said, “You probably walked right past the clerk at the desk. Luke, your hand — ”
    “Yup,” I said. “Bone broken, I’m sure.”
    “Geez,” Harry said. “Champ, you standing there and that hand — That’s your living, man — You’d better — ”
    “I’ll be going in a minute,” I said. “Noodles, whether you like me or not, I’d appreciate everything you can tell me. You won’t have to go to the law, if I killed her. I will.”
    “That’s all I know,” Noodles said. “So help me, that’s every word of it.”
    “Sally,” I said, “phone Max at the hotel. Tell him to have a doctor there. He’ll know a good one. I don’t want just any doctor on this hand. We’d better go; it’s getting bad.”
    Harry said, “You should have hit me with a bottle or a chair, Champ. Christ, that’s — ” He was chewing his full lower lip.
    “I’ll drop in again,” I said. “I’ve got to get some air.”
    The floor wavered a little, but I made the sunlight and felt better. I stood next to the doorway, sucking in the warm air, trying to concentrate on not getting sick.
    Then Sally came out, the keys in her hand. “Max will have a doctor there. Let’s go. You’re all right, Luke?”
    “It feels worse than it is,” I said, “but don’t lose any time.”
    She made the flivver talk, and they talk very well for their size and weight. We got to the hotel a few minutes before the doctor.
    Max met us at the door, his face stormy. “What in the hell kind of mess is this, now?” He didn’t look at Sally.
    Neither of us answered him. I sat in the big chair near the window; Sally went to get me a drink of water.
    “Brawling,” Max said, “like some slap-happy bum. What came over you?”
    “Self-defense, Max,” I said. “Remember Harry Bevilaqua?”
    “I think. Freak — big freak? Nobody ever put him away, though.”
    “I just did. And I learned how I got back from the redhead’s.”
    “How?”
    “Cab. The girl phoned Harry for help, and he sent a cabbie up. Maybe he came in his car instead of a cab; I didn’t check that. Anyhow,
she
phoned.”
    “Then she was alive when you left her.”
    “The