Dig My Grave Deep Read online

  The next time she tried to knee him Port lost his temper. He picked her up, tossed her over the ditch, and was next to her when she jumped up. There was one heated look between them and then the front of her dress came apart in one loud rip. She froze, but Port wasn't through. He reached out and tore the rest she had on, and when she tried to free her arm to claw him, he yanked it all down.

  He was holding her as if she might get away long after Shelly had no such thought.

  He had taken his jacket off and Shelly was wearing it, and when she had reached for the cigarette he had lit for her she left the jacket the way it had fallen because they were still far out of town. Port was surprised to see how far they had come.

  She said, “Your place, or mine, Daniel?”

  “Mine's more private.”

  “But mine is closer.”

  “And I got better accommodations.”

  “Except my clothes are at home.”

  He shook his head sadly and kept on driving....

  “Mind you,” she said, “it's no problem right now, but with no clothes how will I ever get out of here?”

  Port said, “Huh?”

  She rolled on her stomach and pulled the pillow out from under his head.

  “I said, with no clothes, Daniel...”

  “Yes. It's been on my mind something terrific.” She smiled down at him and then reached across to turn on the radio that stood by the side of the bed.

  “It's a fact,” he said. “You'll never get out of here....” The radio was still playing the next morning. Of course, there was nothing in the refrigerator. They held out till the afternoon, and then Port went shopping. He bought coffee, and steak, and lettuce, and eggs for breakfast. He forgot a number of things, including the bread, but they didn't notice that till the next day.

  Port woke up from the sound of the shower and jumped up very quickly, but when he got to the bathroom Shelly was through already and wrapped in a towel.

  She said, “Why, don't you always take your showers alone?” and laughed when he tried to grab her.

  His shower was a disappointment to him, but he took it so fast Shelly was still wet when he came out again....

  She couldn't see him because it was dark in the room, but she knew he was looking at her.

  “Are you awake?” he asked.

  “For hours.”

  “Then why didn't you answer me before?”

  “Did I have to?”

  “Yes.”

  She came closer and put her arms around him.

  “Ask me again.”

  “Will you come with me?”

  He noticed that she was holding her breath, and when she exhaled she didn't say anything.

  “Will you answer me?”

  “I don't have to, Daniel. You know that.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  He bought her some clothes which she wore just long enough to go out and buy herself something that fit. She took much longer than she had ever done in the past, because Port had told her to spend all he had given her. He waited for her in a hushed room with hushed salesladies and the clothes displayed ornamentally. There were no ashtrays, and Port felt uncomfortable.

  After that they went out and had their first full meal in several days and finished with coffee. Port offered her a cigarette but she didn't want one.

  “You look sleepy,” he said.

  “So would you be,” she said. “You don't know what it's like, shopping.”

  He said, “Of course,” and then they sat a while longer.

  “I have to go now,” said Port. “There's still some business.”

  It changed her mood. It showed even though she tried biding it.

  “A few days, Shelly, and it'll be over.”

  “Why not now, Daniel. What's a few days?”

  “A promise.”

  “And then we leave?”

  “For good, Shelly. Both of us.”

  She smiled at him and nodded. She took a mirror out of her bag and looked at her lipstick. Then she straightened her hair.

  “I'm ready, Daniel. Drop me off at home.”

  “Look, Shelly,” he started.

  “I want to see Nino, to tell him that I'm leaving.”

  Port drove past the club on his way to her house and thought how often he had been in this street and how soon he wouldn't see it any more. And Shelly thought how she would never look at these streets again because she would pick up a few things, explain to her brother, and then leave for good.

  After she had opened the door to the kitchen she and Port stood there a moment because they hadn't recognized Ramon.

  He sat more bent than usual and when he turned he did it slowly. One side of his face was puffed and discolored, a white piece of tape covered part of his eye, and he earned one arm as if his shoulder was sore.

  “Nino!” She ran to the table and stopped only when she saw how he was afraid she might touch him. “Nino! Can you talk? Will you tell me what...”

  “I can talk,” he said.

  His voice was normal, and looking at him from a certain angle, even his face looked the same. But he had changed.

  “You don't look surprised,” he said to Port.

  Port closed the door and came over.

  “Like maybe you knew it all along,” Ramon went on.

  Port sat down and said, “Don't be an ass.”

  “Nino, will you please look at me. Nino, what happened?”

  “You don't see Danny Port asking questions, do you, Shelly? He knows already.”

  Shelly looked at Port, and for a moment he was reminded of the way she used to look at him, here in the kitchen, not too many days ago.

  “He got beat up,” said Port. “By the Reform Party.”

  Shelly didn't act as if she had heard, as if it weren't important. She took off her coat, put it over a chair, and went to her brother. “Get up, Nino.” She took him under the arms. “Nino. Can you get up?”

  “Leave me be.”

  “You are going to lie down and sleep, if you can. Come to your room.”

  He came with her and lay down on the bed and Shelly took off his shoes. “Sleep now. I'll take care of you.”

  “Sure,” he said. “Between you and him, over there...”

  “Be quiet, Nino.”

