1945 - Blonde's Requiem (10 page)

Halfway down the passage I stopped. I wasn
’
t sure, but I thought I saw something. I edged against the wall and looked hard into the darkness. The hairs moved on the back of my neck. There was something right ahead of me. My hand slid back and reached for my flashlight. My other hand went for my gun.

Then things happened so fast I was caught on the wrong foot. There was a quick movement, then someone brushed passed me.

My hand shot out and I caught an arm—a woman
’
s arm. God knows what happened then. I felt her twist, come up violently against me and my arm was jerked forward. A hard little hip was rammed into my side and then my feet left the ground. I sailed through the air and came down with my head against the wall.

Nothing mattered for a while after that.

I came out of a red haze, my head expanding and contracting, and I up and cursed. The building was silent and I had no idea how long I had been lying there. I fumbled for my flashlight and looked at my watch. It was three-forty. I must have been out for almost a quarter of an hour. The light hurt my eyes and I snapped it off. I didn
’
t get up, as any movement sent pain stabbing through my head. I cursed some more. If I
’
d known I was going to run into a female jiu-jitsu expert I
’
d have stayed in bed. It set me back a long way to think a girl could have tossed me around like that. I thought I knew most of the Jap stuff, but that throw was the work of an expert.

I sat up slowly, wincing as pain throbbed in my head; but after a while it got better and I stood up. I felt like I
’
d been fed through a mangle. Limping over to the head of the stairs, I listened, but I heard nothing. She was halfway home by now.

Then I walked hack to the Granville Gazette offices. The door was unlocked.

Somehow that didn
’
t surprise me. I pushed the door open and snapped on my flashlight. The outer office looked as dreary as ever. I walked over to Dixon
’
s office, listened, and then pushed the door open.

The beam of my flashlight fell on the battered deserted desk. I went over to it. The centre drawer was open. I expected that too. A quick look told me the three photographs of the missing girls Dixon had shown me only a few hours before were gone.

I stood staring down at the drawer, thinking. Of course the woman had got them. It wasn
’
t going to be so easy now. With the photographs I could have called in the Federal Agents. I could have had Chief of Police Macey eating out of my hand. I wondered if she knew that.

My head began to ache and I wanted my bed. It was nu use sticking around
‘
this joint any longer. I wondered what Wolf would say if he knew I
’
d been tossed against a wall by a woman and had let her walk off with the only evidence I had as yet found in this case. I decided I wouldn
’
t tell him.

As I turned to the door, I stopped short. Someone was sitting in the armchair by the window. All right, I jumped a foot, but who wouldn
’
t? I even dropped the flashlight, and as I stooped to pick it up I felt sweat run from my face like a squeezed sponge.

“
Who is it?
”
I said, putting my hand on my gun. My mouth was dry and I was as steady as tissue paper in a wind.

Silence hung in the room like a sodden blanket. I turned the beam of my flashlight on to the chair. Dixon looked at me with blank glassy eyes. His livid violet-coloured face was set in a grimace of terror. Blood had oozed from his mouth and his tongue protruded like a strip of black leather.

I moved forward a pace and peered at him. Around his neck was a thin cord.

It bit into his neck and the folds of flesh half hid it.

Sitting in a huddled heap in the chair, his hands clenched in his last agony, he looked very lonely and very dead.

I
came out of the bathroom to find two men in my room.

One of them lolled against the door. The other sat on my bed.

The one against the door was a big man, rather paunchy, wearing a black and white striped suit. He would be about forty years of age.

Below his eyes across the top of his cheeks and the bridge of his nose there was a wide path of freckles. His mouth was tight and mean.

The one on the bed was short, fat and chunky. He had big shoulders and no peck. His face was red and puffy and his square jaw looked like it had been tacked on as an afterthought. A flat-crowned panama hat rested on the back of his head and his pale-grey suit was well cut and fitted him in spite of his bulges.

I looked at them, said
“
Hello,
”
and propped myself up against the bathroom door. I had a feeling they didn
’
t like me and nothing I could ever do would make them change their minds.

The man on the bed eyed me without interest. He put a fat white hand inside coat and took out a cigar. He lit it with care and tossed the match on the carpet.

“
Who let you two in?
”
I said.
“
I may be living in a hotel, but my bedroom isn
’
t a lobby.
”

“
You Spewack?
”
The man on the bed pointed his cigar at me so I should know he was talking to me.

I nodded.
“
I was coming to see you this morning,
”
I said,
“
but I overslept.
”

His eyes opened a trifle.
“
Know who I am?
”

I nodded again.
“
Chief of Police Macey.
”

He looked across at the man at the door.
“
Hear that? He knows who I am.
”
A half-wit child couldn
’
t have missed the sneer in his voice.

The man at the door didn
’
t say anything. He was unpeeling paper from a package of chewing gum. He fed a strip of gum into his mouth and began to chew.

“
So you were coming to see me—what about?
”
Macey asked, thrusting his square jaw at me and bullying me with his eyes.

“
I
’
m a licensed investigator,
”
I told him.
“
I want cooperation.
”

He looked at me fixedly and rolled his cigar wetly between his lips.
“
You do? Well, I ain
’
t interested. We don
’
t like private dicks. Do we, Beyfield?
”

The man at the door agreed with him.
“
We hate
‘
em,
”
he said. His voice sounded like it came from his ankles.

I shrugged and walked over to the dressing table. As I picked up a packet of Lucky Strike and shook out a cigarette, I glanced in the mirror.

Beyfield had sunk a hand in his coat pocket. It might have been his finger or a gun that he was pointing at me through the cloth of his coat.

