No Orchids for Miss Blandish (17 page)

Johnny cringed away.

"I don't know nothing," he said desperately. "If you want to know anything ask the Grisson gang. They were right here. They fixed Riley..." He stopped, his raddled face turning grey.

"The Grisson gang?" Fenner stiffened to attention. "How did they fix Riley?"

But Johnny was staring past Fenner through the open door. His expression of terror chilled Fenner's blood.

Fenner looked over his shoulder. He saw a shadow fall across the open doorway: the shadow of a man with a Thompson gun in his hands.

Then everything seemed to happen at once.

Fenner dived to the floor, well clear of Johnny. He rolled towards a big iron tank that stood across a corner of the room: a tank in which Johnny used to store his horse feed when he owned a horse. As he jerked himself behind the tank with one swift movement, there came the violent and continuous sound of the Thompson firing.

A stream of lead ripped into Johnny's chest. The old man was thrown over backwards. He rolled over, twitching, then his body went limp. Seconds later, Fenner was nearly deafened as slugs hammered against the side of the tank. He crouched down, his heart thumping, his breath whistling through his clenched teeth.

For three or four seconds the slugs beat against the side of the iron tank, making a noise like a giant rivet-gun at work. Then the shooting stopped. The sudden silence was nearly as violent as the gun fire had been.

Fenner wiped his sweating face with the back of his hand. He guessed the Grisson gang had arrived. He was in a hell of a jam. He knew if he attempted to look around the side of the tank, he would have his head blown off. His one hope was that Brennan would be arriving soon, but would he arrive in time?

He flattened himself in the dust and put his ear to the wooden floor. He couldn't hear anything. He doubted if any of the gang out there would have the nerve to come in and tackle him.

Then he heard the murmur of men's voices. There was a pause, then a man shouted, "Come on out! We know you're in there. Come out with your hands in the air!"

Fenner grinned crookedly. Not likely, he told himself, if you want me, come and get me. He waited.

The Thompson started up again. The noise made Fenner wince. He could hear some of the slugs dropping into the tank, having cut their way through the outer side of the tank. The gun stopped firing.

"Come on out, punk!" a voice bawled.

He lay motionless and silent.

He heard a man say, "Give it to me! Get down flat, both of you."

Fenner stiffened. He knew what was coming. They were going to blast him out with a pineapple. He flattened down, protecting his head with his arms. The few seconds' pause of silence seemed an eternity. Then he heard something drop on the floor. The bomb went off with a devastating bang. The blast lifted him and tossed him against the side of the tank.

He rolled over onto his back, choking and gasping. For a moment, everything became very clear and sharply etched. He could see the roof of the shack above him. It was sagging. As he watched, there came the sound of splintering wood, then the roof came crashing down on top of him.

Something hit him a violent blow on the side of his head. Bright lights flashed before his eyes, then he felt himself falling into a black, bottomless pit.

The darkness was suddenly pierced by a hot, hard light. Fenner heard himself groan as he raised his hand to shield his eyes.

"You're okay," a distant voice said. "Come on; come on. Don't just lie there pitying yourself."

Fenner made the effort. He opened his eyes and shook his head. He became aware of a man bending over him. The man's face swam into focus. He recognized Brennan, and he slowly sat up.

"That's the idea." Brennan said. "You're okay. What's all the fuss about?"

Fenner nursed his head in his hands.

"Who's making a fuss?" he demanded, and then grunted as his head began to ache violently. Hands took bold of him and hoisted him to his feet. "Don't rush me!" he went on, leaning on the arm of a policeman. "Hell! My head feels as if it has been kicked by a horse."

"No horse around here," Brennan said cheerfully. "What happened?"

Fenner drew in a deep breath. He felt stronger now. Gently he ran his fingers through his hair and winced, but finding he hadn't a hole in his head, he managed to grin wryly.

"Seen anyone around?" he asked.

"Just you and what's left of Johnny," Brennan said. "Who let off the pineapple?"

"Johnny dead?"

"Sure is--deader than a mackerel."