  “And close my eyes? And turn the other way while you and that bastard...”

  “Shut up, Ramon,” Port said from the doorway.

  “Shut up? I should keep quiet when nobody else does? You know what they said, what they asked me? They called me a pimp!” Ramon screamed. “Whether I pimped for her and what is Port paying! That's what they asked me, you stinking bastard.”

  Ramon stopped, coughing badly, and when he turned on his side to hide his face Shelly put out her hand and stroked his hair. Port said nothing because he saw how Ramon felt.

  “Nino, don't,” she said. She said it several times, soothingly, and kept stroking his head.

  After a while he turned around and sat up. He had changed again, back to the cold, suspicious man they had found in the kitchen.

  “They were riding you,” said Port. “You know what they said isn't true.”

  “Do I? Where were you all this time?”

  “I was with Daniel,” said Shelly.

  “You don't mean it!”

  “I sleep with whom I like.”

  “Did you sleep good?”

  Shelly drew back her hand and stood up, but didn't say anything.

  “Don't take it out on her,” said Port. “I don't care how bad you're hurt, Ramon, but don't take it out on her.”

  “You don't scare me any more, Port. I've had mine.”

  “I'm not trying to scare you, but don't talk like a pimp. You're her brother.”

  Ramon didn't like it. “That's why I'm telling you, Port. Get the hell out of here.”

  “What happened?” Port made a pause. “Did you talk?”

  The whole thing came back to Ramon, the two men and Bellamy waiting in the room i
n the basement. They had started to beat him without explanation, and then Bellamy had said to lay off for a minute. He had asked, “What did you hear on the phone, what did you tell Port, what was he after, what's he going to do, what'll he spring, what, what, what,” and each time they had hit him, in the same place, each time in the same place till he thought his face would burst open. He hadn't told them a thing.

  He didn't know whether it was because he hadn't known anything or because he was strong. The doubt made a sore knot in his chest.

  “What did you tell them, Ramon?”

  “Nothing!”

  “Would you have, if you had known anything?”

  “Get out! Scram the hell outa here!”

  Port sat down on the bed and took out his cigarettes. Then he asked Shelly to leave. She went to the kitchen and they could hear her at the stove.

  “Something's eating you, and maybe I ought to know.”

  “Beat it.”

  “We're through?”

  “I told you, Port, you don't scare me one bit.”

  Port took a deep breath, put a cigarette in his mouth, and offered one to Ramon. Ramon didn't take it.

  “Maybe you don't remember, Nino...”

  “Don't call me that.”

  “You're too mean not to be scared. But not of me. I never gave you cause, did I, Ramon?”

  Ramon looked away.

  “I even warned you not to get that way.”

  “So what? You warned me about getting beat up, too. That doesn't make me any less sore.”

  Port took a drag of his cigarette and watched the smoke disappear.

  “I give you one more piece of advice. Get out of it, Ramon. You're not built for it.”

  Ramon laughed hard, even though it hurt his face.

  “The boot? I did the job, and now I get the boot?”

  “I think you're out already. Except not the way I meant.”

  “You know so much.”

  “I think you switched. You got in real deep this time, and switched to Bellamy.”

  “I did?”

  “You'll find out, Ramon. It's no joke, if you stay.”

  “You buying me back?”

  “There's a difference between you and me, kid—at least I know a mistake.”

  “You've had more experience.”

  “That's true, and a good reason why you should listen to me.”

  “Why don't you leave?” said Ramon. The good side of his face looked cocky, but the bad one looked soft and tired.

  “I brought you some tea,” said Shelly and put the tray next to the bed. She turned to look at Port. “Is he leaving with us?” And to Ramon, “You're coming with us?”

  Ramon saw how Port's face got very still.

  “I shouldn't have told him?” said Shelly.

  “I don't know. He's in deep.”

  “Nino, what did you do?”

  “Nothing. It's the same as before, except he's trying to make something of it. That Reform crowd is any worse than your outfit? Don't make me laugh, Port!”

  “I wouldn't. They're both the same. Except you were working for me, not the Stoker outfit.”

  Ramon laughed good and hard this time, screwing his face around so it wouldn't hurt so much.

  “Nino, answer me!”

  “He joined up with Bellamy.”

  “Because he made sense! When I didn't crack he sat up, and then he made sense. About old man Stoker half dead, about you never giving a damn, about Fries who's a jerk from way back, and what Bellamy had to offer on the other side. I look out for myself, and that's all I go by.”

  “But Nino, it's no good. Daniel told me. And he asked you to come.”

  “I didn't hear any such thing,” said Ramon. “All I know is he's got hold of you and he's lamming out.”

  “I said you made a mistake, Ramon, and maybe you can make it good. I don't want you along, but if you want out I'll give you a hand.”

  All Ramon heard was the part about Shelly. All he could think of was Shelly and Port and how it had all worked out for them, just as if he had planned it himself the way he had once wanted to plan it himself. And Bellamy had called him a pimp.

  “It's not only that I'm staying,” he said, “but so is Shelly.”

