Evening Star Newspaper, October 14, 1935, Page 32

DAILY SHORT STORY-: DEAD MEN TALK By Abhlene Fitch. LXTI'LE JOEY is M my pal. So when he spots me treezin® down the “gnain drag., with Icer Gus and Hot- shot Henry tailin’ tme not 30 feet dis- tant, he gets scared. “Spike,” he mut- ters hoarsely, pluckin’ at my sleeve as I pass him, “you're bein’ tailed! By Stiffy's men! They'll chop you down sure when you pass the corner. Maybe you can make it up this alley.” “well, hi there, Joey,” 1 remark cheerfully, stoppin’ to slap him on the back. “How's tricks?"” “Look here!"” sputters Joey, “didn't you catch what Y said? You're bein' tailed! Stifiy's had men after you for six weeks. Ever since you busted away from the gans. Now this alley—" “It's -muddy,” I tell him. “And I got on my good shoes.” “For Pete's sake, Spike!” Little Joey mops the sweat off his forehead and then twists his neck to take one more glimmer at the two hotshots Jeanin’ against a buildin’ 30 feet away end waitin’ calm-like for me to move on. “Have you blew your top, Spike? You're cold meat, once them choppers git a good straight aim at you. Cold meat, Spike! Stiffy’s sore at you for leavin' the-gang and he says you know too much.” * Kk Xk ok THE two boys down Vermont avenue | i shift about a little, like maybe | Little Joey their feet is hurtin’ them. Joey sees *em and the goose pimples on him | rise up like the Rockies. “Maybe its curtains for you right now, Spike,” he murmurs broken-liks, | and backs up so as not to spoil Icer | Gus' aim—in case he takes one. “Skip it,” comes my meITy answer. *Them guys is just trailin® me for protection. To see I don't come to %o harm, as it were.” For maybe 30 seconds Joey stares #t me open-mouthed. Then he shakes his head sadly and mutters somethin” about anyway it ain't gonna hurt m2 s0 much, me not bein’ in my right mina. “Listen, Joey,” I tel! him, “You're right about how I broke away from Stiffy’s gang and about how he hates me and would thrill to sendin’ me lilies.” “And ain't it on the up an’ up that you got enough on every man in the crowd t’' send ’em up the river for & stretch?” “Nothin’ truer. An’ that's how come them mugs back there ain't gonna put the finger on me. I know too much, see.” * x x % »"IT USED to be,” said Little Joey desperately, “that dead men told o tales.” “The old order of things,” I retort. *But that’s all done away with. Now it’s stiffs which talk. Dead men ain't safe bets no more. I fixed that.” “Maybe,” suggests Joey wearily, *you couid explamn.” He lamps the thoppers down Vermont avenue again. “And if you don't git finished,” he mdos, “maybe I figger out the rest.” “For three years,” I begin, “I was Btiffy's right-hand man here in Wash- ington. Nothin’ went through but I put my okay on it. Also, I was the fellow vihich made all the new con- tracts.” “Yeh, I know,” says Jgey. “You was out of town a lot.” He takes an- other pleat in his neck. “I guess,” he says low, “you should of stayed out of town, too.” “Joey,” 1 digress, “the Lord should of put eyes on both sides of you.” “I get by,” an- swers Joey. “But about Stiffy. You was right - hand man. Then you quarreled.” “Right. We got in a tight squeeze on that Goldholm deal and Stiffy started passin’ the gaff to me. Stiffy never could take it. And so we split up.” “And you blew the Capital,” re- is my pal. i minded Joey. “Right again. Stiffy had every mug in the bunch out after me. Every one in the gang knew he'd be a big shot with Stiffy if he brought back my hide.” i “Tough,” murmurs Joey. He turns his head. “Tough,” he repeats. * ok ¥ X "S'I'ILL right,” I agree. “Nights I couldn't sleep. Days I was scared to turn my back on a doorway. It was hell.” “So you've just come back home t' take it,” chokes Joey, and he grasps my hand. “No,” I retort. “Then one night I get this big idea.” “Idea?” asks Joey. “That means a plan” I inform him. “I sneak back to town. I see half a dozen lawyers on the way. And half a dozen more in Washington. And a dozen friends. I give each one of them one of the sealed packages. I make all arrangements. Then I go to see Stiffy.” “You been to see Stiffy!™ chokes Joey, his mouth puttin' Mammoth Cave to shame. “I go to see Stiffy,” I repeat for him. “And I say, ‘Well, Stiffy, I have dropped in to be shot.’” “No!” “Yes, Joey. Then I go on like this: ‘Before you plug me, though, one thing I should wise you up on. With 24 friends in this and other towns I have left sealed envelopes containin’ information. Valuable information, Stiffy. About you and all your men. “‘But them envelopes ain't to ke opened, pal, until I croak. Each and every friend gets in touch with me each and every day to find out am I well and happy. And when just one of them guys fails to reach me, Stiffy, he will deliver pronto to the cops the sealed envelope. “‘But don’t you worry none, Stiffy, pal. Account of as long as I live, probably you may get to live, too. Unless the bulls take you some other way, over which I have no control.’” “Lord!” murmurs Joey, rubbing his eyes. “And now, so long, Little Joey,” I remark, as I turn and start back down the street. And when they see me coming Icer Gus stands respectfully to one side and Hotshot Henry stoops to pick up a banana peel, because he is afraid I might slip on it and break my neck. 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