Fenner turned and looked at the wrecked shack. He was feeling better every minute. With a slightly unsteady step, he moved out of the sun and sat down on an uprooted tree. He took out a pack of cigarettes and lit one while the three policemen and Brennan stood watching him impatiently.

Fenner wasn't to be hurried. His mind was at work. He suddenly snapped his fingers and pointed to Brennan.

"Know something?" he said. "We're going to bust the Blandish snatch! Here's what you do! Get your men to look around. They'll be looking for ground recently dug. Hurry it up!"

"What's the idea?" Brennan demanded.

"Someone's been buried here recently. Come on, get going! You want to bust this thing, don't you?"

Brennan gave orders and the three policemen went off in different directions. Brennan came to sit by Fenner's side.

"Who's been buried?" he asked. "Let's have it, dick, don't act mysterious."

"It's my bet Riley, Bailey and Old Sam are buried around here," Fenner said. "I could be wrong, but I don't think I am."

Brennan gaped at him.

"Who threw the pineapple?"

"Again I wouldn't know, but I'm willing to bet it was one of the Grisson gang."

"What would they want to do that to you for?"

"Leave it lie for a moment, Brennan," Fenner said. "One step at a time."

Brennan scowled at him, then he lit a cigarette and stared across the clearing at the ruined shack.

"You were lucky to get out of that alive," he said. "I thought you were done for."

"That makes two of us," Fenner said.

A small bird suddenly swooped out of a tree and hopped from twig to twig on a nearby bush. Fenner watched it without interest. He was sweating and his mouth was dry. He was thinking of the thirty thousand dollars Blandish had promised him if he cracked the case.

A sudden shout made both men turn sharply.

"Sounds like someone's found something," Fenner said getting stiffly to his feet.

Both men walked towards the sound of shouting, forcing their way through the thick shrubs. It didn't take them long to catch up with the other two policemen. They all entered a small clearing where the third policeman was pointing to the ground. The soil had obviously been disturbed although it had been covered with leaves and dead branches.

"This is where someone starts digging," Fenner said and sat down in the shade.

Brennan gave orders. Two of the policemen hurried off. After a while they returned with a couple of spades they had found in Johnny's outhouse. They peeled off their tunics and began to dig.

It was hot work and they were sweating before they found what they were looking for. Suddenly they stopped digging. One of the men knelt on the grass and reached into the shallow hole. Fenner got to his feet and walked over to watch. The policeman was scraping the soil away with his band. A faint smell of death came from the hole that made Fenner grimace. Suddenly he saw a mud-matted head coming to light. He stepped back.

"A dead man here, Captain," the policeman said, looking up at Brennan.

"There'll be three," Fenner said. "Let's get out of here, Brennan. Let's get back to headquarters. This is urgent now."

Brennan told the three policemen he would send out a truck and the Medical Officer. He and Fenner went down to Fenner's car.

"The writing went up on the wall when Ma Grisson took over the Paradise Club," Fenner said as he got into the car, waving Brennan to the driving seat. "We should have guessed how she financed that deal. She bought the club with the Blandish ransom money!"

Brennan paused as he was about to start the car.

"How the hell do you figure that one out?" he demanded.

"It's not so hard to figure. Ma gave out that Schulberg gave her the money. Schulberg deals in hot money. He has probably cleaned up with the ransom. Johnny told me just before he was knocked off that Grisson and his gang were with Riley at Johnny's place. Somehow Grisson must have found out that Riley had snatched the Blandish girl. He would know the only place Riley could take her would be to Johnny's. He and his gang went there, knocked Riley and the other two off and took the girl. Blandish paid the ransom to Grisson, thinking he was Riley. It adds up. As soon as the ransom was paid, Ma Grisson opens the Paradise Club. What a sweet setup for them! Riley gets the blame and they are sitting pretty."

"Where's the proof?" Brennan asked. "Even if my boys do dig up Riley and the other two, it still doesn't mean Grisson killed them. With Johnny dead, we haven't any proof."

Fenner nodded.

"That's right. We'll have to find proof. Let's not go off half-cocked on this. Know what I think?"

"What do you think, superman?" Brennan asked sarcastically. He was pushing the car hard and they were roaring down the long main road.

