Everybody Had A Gun by Richard Prather

if I press charges against you for assault with a deadly weapon. At your arraignment in a couple of days, no matter how you plead, you're sunk. Particularly if I press charges against you. Give a listen to this: spill to me and I won't press any charges against you for waving that rod. Also nothing you tell me goes to the cops. You'll be in better shape than you're in now."
    He squinted at me, opened his mouth, and shut it. Then he shook his head. "I dunno. What good's that do me?"
    "You get me off your neck for that play in my office. That's something. You need all the help you can get. Any load I'll take off your back is pure gravy."
    "I'll be outta here in no time." He gave me a sneer, but it was a weak one.
    I laughed in his face. "Remember, I won't spill anything you tell me. Maybe you know me, Ozzie. If I make a deal with you, I'll stick to it even if it gags me. Christ knows I don't like making any kind of deals with you. But if I make it, I'll stick to it."
    "What's the deal now?"
    "I don't press charges; I don't spill anything you tell me to the cops. That means I'm sticking my neck out if I bury any info. But that's the deal. Don't forget I know most of it anyway—Sader, you, Lobo, the rest of it."
    He sucked on his upper lip. "What you want to know?"
    "Just verification. I know that you—skip that—somebody shot at me. I know you and your pal, the tall thin one, were supposed to pick me up. But what then? Were you taking me to Sader? Or were you just supposed to lose me?"
    "No charges? You drop it?"
    "That's right. But one thing, Ozzie. That's all I promise. No charges and what you tell me doesn't go to the cops. Anything else, or anything the cops get out of you, that's not my worry. I'm a private detective, which is practically the same thing as saying a private citizen. I carry no weight at all with the cops or anybody else. You're not a popular guy with the authorities, and the Deputy D.A. may go right ahead and draw up and issue a complaint against you. He undoubtedly will. But you're a goddam fool if you don't take advantage of everything you can get. Including anything you get from me."
    He nodded, sucking on his lip. Then he said, "What the hell. Look at it like this. Suppose—" he squinted up his eyes and ridges grew in his narrow forehead. He was thinking. "Suppose you was supposed to go for a—a ride, say, with me and my friend. And you just kept on goin', sort of got disappeared."
    He paused and looked at me. I nodded, and he went on, "Then that'd make everybody happy, huh? That's all I know about it. I didn't even see Sader—just supposing this."
    "Sure. Well, supposing, then what? Maybe you go back to see Sader?"
    He sighed. "I make a phone call. I don't see Sader at all. I don't know he's got anything to do with anything."
    "Call where?"
    He sucked strenuously on his lip, then wiped the back of one small hand across his mouth. He reached over and scratched his sleeve, not looking at me. Finally he said, "Hollywood three-two-two-seven."
    'That Sader?"
    "I dunno."
    "What were you supposed to tell the other end?"
    He squirmed uneasily without answering.
    I said sharply, "You'd better loosen your lip, Ozzie. And give it to me straight."
    He sighed. "I'm supposed to say, 'I delivered the flowers.'"
    "Delivered the—that all?"
    "Yeah. So help me."
    "O. K., whose number's that?"
    "You got me. I'm finished. I don't know nothing' else. Keep your end up now."
    "Christ, you've told me nothing yet." Actually I'd got most of what I lacked on this deal from Iris, but I'd been hoping Ozzie could make the view plainer. "O.K.," I said. "Another thing. What's between Marty Sader and Collier Breed?"
    "You gotta ask?"
    I had as good an idea as most people who brush up against the rackets, but I wanted it straight. "Just clear it up, Ozzie. You've got to balance this if you still want that deal."
    "Nothin' much to it. Breed's just a bastard wants all the gravy. Somebody gets a good deal started