Down for the Count: A Toby Peters Mystery (Book Ten) by Stuart M. Kaminsky Page B

me.
    “Hold it there you bastard,” Moe shouted. I could see no advantage in stopping right there for him to take a shot at a non-moving target, so I scrambled over the edge of the roof and down the ladder. I could hear him coming through the window after me. Without jumping, I could see no way of making it to the alley before he leaned over the fire escape and leveled his gun at me. The alley wasn’t well lit, but it was bright enough for Moe to see the garbage cans and the street and me.
    About five feet down I found a window and pushed at it. It opened, and I went through head first into the darkness and scuttered down the wall to a floor. Behind me, the shadow of Moe fell across the window, and I got up. The window had been small. I’d just made it through, and there was a chance Moe wouldn’t fit, but I wasn’t taking that chance.
    A light switch would have been nice if I were willing to turn on the lights so Moe could get that clear shot at me, but darkness was better. I felt along the wall, cracking my shin on something low, brushing my already scraped face on something metal, probably a shelf. And then I found the door. I didn’t stop to look back to see how the grunting pug behind me was doing. I closed the door behind me and found myself in a narrow corridor lit by a small bulb with a metal reflector. The walls were covered with movie posters going back to Bronco Billy and the Girl . I hurried past Hearts of the World, Dick Turpin , and Underworld . About halfway down the hall Rita Hayworth said, “Wait a minute.”
    I turned, expecting to see Moe doing a comedy act that I’d just have time to applaud before he shot me, but he wasn’t there. I could hear him still struggling in the room I’d come out of. Then Rita Hayworth spoke again, and I realized that I was somewhere in the Lex Theater, next door to Reed’s. My Gal Sal was all around me. I turned again and went through the door, found myself on a narrow metal stairway, and went down in darkness to another door. Beyond this door, Rita Hayworth’s voice called to me. I stepped in and found myself in the theater looking up at Victor Mature’s teeth. His forehead wrinkled at me, and I moved up the aisle toward the exit. There were a few people in the theater who paid no attention, but a spindly guy with a bow tie stepped in front of me when I hit the lobby.
    “I don’t remember your purchasing a ticket,” he said.
    “I came in with the fat lady,” I answered. “My aunt. I was just getting up to get some popcorn when I slipped on something wet on the floor. Fell down and scraped my face. Look at this.” I pointed to my bruised cheek. “I may need stitches,” I said. “I may sue you.”
    “It’s not our fault if a customer spills—” he began, now on the defensive.
    “I don’t care,” I said. “I don’t want to sue you. I just want to get to a doctor. But since you bring it up, there is a big man in there, a tough-looking ape who went into a door near the stage. He didn’t look like anyone I’ve seen working here.”
    “Door near the—” he began.
    “Can’t miss him,” I said, moving away through the lobby, past the candy counter toward the exit. I stopped outside the theater on the street, standing in the sputtering light of the remaining bulbs in the Lex’s sign. Larry and Curly weren’t waiting outside of Reed’s. I turned left, walking fast, looked back over my shoulder, and crossed the street at the corner. Then I worked my way back to hide in a doorway and watch the front of Reed’s. From the darkness of the doorway, I saw Moe come out of the Lex, shaking off the spindly guy with the bow tie. Moe looked up and down the street, didn’t see what he was looking for, yelled “Shit,” and went through the door to Reed’s. I made my way fast to a Rexall’s on the corner and found the pay phone and the Los Angeles book. Reed’s was listed.
    I dropped my nickel and dialed the number. It rang six times before Parkman