  Port got up and looked for a place to drop his cigarette. He dropped it out the window and came back to the bed. He took Shelly's arm and said, “Come along.”

  “I'm staying, Daniel. He's sick.” When Port frowned she went on. “I'm not staying because of the way he talked, but because he needs me. You go home alone. Call for me when it's time.”

  Port smiled and hated himself. She hadn't meant what he had thought.

  “Wear something nice,” he said. “We got a party tonight.”

  He went to the door, but Ramon called him back.

  “So you don't get it wrong, you bastard.” He waited till Port turned around. “Shelly stays here. Or maybe you don't get a chance to leave town at all.”

  If Shelly hadn't been there in the room Port would have marked up the other side of Ramon's face. He hunched his shoulders and tried to control his voice. “Bellamy told you that I never give a damn. You start fooling with me, Nino, and you'll learn different.”

  Nobody talked as he went out.

  Port drove out of town because he felt like driving fast. He was preoccupied enough not to notice the car that was following him.

  Chapter Seventeen

  When he did, Port was out on the empty highway. Once a hay truck came driving the other way, but that didn't slow Port or the car behind. Port couldn't shake it. He felt in a bad enough temper without finding himself being chased down a highway, and when the next bend showed a roadhouse further down he stepped on the gas as if he were going past. At the last safe minute he swerved and skidded a black, ragged gutter into the gravel and watched the other car shoot by on the highway. It came to a stop when Port was out of his car and running through the door of the roadhouse.

  There was just the bartender, doubling as fry cook, and a farmer who was drinking beer with his tuna fish sandwich. Port came around the bar before anyone realized what he was doing and looked in the shelf space under the cash register. There was nothing. There was no stick, no billy, no nothing. The bartender came up, more surprised than angry when Port slapped a bill down on the counter. “Take it! Take it and move,” he said and had the cash drawer open just when the car outside made a long squeal and stopped.

  The gun was in the back of the drawer and Port skinned his knuckles yanking it out. He made the other side of the bar when the car doors slammed, and he sat down as if waiting for a drink.

  That's what it looked like to Bellamy, who pushed his two hoods in ahead of him. He grinned at Port from the door and watched one of the hoods go to sit on Port's right and the other one on Port's left. When he saw Port whip out, make a fat sound that snapped back his man's head and his man flat on the floor with the well of red blood covering the bad shape of the face. Port couldn't have watched all that because when Bellamy looked back at him, Port was sitting still, obscured by the other hood, and that one was dropping his gun to the floor.

  “Pick it up, Bellamy.”

  Bellamy didn't see the gun Port was holding till he came around and stooped to the floor. The gun followed him down and then up again.

  “Put it on the bar.”

  Bellamy did. He smiled at the bartender and then at the farmer in back. Neither of them had moved, and the farmer's sandwich was trembling in his hand.

  “I'm going to ask these good people here,” said Bellamy, “to back me up when I prefer charges. I'm sure that...”

  “They don't want to be bothered,” said Port. “The thing about bystanders, they much rather stay that way. Don't you, guys?” They didn't answer. “Especially when the fight's between hoods?”

  This time the bartender nodded, and the fanner pushed the sandwich into his mouth.

  “With hoods,” said Port, “a talking bystander gets it in the neck no matte
r which way he talks. You guys know that, don't you?”

  They both nodded.

  Bellamy shrugged and grinned to show what a good sport he was. “All right,” he said. “I just want to talk to you, Danny.”

  “I'm not interested.”

  “You got a back room, bartender?”

  The bartender nodded and went to the rear. Bellamy followed him, and after Port had told the hood with his arms up to pick up his buddy they all followed toward the back.

  They stood around while the bartender was there. Then Port said, “You ought to order some drinks, Bellamy. Make it worth his while.”

  “Bring something,” said Bellamy, who had lost his good humor. “Beer.”

  “Make mine rye. And a glass of water,” said Port.

  They waited around without talking while Port kept the gun in sight. The bartender came back with three beers and the whisky, and everybody took his off the tray. One beer was left because the man with the bloody face was still on the floor, breathing badly.

  “You drink it,” said Port. “Mr. Bellamy will pay you.”

  Bellamy did, and the bartender rushed out of the room, forgetting his tray and the extra beer.

  “Before you start laughing and cutting up,” said Port, “I want you to know what a filthy mood I'm in. I also got a date for nine tonight and have to change yet. All right?”

  “My party?” said Bellamy.

  “That's right.”

  “I don't want to see you there. I want you to lay low for a while, for your own good.”

  “What's in it for you?”

  Bellamy hadn't tried joking once, and the sight of Port's gun nettled him. It made him very direct, without the usual mannerisms. “I'm taking this town sooner or later, and I want you to switch.”

  “I knew the last part.”

  “I know how you feel about it. You told me. Now I'm telling you. There's a little thing comes out in the afternoon paper about Daniel Port, Stoker's right-hand man, defecting in the interest of civic advancement and the Reform. It means you don't show up at the party tonight to make a display of yourself with Stoker, and it means you better lie low while the Stoker bunch cools off after reading the news. That's why I'm here. I got a place all set up for you...”