“
That
’
s too bad,
”
I said, lighting up.
“
But I still want cooperation.
”
I turned and leaned against the wall.

Macey picked his nose.
“
What sort of cooperation?
”
He wasn
’
t looking at me now, but down his feet. I noticed he was wearing buckskin shoes and powder-blue socks.

“
Four girls have disappeared from this town and nothing
’
s been done about it,
”
I said;
“
I
’
ve been hired to find them.
”

“
Four girls?
”
His voice was soft, but his jowls and where his neck ought to have been turned red.
“
Who told you?
”

“
Never mind who told me,
”
I said.
“
I hear things. You
’
re going to get a pain where you won
’
t like it if something isn
’
t done.
”

He touched off ash before saying:
“
Who told you about Mary Drake?
”

“
You don
’
t have to bother with that angle,
”
I returned, wandering over to the armchair and sitting down.
“
You
’
re not making a secret of it, are you? You
’
d better tell Starkey to lay off. He
’
s overplaying his hand.
”

Macey
’
s mouth pursed and he raised his eyebrows at Beyfield.
“
Hear that?
”
he said sourly.

“
Maybe we
’
d better bounce him a little,
”
Beyfield said.
“
The guy
’
s hysterical.
”

“
Don
’
t give me that stuff,
”
I said, looking from one to the other.
“
I
’
ve got enough evidence to stick the Feds on Starkey. How would you like that?
”

Macey didn
’
t seem to think much of the idea.
“
What evidence?
”

I shook my head.
“
You
’
re not acting like a policeman,
”
I said,
“
and I don
’
t trust you. Everything I
’
ve found I
’
m turning over to the Feds.
”

He blew smoke in a thick cloud at his feet, reached inside his coat and pulled a blunt-nosed automatic. He pointed it at me and said to Beyfield:
“
Take a look around.
”

Beyfield went through the room methodically. He didn
’
t miss anything and he didn
’
t make a mess. He put everything back as he found it. After ten minutes he was through.

I sat watching him.
“
Don
’
t miss the bathroom,
”
I said. He grunted and went into the bathroom.

“
Smart guy, huh?
”
Macey
’
s face was congested.
“
I could book you and make you talk.
”

“
Wolf wouldn
’
t like that,
”
I returned.
“
Be your age, Macey. You can
’
t afford to act the copper so long as you
’
re backing Starkey. I
’
m not scared of you or of any of your boys. Take me down to headquarters and see where it gets you. Wolf would raise such a squawk the Governor would hear him.
”

Beyfield came out of the bathroom. He was still chewing placidly.
“
Nothing,
”
he said, and went back to loll up against the wall.

Macey jerked his head at my suit that was lying on the chair. As he did so I remembered Mary Drake
’
s handkerchief. If they found that I
’
d be in a hell of a jam. They might even try to pin the kidnapping on me.

“
I
’
ve had enough of this,
”
I said angrily.
“
You leave my personal things alone or come back with a warrant.
”

The automatic came up slowly so the barrel pointed right between my eyes.

“
At this distance,
”
Macey said, showing his yellow teeth,
“
I
’
m a pip of a shot. If you don
’
t believe it, start something and see where it gets you.
”

Beyfield went through my suit with practised hands. I watched him with forced calm, but I didn
’
t feel so good. When he came to the pocket where I had put the handkerchief I had a hard time not to start something. I was so surprised when his hand came out empty that I nearly gave myself away.

“
Finished?
”
I said, wanting to search the pocket myself. I knew he couldn
’
t have missed the handkerchief and that meant it was no longer in my pocket. It also meant that the female jiu-jitsu had got it, and that made me mad.

Beyfield worked his jaws around the gum before saying:
“
He
’
s bluffing.
”

“
Do you think I
’
m crazy enough to keep anything in this room?
”
I said.
“
Whatever I
’
ve got is somewhere safe. And now if you
’
ve finished, suppose we get down to business. What are you going to do about Mary Drake?
”

Macey put the automatic away. He pulled at his underlip and stared at me thoughtfully. I could see he didn
’
t know what to make of me.

“
We
’
re looking for her,
”
he said at last.
“
We
’
ll find her all in good time.
”

“
Luce McArthur disappeared a month ago,
”
I said.
“
You haven
’
t found her.
”

Beyfield shifted restlessly, but Macey scowled at him.
“
A month
’
s not such a long time,
”
he said.
“
We
’
ll find
‘
em all before long.
”

“
Starkey could find them today.
”

“
What makes you think that?
”

“
It sticks out a mile,
”
I told him.
“
He
’
s kidnapped them to put Wolf and Esslinger on the spot.
”

He shook his head.
“
You
’
re wrong.
”
He chewed the butt of his cigar reflectively and added:
“
Starkey wouldn
’
t like that line from you.
”

“
He
’
s going to get it all the same,
”
I said,
“
unless you can suggest something better.
”

“
Me?
”
He looked almost hurt.
“
We
’
re working on it, but we don
’
t know nothing yet. These kids don
’
t amount to much. We
’
ll get around to
‘
em when we
’
re ready.
”

“
Dixon says they were murdered,
”
I said, watching him.
“
Mass murder doesn
’
t sound so good.
”

“
He
’
s crazy. Besides, he
’
s dead.
”

“
Dead?
”
I repeated, acting surprised.
“
What do you mean—dead?
”

He nodded his head.
“
Yeah,
”
he said.
“
Like I said—dead. I
’
ve known him years. He was crazy, but I got used to him.
”