"I think the Blandish girl is in the Paradise Club," Fenner said. As Brennan turned to stare at him, Fenner yelled, "Look where you're driving!"

Brennan slammed on his brakes and drew up by the side of the road.

"What are you getting at?"

"Remember Doyle said there was a room upstairs in the club kept locked. It's my bet she's in there!"

"We'll soon find out," Brennan said, starting the car again.

"Will we?" Fenner said thoughtfully. "The club is like a fort. It'll take time to bust in. By the time we do get in the girl will either be dead or removed. Blandish wants her alive. If we're going to bring her out alive, we'll have to handle this with kid gloves. We've got to use our heads, Brennan."

"Okay, so we use our heads," Brennan said. "Where will that get us?"

"I don't know," Fenner said and lit a cigarette. "Let me think about it."

For the next half hour Brennan continued to drive fast while Fenner coped with his aching head and his thoughts. As Brennan slowed down before entering a small farming town, Fenner said, "Well pick up Anna Borg. She knows that Grisson and Riley met at Johnny's. She's our only witness. We don't want her knocked off. Besides being our only witness, she spends a lot of time in the club. Maybe she knows the Blandish girl is there. Maybe she doesn't know the Grisson gang wiped out Riley. If we tell her, there's a chance she might rat on them."

Brennan pulled up outside a drug store.

"I'll get things going," he said.

Fenner watched him enter a phone booth. He looked at his watch. The time was a little after six p.m. They were still three hours' driving distance from Kansas City.

He wondered if the Blandish girl really was in the club. If she was, she had been in the hands of the gang for over three months.

He grimaced.

What had happened to her during that time? He thought of Slim Grisson and he shook his head.

Brennan came out and got into the car.

"I've given orders for Anna Borg to be picked up. A couple of the boys will be watching the club."

Fenner grunted.

"Let's go," he said.

Brennan started the car and drove fast out of the town and onto the highway.

A little after five o'clock, Rocco left his apartment and walked briskly to the main street. He had rested on his vast bed for an hour after Maisey had gone.

The mysterious girl Maisey had told him about intrigued him. He had decided he would investigate. He knew Slim, Flynn and Woppy wouldn't be back until after nine. At this hour, it was unlikely Eddie Schultz would be in the club. That left only Ma Grisson and Doc Williams to worry about. He would have to be careful, but he felt pretty sure he could handle Doc if he had to. Ma scared him, but with any luck he wouldn't run into her.

It was Saturday, and the warehouse next to the club was closed. Maisey had told him there was an entrance to the club through the warehouse. This entrance he intended to find.

The building next to the warehouse was a shabby hotel. He knew the owner, a fat Greek whose name was Nick Papolos. He told Nick with a wink that he wanted to admire the view from the hotel roof. Nick stared at him, shrugged his fat shoulders and told him to help himself.

"Just don't get me into no trouble," the Greek said.

Rocco patted his arm.

"You know me, Nick," he said. "Strictly no trouble."

He took the elevator to the top floor, opened a skylight and got onto the flat roof. From there it was easy to enter the warehouse. It took him twenty minutes of careful searching before he found the hidden door leading into the club. It took him only a few seconds to pick the lock and get the door open. He stepped into a dark passage, gun in hand, his heart thumping. At the end of the passage was another locked door. This he opened without difficulty, then he found himself looking into a large, well-furnished room with a big television set facing him. Across the room was a door, and for a long moment, he stood hesitating. He moved silently to the door and listened against the panel. Hearing nothing, he opened the door and peered into the ornate bedroom.

Miss Blandish was sitting on the edge of the bed, staring with blank eyes at the floor. She had on a white cotton dress that Slim had bought her. A cigarette burned between her slim white fingers.

Rocco stared at her. He had never seen a more beautiful girl. There was something familiar about her face. He felt almost sure he had seen this girl somewhere before.

He moved silently into the room.

Miss Blandish didn't look up. She suddenly let the cigarette slip out of her fingers. It fell on the carpet and listlessly, she put her foot on it.

"Hello," Rocco said softly. "What are you doing here?"

The heavy drugged eyes stared at him.